A complete logical chain was formed in Meng Qianzi’s mind.

Yama’s clothes, Yama had been here, Yama was headed to the Kunlun Ladder…

Could it be that this place, the Nine Winding Intestines, was the location of the Kunlun Ladder?

Once this thought emerged, it could not be erased: The map that Jiang Lian had drawn, everyone said it didn’t resemble the mountain’s shape and features at all, but Shen Gun believed the map needed to be viewed with special technique. Later, when she viewed the map upside down, although it still didn’t match, certain lines seemed strangely familiar…

What if, even though they hadn’t yet figured out the correct way to read the map, they had actually, truly arrived at their destination?

Meng Qianzi didn’t lower her gun, but raised the barrel slightly, gesturing toward the flat silver flask in Shi Xiaohai’s hand: “What’s that?”

“A small… bottle, also found it.”

“Give it to me.”

Seeing Shi Xiaohai about to approach, Meng Qianzi changed her mind: “Don’t move, throw it over!”

Shi Xiaohai grumbled but threw the silver flask over.

Meng Qianzi caught it with one hand.

The silver flask was extremely exquisite, quite elegant, truly a work of art. The engraved patterns on its surface would not be out of place even today—Meng Qianzi already had a good idea who this flask belonged to.

Sure enough, when she turned it over, there was a small indented character “Xi” on the edge of the bottom.

It belonged to Grandma Duan.

When she shook it, the liquor inside seemed to be gone, empty.

Meng Qianzi had heard from Gao Jinghong that when Duan Wenxi was young and patrolled the mountains, she had the style of a female knight-errant, using tools made by Chinese craftsmen. As she grew older, she became nostalgic for her mannerisms from her time studying in England—drinking morning tea, watching operas, eating Western food—and the items she carried grew more Western, refined, and elegant.

“Where did you find these things?”

Shi Xiaohai looked bewildered, reaching up to scratch his head, though in reality he only scratched the thick fur hat: “I was running with Fourth Aunt… Auntie said to split up, so I split up. I remember there were people around me, then they were gone!”

Meng Qianzi nodded: This was normal. When people flee for their lives in panic, some going left and others right, they easily become separated.

“Later I fell down a hole, just dropped down, didn’t die…”

How fortunate—the depth of these “intestinal ruptures” was purely a matter of luck: some were pitch black with no visible bottom, falling would mean being smashed to pieces; others were only about two meters deep, falling just meant dropping to the next level.

“So I walked, leaving marks along the way. Found the robe, hat, and bottle on the road, so I picked them up. Later, I climbed back up, walking along when I heard a ‘boom,’ so I hid there…”

He pointed toward the corner where he had been huddling.

The logic made sense. The Nine Winding Intestines were so convoluted that Shi Xiaohai and Meng Jinsong hadn’t taken the same path, but after winding around, he had ended up ahead of Meng Jinsong’s group.

“Did you encounter any stone insects chasing you along the way?”

Stone insects? Shi Xiaohai didn’t understand and scratched his hat again: “Met stones, stones didn’t chase me.”

Fine, fools have their luck. The Nine Winding Intestines weren’t necessarily infested with insects everywhere. It seemed Shi Xiaohai’s escape route had been relatively stable.

Meng Qianzi silently prayed that other isolated mountain household members would have the same good fortune.

Shi Xiaohai suddenly remembered something: “Oh, oh, also met sheep!”

He vividly described: “Hanging on the wall, all dried up.”

Meng Qianzi had a headache. It was truly difficult to communicate with someone who spoke so incoherently.

She pondered for a moment: “Can you remember where you found these things? Take me there, and show me the sheep, whatever that is.”

Shi Xiaohai’s face twisted into a bitter gourd: “I don’t know, I’ve been going in circles, dizzy.”

“It’s alright, take me as far as you remember. Besides, didn’t you leave marks?”

Shi Xiaohai led Meng Qianzi with a worried expression.

He truly couldn’t remember. He kept scratching his head, clearly confused, sometimes encountering junctions where he had to look left and right to confirm the shape and outline.

Fortunately, he hadn’t lied. Along the way, they indeed found his messy marks, helping the two determine direction. These marks were sometimes random scribbles, sometimes stick figures, and sometimes even self-talking phrases like “I am here.”

Meng Qianzi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but these marks suddenly gave her a realization: Why had she and Seventh Mother been so stubborn about wrapping sticky notes around a rope, such a clumsy method? The rope could be cut at any moment.

Why hadn’t she left messages on the cave walls? This way, when mountain household members came in, they could easily see the warnings, practical and direct.

Said and done. While Shi Xiaohai was racking his brains trying to find the way, she took out a luminescent rock pencil and wrote on the nearest wall: Beware of living stones, they devour people, “repel mountain beasts” works.

Below, she left a small directional arrow, with the note “1+shen.” Gao Jinghong hadn’t come, so “1” represented herself, and the character “shen” with two protrusions represented two people.

By the time she finished writing, Shi Xiaohai had grown impatient, pointing to a branch tunnel: “This, this!”

Meng Qianzi acknowledged with a sound and walked over, leaning on her hiking staff.

As the flashlight beam gradually moved away, without the light, the luminescent characters appeared especially bright.

After a while, strange crackling sounds came from the darkness.

Countless stone insects, like a tide, washed over and instantly covered those lines of text.

After walking some distance, the two descended to a lower level, as Shi Xiaohai was certain that both the things he had found and the sheep hanging on the wall were “downstairs.”

He guessed correctly. After going down and walking for a short while, the sheep appeared.

How to describe it? It looked like a sheep that had been flattened, dried, and hung on the cave wall like a decorative painting. However, the sheep’s horns remained three-dimensional, protruding awkwardly.

It was too cold here. If Yama’s clothes and hat could be preserved intact, sheep carcasses certainly wouldn’t rot—the wool was still distinct, making it impossible to determine the time of death.

Shi Xiaohai had successfully led the way and was now strutting proudly: “See, see, I told you, there’s a sheep.”

Meng Qianzi found the sheep extremely bizarre and didn’t dare approach: “When you saw it, did you get close?”

“Yes, got close, nothing happened.”

Before Meng Qianzi could react, Shi Xiaohai had already stepped forward, tilting his head to pose next to the withered, dried sheep head, as if posing for a photo: “Nothing happened.”

Meng Qianzi angrily said, “Step away! Why stand so close?”

Just moments ago, something sinister had tried to use clothes as cover to attack the Seventh Mother. Once bitten, twice shy—now, Meng Qianzi didn’t trust the appearance of anything.

Shi Xiaohai was startled and quickly stepped back.

Meng Qianzi cautiously approached, but still kept several steps away, then tilted her body to look at where the sheep’s body connected to the cave wall.

How exactly was this sheep “hung” up? Surely they hadn’t hammered a nail into the wall like hanging artwork at home?

As expected, there was indeed something suspicious behind the sheep. Meng Qianzi saw countless curled… roots? In the narrow space between the sheep’s body and the cave wall.

They looked like thin stems, blackish-brown, densely packed like tangled hair, connecting the two.

Anything abnormal must be suspicious. Meng Qianzi felt her scalp tingle and instinctively sensed these were not good things. She reflexively reached for the small flamethrower hanging at her waist.

Just then, Shi Xiaohai suddenly screamed: “Ghost!”

After being ordered to step away by Meng Qianzi, he had grown bored and shone his flashlight deeper into the passage. During his earlier search, he had only seen this sheep carcass but had taken another route without going further in.

Now, shining his light, he discovered that there wasn’t just one sheep carcass. This passage was like a gallery of hanging sheep carcasses. Every few meters, another one hung on the cave wall, sometimes on the left, sometimes on the right. Some sheep carcasses were intact, some were half-drooping, and some had no carcass at all—only a lonely sheep head with horns rolled at the base of the wall.

As Shi Xiaohai was looking curiously, a human figure suddenly emerged from a branch tunnel about a dozen meters away. Caught off guard and unable to see clearly, he blurted out “Ghost!”

From that direction came an excited voice: “Shi Xiaohai? Miss Meng?”

Meng Qianzi looked over.

She recognized this person—He Shengzhi, who had been acting as Shi Xiaohai’s babysitter all along.

Initially, He Shengzhi had been running with Meng Jinsong. He remembered the instruction to “split up” and ducked into different branches at junctions. The consequence was that after running for a while, he suddenly realized there was only himself and his shadow in the intestinal passage.

This frightened him badly. The mountain’s intestines were deathly silent, confined and oppressive, nearly triggering his claustrophobia. Yet he dared not call out loudly, fearing he might attract snow wild men.

After wandering up and down these mountain intestines like a headless fly for a long time, he suddenly noticed a faint flashlight beam in this direction. Fearing it might be bait, he approached silently until he faintly heard murmuring voices. Only then did he confirm they were his people. Overjoyed, he strode out quickly.

Meng Qianzi was greatly relieved to see a familiar face. Mountain household members getting separated in the mountain intestines was certainly not good, but from another perspective, the frequent intersections and connections of these passages greatly increased the chances of “chance encounters.” Meeting in such a place was nothing short of finding an old friend in a foreign land.

He Shengzhi quickened his pace toward them, too excited to pay attention to his surroundings.

Meng Qianzi now noticed the sheep carcasses hanging along the way and hurriedly warned him: “Be careful, don’t get close to—”

He Shengzhi was walking down the center of the passage, not particularly close to either side. But before Meng Qianzi could finish speaking, he suddenly stopped.

He just stood there, no longer moving forward. His expression looked strange, somewhat rigid. Then he convulsed once and stepped backward, approaching the cave wall on his right.

There was no sheep carcass on that section, just a sheep’s head lying tilted on the ground, its eyes hollow.

Meng Qianzi knew something was wrong. At a time like this, she couldn’t worry about protecting her leg and walking slowly. With a flamethrower in hand, she rushed over in a few quick strides.

He Shengzhi wasn’t standing flush against the wall. He was about a span away, his face drained of color. His eyeballs were still moving, and the muscles in his face seemed somewhat out of control, moving eerily. His lips were slightly parting and closing, as if trying to tell her something.

Meng Qianzi had no time for words. She first looked behind him, and what she saw made her skin crawl.

She saw thousands upon thousands of stems extending from within the cave wall, like extremely thin infusion tubes, all pierced into He Shengzhi’s back. These stems, which should have been blackish-brown, now pulsed with a reddish color, like densely arranged blood-sucking tapeworms. He Shengzhi’s body trembled slightly under the suction of these unknown things.

Meng Qianzi raised her flamethrower, about to press the switch, when those things seemed to sense it. They suddenly contracted, like rubber bands stretched long then snapping back, pulling He Shengzhi’s body flush against the cave wall and completely shielding themselves.

Meng Qianzi had no time to think. She raised her foot and kicked toward He Shengzhi. She intended to kick his body away from the wall, then burn these stems with fire. But these stems could not only retract but also extend, like sticky glue that could be pulled into strings. He Shengzhi’s body only leaned outward slightly before showing signs of being pulled back.

Time was of the essence. The previously stunned Shi Xiaohai finally reacted. He had been cared for by He Shengzhi these past days and had grown close to him, truly seeing him as a nanny. Seeing him suffer, blood rushed to Shi Xiaohai’s brain. With a great shout, he charged forward, grabbed He Shengzhi’s body, adding his weight of over 130 jin, and desperately rolled sideways to the ground.

The weight of two grown men plus momentum was enough to accomplish the task. Meng Qianzi saw countless stem heads pull out of He Shengzhi’s body. But not all of them—about twenty stems were stretched to over a meter long but remained firmly embedded in He Shengzhi’s back.

Shi Xiaohai’s action wasn’t particularly wise. A small mistake could have cost him his life. But at a time like this, there was no point in criticizing him. With quick reflexes, Meng Qianzi pressed the flamethrower’s switch.

The scorching fire oil with its heavy smoke and oil smell adhered to that section of the stone wall, burning fiercely. Stray droplets of burning oil continued to fall. Meng Qianzi rushed to He Shengzhi’s side, simultaneously removing her mountain ghost basket.

Her mind was in chaos: The mountain ghost basket, did it contain reviving ginseng slices or oral medication? Which compartment were they in?

He Shengzhi wasn’t dead yet. His eyes watched her, his lips still weakly parting and closing. From his expression, Meng Qianzi knew recovery might be impossible, but she still frantically searched through her bag. At the same time, she bent down, bringing her ear close to his lips: “If you have something to say, tell me. I’ll make sure it’s done.”

She heard He Shengzhi say: “I… next… next month, mar… marr…”

Meng Qianzi couldn’t hear what came next because Shi Xiaohai suddenly screamed in terror beside her. Looking up, she saw countless charred stems, like an overwhelming mass of tangled threads, sweeping toward them.

She shuddered with fear: These things weren’t even afraid of the flamethrower?

There was no time to investigate why. She pushed Shi Xiaohai away, rolled to the side, and reached for He Shengzhi again.

She had grabbed He Shengzhi’s collar but lost her grip—He Shengzhi, like a rapidly inflating doll, suddenly sprang up and reattached to the cave wall. Then his entire body shook violently, his facial skin gradually collapsed inward, and finally, his head dropped to one side, motionless.

He became a freshly made human wall-hanging.

Meng Qianzi stared in shock. Shi Xiaohai first sniffled, then began to cry. He sobbed while wiping his eyes.

After a while, Meng Qianzi turned on her flashlight and looked around. There should have been six sheep carcasses; the other five were still hanging. Only this one section had lost its carcass, now replaced by a human.

She asked Shi Xiaohai: “Those robes and hats, did you find them nearby?”

Shi Xiaohai nodded while wiping his tears.

Meng Qianzi made a sound of acknowledgment and murmured: “These sheep were probably driven in here by Yama.”

Shi Xiaohai didn’t know who Yama was and didn’t understand. He just continued to sniffle and wipe his tears. Seeing Meng Qianzi suddenly rise and walk deeper into the passage, he feared being left behind and quickly stood up to follow.

Meng Qianzi gripped her flashlight tightly.

If her guess was correct, these sheep had been driven in by Yama. In the mountain mirage, Yama’s group hadn’t been herding sheep, but this was a pastoral area where cattle and sheep weren’t uncommon. He might have encountered them on the road, bought them, or traded his yak for them.

Yama was different from them. Whether he was going to Phoenix Eye or coming to the Kunlun Ladder, he held the Kuang family’s passage map in his hands. This meant he might have long known about this passage that devoured humans and livestock, requiring sacrifices to ensure his safe passage.

The other sheep carcasses hadn’t fallen yet, perhaps because it wasn’t time for another feeding. But the section where one had fallen was ready to feed again.

Meng Qianzi felt somewhat dazed: If He Shengzhi hadn’t appeared, would she or Shi Xiaohai have been the sacrifice?

He Shengzhi had come toward them so joyfully, probably thinking he had finally found companions and had hope of leaving the mountain. If only he had known that this step he took…

Why did Yama need to pass through here? What was at the end of this passage?

She stopped walking.

The path ended here, cut off abruptly. The cross-section resembled a small door, but leaning out revealed a massive bottomless pit.

On the cave wall at the edge of the “doorframe,” someone had carved a line of characters with a dagger.

Mountain ghost knocks at the door.

Signed: Duan Wenxi.