The next day was another rare day of good weather.

After breakfast, the group broke camp, with several yaks accompanying them. However, except for Meng Qianzi, whose leg injury hadn’t fully healed and who rode the entire journey, others weren’t so keen on riding yaks—swaying on a yak’s back could hardly be described as comfortable.

So most people alternated between riding for a while and walking for a while.

When Jiang Lian walked, he mostly stayed beside Meng Qianzi, keeping her company with conversation. Several times, he became slightly distracted, his pace slowing, and fell behind.

On one such occasion, he happened to look up and found Meng Jinsong following behind him.

Jiang Lian slowed his steps to wait for him. Meng Jinsong saw him too and instinctively wanted to avoid him, but with so few people ahead and behind, it was difficult to pretend he hadn’t noticed. He could only smile politely at Jiang Lian.

The two exchanged routine but courteous small talk about the weather, equipment, the yaks’ load-bearing capacity, and preparations for Old Lady Duan’s funeral in Xining.

Finally, with nothing left to discuss, Jiang Lian awkwardly broached the main topic: “Later, could I trouble you with something?”

Meng Jinsong was somewhat surprised: “Go ahead.”

Jiang Lian looked toward Meng Qianzi riding in the distance: “On this trip, we agreed with Qianzi that after entering the cave, she would only go as far as the first door. Beyond that, she won’t go down; only Shen Gun and I will.”

In the original plan, Meng Qianzi wasn’t supposed to enter the intestine entrance at all.

When they reconsidered in the morning, they realized there was a major problem.

To descend to the stone platform, there was a necessary procedure called “Mountain Ghost Knocking at the Door.”

Previously, when Jiang Lian and Shen Gun reached the stone platform, they had accidentally entered the ice blood tube and slid down. Later, guided by Jiang Qiaoqiao, they climbed ropes and ascended via ice corpses, completely bypassing this procedure. Therefore, they had no particular impression of “Mountain Ghost Knocking at the Door.” They only knew they needed to descend very deep, so they assumed that as long as they had a rope long enough, lowering themselves down would work.

But Meng Qianzi thought of something: stone insects roamed throughout the mountain cavity. True, they didn’t attack Shen Gun, but neither of them could place “mountain beast repellents” along the way. What if, after they lowered themselves down, the insects bit through the rope from above?

This was problematic. The ice blood tube was no longer an option; it was chaotically arranged like a spider web. Sliding down again wouldn’t follow the previous path, and besides, even with much more courage, they wouldn’t dare slide again.

So, after much consideration, whether choosing to use a rope or descend the nine steps, they couldn’t do without Meng Qianzi. Shen Gun might have a tiny bit of mountain ghost blood in him, but expecting him to learn and perform such advanced symbol techniques was difficult.

Therefore, they permitted Meng Qianzi. She could enter the mountain’s intestine and help with “Mountain Ghost Knocking at the Door,” but she would be attached to another rope. This way, after the rope bridge dropped sharply, she could hang on the mountain wall and then retreat into the mountain’s intestine. Once Shen Gun finished below, they would fire a signal flare from below—ordinary signal flares reached heights of about two to three hundred meters, but the signal guns used by mountain ghosts were more powerful and brighter, so those above should be able to see it.

At that point, she could arrange for them to be lowered down by rope, or once the rope ladder was reset, she could lead people down the nine steps. By then, the phoenix feather and dragon bone would have been completely burned, and the celestial ladder would be closed. Returning to the stone platform should pose no risk. After reuniting, they could all exit through the secret passage by “seeking the handle to the left of the door.”

Meng Jinsong had heard about the entire procedure. He nodded: “I understand we’ll stay with Qianzi in the mountain intestine, waiting for your signal. Is there a problem?”

Jiang Lian carefully considered how to phrase it. After much thought, he decided approaching it through the mantis man would be easier: “Do you remember in the Three Rivers Source incident investigation materials, there was a line where the mantis man cursed Qianzi?”

Meng Jinsong nodded. Of course, he remembered; he had also read those investigation materials.

“The celestial ladder is right at the stone platform where Shen Gun and I are going. Now, certain signs suggest that the mantis man’s words weren’t unfounded. So we’re asking Qianzi to stay as far away from that place as possible, until Shen Gun and I confirm there’s no problem.”

Meng Jinsong understood: “You’re worried she might not resist going down, and you want me to stop her at the appropriate time?”

That was the idea.

Meng Jinsong pondered for a moment: “It depends on the actual situation. Qianzi knows it’s a matter of life and death, so she shouldn’t act rashly. But if you and Shen Gun are in mortal danger down there, I doubt I could stop her even if I tried.”

An unusual feeling rose in Jiang Lian’s heart.

They were just burning a box; there shouldn’t… be any danger, right?

By the time they reached the intestinal entrance, it was already dusk.

At the entrance, there were piles of rocks, both large and small. These had been placed by the mountain ghosts on their last departure to prevent people and animals from accidentally entering. Meng Jinsong arranged for several mountain dwellers to move the rocks, and the group entered in single file, guided by flashlights and searchlights.

Inside the intestinal passage, it was pitch black, but since this was their second entry into the mountain intestine, everyone’s mood was less tense. Two mountain dwellers even quietly teased the one carrying the box, saying he was surrounded by a seven-colored halo, as if he had a rainbow on his back.

They walked about two hundred meters deeper, where the path ended. One step further was space—a cliff. Several bright flashlight beams shot toward the somewhat lower area ahead: there was what Ni Qiuhui had described as the mountain’s core, formed by nine mountain intestines intertwining and knotting together, eerie, twisted, wrapped, and enormous.

Shen Gun took a deep breath and signaled the mountain dweller carrying the box to put down his pack.

After taking out the box, he held it with both hands and stepped forward to the edge of the break.

Seeing Shen Gun standing there shakily, Meng Qianzi could barely breathe. Just as she was about to instruct someone to grab Shen Gun’s clothes to prevent him from falling, she suddenly heard a dull sound coming from deep within the mountain core, like rolling thunder crushing rocks.

Then, the mountain core began to slowly undulate. One could see each intestine, like a living soft body, slowly extending, stretching, and twisting in mid-air. For a moment, Meng Qianzi even felt that these weren’t mountain intestines at all, but rather a giant beast—a stone giant beast.

No one spoke. Among so many people, it seemed as if everyone was holding their breath, watching as the intestines extended in all directions to connect with the breaks.

Someone grabbed her hand from the side. Meng Qianzi smiled. Without turning her head, she knew it was Jiang Lian. His hand was dry and warm. Due to his injuries, his palm was somewhat rough, but she enjoyed rubbing her smooth back of her hand against his palm.

Jiang Lian said softly: “Such a grand spectacle is also something you wouldn’t see in eight lifetimes. One should be content with what they have and not be greedy for more.”

Again with his preaching. Meng Qianzi was irritated and tried to pull her hand away, but Jiang Lian held it firmly. After trying several times without success, she let him continue holding it.

After the mountain’s intestines connected, the group continued forward.

This path was different from their previous entry, but since there was still plenty of time before the dawn-dusk division when “the door can be seen from within the door,” they had ample time to explore and find their way. Meng Qianzi saw writings left by light-sensitive rock pens more than once, including marks left by Meng Jinsong and clumsy stick figures drawn by Shi Xiaohai.

After winding around, approximately at midnight, they finally found the first door where Old Lady Duan had carved characters.

At this point, restoring physical strength was most important. Except for those on guard duty, everyone else rested, waiting for daybreak.

Although there was no way to tell time inside the mountain intestine, Meng Qianzi felt as if she could hear the ticking of seconds passing. Suddenly, she had many things to tell Jiang Lian, even things she had told him before.

She nestled against Jiang Lian’s side, whispering.

“Be careful, alright? I keep feeling that those ‘things’ in the water spirit won’t just sit by and wait for their doom.”

Jiang Lian smiled reassuringly: “Haven’t we discussed this? They probably don’t have any more tricks up their sleeve.”

“That’s different,” Meng Qianzi said worriedly. “Last time, we did come in, but we didn’t use the mountain gall. It’s like ‘when the map is complete, the dagger appears’—last time, the map wasn’t complete, so it didn’t need to fight for its life. This time, we’re facing the real challenge.”

Jiang Lian made an affirmative sound and promised her: “I’ll be careful, extremely careful.”

This promise didn’t help; she hadn’t realized before how many worries she had.

“They say that based on the ratio, there should be five or six monsters transformed from water ghosts. Is it five or six exactly? We dealt with five, but what if there’s a sixth one?”

“If something feels wrong, you must trust your instincts. Reason is for doing things, but intuition is for saving lives, especially in dangerous places. You must trust your feelings. If you can’t do it, then so be it. Retreat when necessary. Where there’s life, there’s hope…”

Jiang Lian looked at her with a smile: “Qianzi, when you get old, you’ll definitely be a nagging little old lady. Your sons and grandsons will be so annoyed they’ll cover their ears, and only your husband will enjoy listening to you talk.”

He was mocking her! Meng Qianzi was irritated and wanted to retort, glare at him, or scold him, but in the end, she just lowered her head and curled up in his embrace, clutching the corner of Jiang Lian’s clothes tightly, as if holding that small piece of fabric could keep him firmly in her grasp.

Holding onto that corner, she fell asleep.

She had a dream, but there was nothing in it—just vast emptiness, like a place swept clean by a great wind, leaving thousands of miles of desolation. One could only walk through it, measuring it step by step. To walk it was to walk a lifetime; to measure it was to measure a life.

Later, she was startled awake. Upon waking, she heard more than one voice shouting: “The door, that door, it’s appeared.”

The door had appeared; it was time to act.

Meng Qianzi quickly got to her feet.

She saw Shen Gun securing a flamethrower around his waist, then picking up the backpack containing the box. The box stretched the backpack into a rectangular shape, making it look less like a bag and more like a soft shell for the box.

Meng Qianzi suddenly remembered something: “Shen Gun, when you first saw the box, you said you felt oppressed, couldn’t breathe, and it was too heavy. Was that because you sensed it would cause your abdomen to rot?”

Shen Gun didn’t react immediately: “Huh?”

Meng Qianzi didn’t repeat her question. She had already turned around to help Jiang Lian secure his equipment.

Shen Gun was stunned for quite a while.

Indeed, when he first approached the box, he had felt so uncomfortable that he had to move far away to sit. Was it because of this?

It seemed so, but also not quite: when he saw his abdomen beginning to rot, his mood had been quite calm. He had only panicked briefly, feeling neither heaviness nor oppression.

It was difficult to explain; something felt strange.

Everything went according to plan. Jiang Lian and Shen Gun successfully descended the nine steps.

Though successful, they certainly didn’t avoid suffering. Jiang Lian rolled down the rope bridge and onto the stone platform, his vision blurring and his head throbbing: did the Chi You faction enjoy free-fall rides? Couldn’t they have built a staircase from the mountain to the stone platform?

He heard Shen Gun’s groaning nearby. Jiang Lian opened his eyes, scanning everything on the stone platform through heavy double vision and blur: nothing had changed. It was still the same—the ice dragon carved almost to ruin, the bronze chains coiled in a heap, and the dragon bones scattered on the ground.

It was said that dragons are extremely proud and would never leave their corpses in the wilderness. Dragon bones placed on the ground would sink into stone when meeting stone, or sink into earth when meeting earth, all within the time it takes for an incense stick to burn.

Fortunately, this wasn’t wilderness. This was the center of the mountain, the heart of Kunlun, with a covering above and a platform below. It wasn’t an exaggeration to call it a well-constructed dragon tomb.

After catching his breath, Jiang Lian sat up and gathered the scattered dragon bones. Shen Gun, beside him, also sat up. He first took out the box, then unwrapped the bubble wrap protecting the phoenix feather. The phoenix feather, worthy of being a divine bird’s plume, had been compressed before. Once unwrapped, each feather floated in mid-air, quickly achieving dynamic balance, gently rotating with a light golden halo around its environmental glow.

The last thing he took out was the mountain gall.

Jiang Lian had expected that once the mountain gall appeared, the water spirit would perish, causing a great commotion like when they dealt with the cave spirit in western Hunan. On second thought, that commotion had occurred because of Bai Shuixiao. If it had been just the cave spirit, the process of the mountain gall neutralizing the water spirit should be… instantaneous and silent?

He couldn’t help asking: “Is this… all it takes?”

Shen Gun looked at him with surprise: “Little Lian Lian, are you stupid? We’re still far from the Shifting Cave—last time, the cave spirit sensed the mountain gall because it was close. It’s like a gun; you need to be within range to shoot.”

How to get closer? Jiang Lian looked at the hole on the stone platform: “Tie it to a rope and send it down, or just throw it down?”

Shen Gun shook his head: “Neither.”

He walked to the edge of the hole, crouched down, and slowly turned over the hand holding the mountain gall.

Jiang Lian wanted to say: Isn’t that still throwing it down…

Before he could speak, he realized it wasn’t: the mountain gall seemed to have adhesive properties, firmly sticking to Shen Gun’s palm. But from the gall itself, a drop gradually hung down, suspended in a moist, translucent white line that continuously extended downward. It was just that one thread, unbroken like a needle exploring directly into the endless depths below.

Gradually, the mountain gall in Shen Gun’s palm grew smaller.

Jiang Lian watched with his heart pounding, sometimes looking at the descending thread of the mountain gall that his gaze could no longer follow, sometimes at Shen Gun’s overturned palm, gauging how much of the mountain gall remained…

After an unknown amount of time, when he looked down again, he suddenly felt as if an invisible wave had passed by. His brain seemed to be impacted, abruptly jolting. Following this, from the deep below, a faint glow began rising at an extremely fast speed.

What was that? The mountain gall? Had it been bounced back?

It didn’t seem like it. Jiang Lian was puzzled. Focusing his gaze, he saw the glow getting closer and closer, and the sense of foreboding in his heart grew deeper.

The next moment, the glow reflected in his eyes. Jiang Lian’s mind exploded. He pushed Shen Gun away and shouted: “Breathing soil!”

Shen Gun fell into a sitting position. When he hurriedly looked up, he only saw a glowing column of soil instantly passing through the hole, like a tree growing without end, moving at incredible speed, straight upward.

Jiang Lian’s lips were dry. When he spoke, his voice didn’t even sound like his own.

He asked Shen Gun: “Why is it… going upward?”

After Meng Qianzi knocked at the door and sent off Jiang Lian and Shen Gun, she was pulled back by Meng Jinsong and the mountain dwellers using pre-set ropes, returning to the outside of that door.

She and Meng Jinsong’s group waited in the mountain’s intestine, chatting, checking equipment, and occasionally getting up to move around. Two bored mountain dwellers drew a grid nearby and used stones as chess pieces, engaging in a fierce battle right there.

Meng Qianzi had no interest in watching the chess game and was somewhat distracted while talking with Meng Jinsong. She was mentally counting time, starting over from zero when she lost count.

Just then, a mountain dweller near the door suddenly exclaimed and pointed downward: “There’s light down there, but it doesn’t look like a signal flare. What is it?”

Light, but not a signal flare—could it be… something had gone wrong?

Meng Qianzi quickly got up, not even using her cane, and rushed to the side of the door with a somewhat awkward gait.

There was indeed light—a faint glow appearing from below, rising extremely fast. Initially just a single thread, as it approached, it suddenly split into multiple strands, perhaps eight or nine, like demonic vines or ghostly tendrils, like long claws wrapped in silk. The tip of one strand was heading directly toward the inside of this door.

Meng Qianzi heard her voice. Thanks to her aunt’s teachings and special training, her voice remained calm even at a time like this.

She said, “Get the flamethrowers. The breathing soil is coming up.”