Drip, drip.
What was that smell?
Gu Xianwang tilted her head to peer up at the canopy overhead. The faint light filtering through had grown even dimmer. Sara, crouched to their left up above, suddenly twitched her nose and exclaimed in shock, “Where the hell is that gasoline smell coming from?”
Gu Xianwang froze for a moment, then carefully leaped across a few gaps. Squinting from the shadowed vantage point, she spotted a thin, barely visible stream of liquid trickling down along the grooves in the stone branches.
A shiver ran through her. Suddenly, Long Li seized her wrist, her gaze sharper than Gu Xianwang had ever seen. “Quick—climb up!”
Gu Xianwang frowned. “But the gasoline’s pouring down from the rock crevices above. Heading up would just mean—”
She cut herself off mid-sentence as realization dawned. She whipped her head around to stare at the bronze kettle resting on Yuzi’s lap. Marrow Bees didn’t attack those who bore the God Eye. If this altar was a sacred site for the Yelang villagers, then anyone allowed inside had to possess one.
Which meant the true spark waiting to ignite down here wasn’t some random object—it was them!
Fleeing downward offered no escape. Their only shot was to climb to the top of the canopy before the Marrow Bees swarmed into the stone tree.
The moment she pieced it together, Sara let out a startled curse. Whistling winds sliced through the air from both sides, two arrow shrieks cutting especially sharp. Gu Xianwang glanced over just in time to see Chak wrenched free of his bindings. His upper arm hooked the dangling rope in a flash, and the black jar strapped to his chest dropped straight down. He clamped it between his feet, then twisted his powerful waist and hurled it upward. Using the momentum to swing, he angled the rope just enough to deflect the crossbow bolt’s tip. By the time he released his grip, he was already vaulting onto the neighboring platform.
The two Yelang archers stationed there never saw it coming—someone trussed up like bait pulling off a counterattack. Before they could react, Chak’s iron fists hammered them to the ground like mallets.
He shot a quick glance at the Marrow Beehive he’d flung earlier. Damn thing had landed right on the platform where he’d been tied. The four or five Yelang people there froze in place, not daring to twitch for fear of agitating the bronze kettle, which was already humming with vibration.
“Damn it,” Chak muttered under his breath. He bent down and hauled Old Dog up onto the platform. Old Dog still looked dazed, so Chak slapped his cheek hard. “Hey, wake up! Your head’s about to get lopped off.”
Old Dog blinked slowly. “I ain’t crazy. I can see fine.”
He was just getting on in years—recovery took longer.
Chak snorted in derision. “Like hell.” He fished a folding knife from Old Dog’s shoe lining, flicked the blade out with his thumb, and sliced through the ropes binding him.
“This thing?” Old Dog cradled the bronze kettle, glancing warily around. His expression was that of a man holding a primed bomb—one with no safe weak point, fuse already lit.
Chak craned his neck for a look downward. Everything below the cave’s midpoint was lost in inky blackness, thick as drifting volcanic ash—impossible to see through. Better to roll the dice than let that thing blow up right next to them. “Chuck it straight down!”
…
Two bamboo arrows struck the bronze kettle at the same time. After the sharp clinks, Yuzi gently set it down.
She pressed her palm against it, feeling the tremors within, a hint of affection in her eyes. Then she wedged the arrowhead under the pin and pried it open. In a soft voice, she said, “Go on. You’re free now.”
“No… we’re all free.”
A frantic buzz of wings filled the air as dozens of crimson bee silhouettes lifted from her embrace. Sara stared, numb with disbelief. “Are you fucking deranged? If you wanna die, find some deserted corner and off yourself quietly. Why drag the rest of us down with you?”
Even as she cursed, Sara whipped her head around. Shit—when had this bunch crept up above her without a sound!?
Gu Xianwang’s arms and legs were burning with exhaustion; sheer willpower was all that kept her trailing Long Li’s silhouette upward. Fortunately, the stone branches in the canopy were densely packed, offering plenty of spots to crawl into for a brief rest.
She slowed for just a moment, and Ye Chan caught up from a short distance away. The girl was drenched in sweat, her voice trembling as she asked, “Sister Gu… a-are you waiting for me?”
Gu Xianwang managed a nod. “…Yeah. It’s fine—go on ahead.”
Yao Cuo overtook her right after. Glancing back, he said, “Don’t worry about it. Head up front; I’ve got Xiao Ye covered.”
Ye Chan gasped for breath. “Y-yeah, don’t wait on us. You guys… you have no idea… those bronze cages… huff… they’re all coated with scale powder.”
“What?”
“Scale powder! The kind that explodes on contact with high heat!”
Yao Cuo was dumbfounded. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”
Ye Chan was on the verge of tears. “I did say it!”
A cold sweat suddenly broke out on Gu Xianwang’s back. Before she could even look down, the buzzing sounds were already closing in slowly from all sides.
“Quick, go—”
The word had barely left her lips when a bang exploded from the side. A cluster of eerie blue flames rapidly spread from the side branches of the Leaf Crown across the entire canopy. In the blink of an eye, the scorching heat wave was upon them.
At the same time, a crimson flying shadow closed in on Gu Xianwang’s nape. She froze, not daring to turn around, but Yao Cuo and Ye Chan had stopped dead in their tracks. The looks on their faces were grim as mourners at a funeral. Even without seeing it herself, she could sense just how close that thing was.
The blood mark Long Li had left on her back had mostly faded by the time they reached the underground palace. She had no idea if it was still effective. But with the surrounding fires blazing ever fiercer, she gritted her teeth and mouthed to the other two: “Go!”
The white smoke from the burning powder billowed thicker, choking the air. Gu Xianwang fought back a cough and inched upward slowly. She had just reached out when the marrow bee darted from her nape to her temple. It hovered teasingly around her eyes and brows, its blue tendrils nearly jabbing into her eyeballs. Suddenly, a black shadow plunged down through the white haze.
The figure dropped straight from the branches overhead, palm slapping against a stone branch to halt abruptly beside Gu Xianwang. She flipped upward, hanging upside down from a slanted branch at her side, and blew hard at the marrow bee. Startled by the gust, the creature veered off course and vanished into the smoke.
Gu Xianwang felt something wet smear across her face—Long Li had wiped it onto her cheek.
If they hadn’t been so close, she wouldn’t have been able to make out the other’s face. In that instant, Gu Xianwang coughed violently, finally hacking out the cough she’d been holding back.
Long Li waved a hand beside her, clearing a bit of the smoke. She lightly supported Gu Xianwang’s elbow. “Stay in step with me. Don’t exhale.”
Gu Xianwang nodded and, holding her breath, planted her next step firmly.
Glancing upward now, she could barely make out anything beyond Long Li’s back. The shouts of the Yelang people all around, the roar of flames devouring the air, and the screams from above—whether from Sara or Ye Chan—blended into a chaotic din. It was like a vision of hell, squeezing and locking down the heart, breeding despair, urging her to let go and fall.
Her gaze drifted once more to the gash on Long Li’s back. Inexplicably and most inappropriately, her thoughts flashed back to the moment they’d first crossed paths by the underground river. She remembered the smell of the burning alcohol blocks, the way shadows danced across the stalactites, how this wolf in sheep’s clothing had wormed her way into the group with just a few words. The one thing she couldn’t recall was the taste of that chocolate.
For no reason at all, her heart suddenly steadied amid the raging inferno and the lethal air. She even felt like laughing. Realizing how strange that was, Gu Xianwang shook her head—and with the motion, a fresh trickle of blood ran from her nose.
It wasn’t as bad this time. She wiped it away with her finger, smearing a patch of red. Tilting her head back to staunch it, she saw Long Li’s figure freeze in place.
Gu Xianwang hastily smeared the blood away with the back of her hand. She was about to ask what was wrong when voices arguing filtered down through the smoke layer above.
“What’s going on?” She quickened her pace to draw level with Long Li.
“There’s a secret chamber up ahead.”
Gu Xianwang blinked in surprise. “A secret chamber? Here?”
How could there be a secret chamber inside a stone tree sculpture a hundred meters tall?
Long Li nodded. They split up and climbed the final stretch. Sure enough, Sara, Ye Chan, and Yao Cuo were all crammed together in front of a stone door.
The canopy’s structure was inherently three-dimensional. Gu Xianwang had figured that if there really was a secret chamber, the builders would have layered those branches extra densely and thickly for support. But when she’d looked up from below earlier, she hadn’t spotted anything like a chamber floor. Now that she saw it up close, she realized it wasn’t so much a secret chamber as a massive bud sealed in the heart of the canopy.
Slender stone branches wrapped upward like leaf veins, offering faint glimpses of the interior through the gaps. But with the white smoke so thick now, the three of them had been peering through the door for ages without making out what was inside.
With the situation growing more urgent by the second, these three people—each harboring their own motives—still refused to budge an inch. When Yao Cuo spotted Gu Xianwang approaching, he hurriedly said, “There’s nowhere to store anything throughout the entire altar, yet a secret chamber appears right here of all places.”
He lowered his voice. “The thing we’re looking for has to be inside.”
Sara was clearly thinking the same. She gave Long Li a pointed tilt of her chin, her meaning unmistakable.
In truth, she had been the first to notice this stone pod, but the stone door standing before it was far too eerie. If this was the true core of the altar, why were there no paths leading to it from either side? The mountain folk of Yelang couldn’t possibly risk their lives climbing in for every sacrifice. She figured their so-called rituals were nothing more than sending a few people inside every so often to harvest the mature God Eyes from those bronze cages—like fruit farmers picking ripe produce at the right time.
That brought her back to the question: what was this stone chamber for?
The stone door was almost a miniature version of the one outside, with a circular disk at its center. But this disk was concave, perfectly shaped to fit a hand. She hadn’t dared to try it, fearing that the moment her palm touched it, some blade might drop from within and sever her hand.
Among the three of them, Ye Chan had the simplest mindset. She hadn’t even considered that this place might hold a secret antidote for the gu poison. All she cared about was her heartache over the ruins going up in flames—everything reduced to ash. Now, this stone chamber had appeared before her eyes; it had to contain scrolls or ancient texts. She couldn’t save anything else, but she had to save this.
Before Long Li and Gu Xianwang arrived, she had already been ready to press her hand against it. If Senior Brother Yao hadn’t suddenly grabbed her wrist, they wouldn’t have wasted all this time!
“I’ll give it a try,” Gu Xianwang said.
“Wait.” Long Li held up a hand lightly and pointed at her nose. “Blood.”
Gu Xianwang tilted her head slightly, and the thin trickle of blood dripped sparsely onto her chest, staining her lapels. This time, she felt nothing—no white mycelium, no other symptoms. Just blood.
What on earth was wrong with her body?
As she stood there in a daze, a grinding sound of stone scraping against stone echoed from the door ahead. Long Li reached out and pushed the circular disk all the way down. Gears and mechanisms whirred inside, followed by a resounding boom. The stone door shrank inward, and with another push, it swung open.
