Chapter 59: True or False

Yao Cuo was terribly nervous. “Are you all right? This is the second time you’ve had a nosebleed.”

Gu Xianwang pursed her lips and shook her head. The blood wouldn’t wipe clean anyway, so she simply let it flow. The cave was now scorching hot—at least forty degrees Celsius—with every bit of exposed skin burning. They had only this much time left to escape; they couldn’t afford any delays.

This time, Sara didn’t wait for Long Li’s signal. She ducked low and darted through the door first. Ye Chan, fearing this criminal might cause more havoc, chased right after her. But the moment they stepped inside, everyone froze in shock.

On the far side of the stone pod, directly opposite the door along the leaf vein, a massive hole had been torn open. Thick white smoke poured in steadily from there. The interior was a wreck: shattered stone debris, a stone sword tossed carelessly on the ground, and two…

Gu Xianwang said in bewilderment, “Is this—a cocoon?”

The stone pod wasn’t nearly as spacious inside as it looked from outside. The walls had likely been made extra thick for protection, leaving just enough room for them to stand cramped together, with no space to shift their feet. Hanging to their left and right were enormous conical pods like cocoon chambers, each big enough to hold one person standing upright. The one on the left had a long gash ripped open along its side. It was shriveled and empty now; whatever had been inside had been taken by whoever had entered through that hole.

“Fuck,” Sara spat angrily. “Even this out-of-the-way spot’s already been looted? That’s insane. What the hell have we been killing ourselves over?”

Ye Chan’s eyes went straight to the stone platform positioned between the two white cocoons. It had been carved flat from a single block of raw stone, with a recessed slot dug out to fit the blade of that stone sword—clearly placed here on purpose.

The platform’s color and grain were utterly different from the Fusang Stone Tree. She hurried over and saw that it wasn’t just for holding the stone sword; its surface was covered in dense pictographic texts.

“Can you read it?” Gu Xianwang asked.

Ye Chan was stunned and fascinated, her eyes glued to it. She barely registered the question, frantically patting her pockets before remembering her phone had been gone for ages.

“Take a picture—quick! Does anyone have a camera? A phone? Anything?”

Yao Cuo caught her urgency. “No way. We lost all our electronics ages ago.”

In desperation, Ye Chan grabbed Sara by the arm. “What about your camera?”

Sara gawked at her. “Are you crazy? A camera—now? Forget this junk. What the hell is this altar? Are those Yelang people actually that dumb, or just faking it? Their hideout got raided ages ago, and they’re still out there praying?”

“Let’s go already. Stop wasting time!”

Hearing Sara had nothing, Ye Chan released her and planted herself in front of the stone platform. Her eyes locked onto the texts like laser scanners, sweat streaming down her face unchecked. She pressed her index fingers to her temples, as if channeling some inner power.

Sara ignored her and gave the stone pod another quick sweep, confirming no other hiding spots for valuables. Her last hope rested on the remaining intact white cocoon.

She glanced at the damaged one first. From the torn slit, it didn’t look woven from silk. She prodded it lightly with her fingertip; it felt dry, like sun-baked fungus. Slightly yellower than the intact one, it hung empty inside, like the skin of a burst grape.

“The fire’s about to come roaring in anyway. Why don’t we use this sword to crack open that cocoon and see what’s inside?”

Gu Xianwang knew Sara’s mind was fixed on her own mission. She was puzzling over it herself. The Mountain-Seeking Traveler had said the item she sought was here. The path had been littered with clues tied to the Forbidden Witch Bone, but only loosely—mere fragments and snippets. Now she stood at the heart of the altar, but what was here? Anything connected to the Forbidden Witch Bone?

She drew a total blank.

In her confusion, Gu Xianwang glanced at Long Li. She stood stock-still before the white cocoon, gazing intently as if peering through the cocoon clothing at whatever lay within.

What was she looking at? In a flash, three words streaked through Gu Xianwang’s mind: Nüwa Cocoon. Long Li had once tossed it out to bluff her. Back then, she’d dismissed it as pure fiction—from the Witch Clan to Nüwa, the connection was absurd. She’d nearly forgotten all about it.

Could this thing be the Nüwa Cocoon she had mentioned?

No, that didn’t make sense. Judging from Sara’s reaction, their organization had no information on this stone pod—or even detailed records of the interior of the altar. No one knew what was hidden inside. So how had Long Li known about the Nüwa Cocoon?

Had she known from the very start that it was concealed at the heart of the altar?

The name Nüwa Cocoon inevitably brought to mind Nüwa creating humanity from clay. Could there be a person inside the cocoon, like some kind of coffin?

But this was an altar. Who would place two corpses in an altar?

No, wait—perhaps it wasn’t so far-fetched. She still remembered the enormous statues carved into the stone walls flanking the Fusang Tree. Why were they so gigantic? Did it symbolize the extraordinary status of those they depicted? She recalled that the statue on the right wore a sword at its waist. Ye Chan had once mentioned in the karst cave that in ancient times, swords served as ritual implements, symbols of status and authority.

Drawing on her memory of the sword carving, Gu Xianwang carefully examined the stone sword lying on the ground. Its style appeared to date from before the Western Han dynasty—slightly longer than a forearm, with a rough surface that obscured fine details. However, there was a distinct triangular notch on the blade, as if it had been chipped somehow.

Based on its general shape, she could only speculate for the moment that it might be the same sword.

If that was the case, then perhaps each of the two white cocoons buried a person—likely the two highest-ranking officials of the Witch Clan back in the day. What they called an altar was really just a tomb. The stone sword was the ritual implement of a witch official, left here as a grave good, while the inscriptions on the stone platform recorded their life stories.

Gu Xianwang considered simply taking the stone sword with her. Once they were out, she could study it further to determine whose ritual item it had been. But before she could bend down, a sudden buzz exploded in her mind, scattering her thoughts in every direction. It felt just like that hazy moment before drifting off to sleep, her body going limp as if she might collapse. She gritted her teeth and braced her knee, but her throat suddenly felt gripped by an invisible hand, cutting off her air entirely.

Just as she was about to crumple to her knees, a hand reached out and pulled her sharply to the side. The suffocating pressure vanished in an instant.

Gu Xianwang froze for a moment. She watched as Long Li released her and picked up the stone sword. The instant the sword touched her palm, the wound there burst open. Blood seeped out in thin streams, quickly spreading along the sword’s textured surface.

Sara, who had been waiting impatiently, wiped away some sweat. “Just stab it right here.”

Long Li ignored her, her eyes fixed on the stone sword in her hand. She waited until the blood trickled all the way to the tip before suddenly clenching her fingers with force. The stone shell around the sword shattered, revealing an unrustted bronze sword beneath—its edge hidden for ages, yet gleaming coldly in the dust as if freshly forged.

Sara’s eyes lit up with delight at the unexpected find. “Bronze inside? Nice one, Long—your eyesight really is godly!”

For some reason, the moment Gu Xianwang laid eyes on that bronze sword, a primal fear surged through her. The hairs on her body stood on end, and she instinctively wanted to back away. Though she had no idea whose possession the sword had been, her subconscious screamed one thing loud and clear: she absolutely could not touch it.

She had barely taken a step back when her shoulders bumped against the ruptured white cocoon. Turning her head, she found herself face-to-face with the jagged opening. Inhaling, she caught a burst of rich, cold fragrance—something that cut through the choking smoke like a breath of life itself, flooding straight into her nostrils.

Such a familiar scent.

Gu Xianwang was just about to try to place it when a streak of red flame darted in through the break in the stone pod. It coiled upward, its tip landing on the white cocoon clothing. In the blink of an eye, the man-high cocoon erupted into flames. She stumbled back in alarm and accidentally collided with Ye Chan, who stood rigidly in place. Ye Chan’s posture hadn’t changed since earlier, as if she had been struck by a body-binding spell.

Worried, Gu Xianwang said urgently, “The fire’s coming in—stop looking!”

Ye Chan kept her eyes glued to the stone platform, speaking in fragmented bursts. “One minute! Just… just one more minute. I swear, I’ll have it memorized right away!”

Gu Xianwang glanced at the platform. It wasn’t inscribed on just one side— all four faces were covered in those ancient pictographic texts, like primitive drawings. How could anyone possibly memorize them?

Yao Cuo had been standing by Ye Chan’s side the whole time. He exchanged a glance with Gu Xianwang and shook his head, clearly agreeing it was an impossible task.

But they had no other choice. Gu Xianwang knew Senior Brother was grasping at straws, treating a dead horse as if it were alive. If Ye Chan really could remember something and translate it later, it might prove useful to her.

Sara was also on the verge of breaking down. With her nose as sensitive as a dog’s, the choking ash smoke was pure agony. Now flames were licking right into the chamber, but Captain Long had picked up that sword and seemed utterly possessed, lost in a daze. Despite Sara’s repeated urgings, Long Li finally raised her head—only for her eyes to gleam with a chilling unfamiliarity that sent a shiver through Sara.

Long Li took two swift steps to the White Cocoon and slashed straight down from top to bottom. The Bronze Sword Blade was keen enough to part hairs, carving a clean, silent gash. With a splash, a torrent of yellow water burst forth, reeking of foul fishiness. It clung stickily to their feet before quickly seeping into the stone crevices.

Once the yellow water drained away, it revealed a bloated, pallid Human Corpse inside. Long Li reached out with her long arm and hauled it free.

Gu Xianwang stared at the scene in stunned disbelief, oblivious even as the flames scorched her wrist.

Was this really Long Li?

Why did every move she made radiate such alien ruthlessness?

The corpse Long Li dragged from the White Cocoon wore a robe of fine silken white, pristine and unrotted despite the passage of time. Beyond its ghostly pallor and unnatural swelling, it bore no other marks.

It appeared to be a woman’s body. A quick glance revealed no surface wounds. Sara gagged at the stench, fought back her revulsion, and peered deeper into the White Cocoon to confirm nothing else lurked within. Frowning, she muttered, “This thing… do we really have to lug it out?”

They hadn’t secured the Scroll Boss wanted. Maybe a corpse would do as a consolation prize?

Her words had barely left her mouth when Long Li staggered, as if seized by a momentary lapse. She steadied herself and promptly released her iron grip on the female corpse’s neck.

Confusion flickered in her eyes, but she quickly snapped back to reality—there was no time to waste. Long Li stepped over the body, ripped off a swath of Cocoon Clothing, and wrapped it snugly around the Bronze Sword several times to fashion a makeshift scabbard.

She twisted the remaining strips into a sturdy rope and slung it across her chest. Glancing at the two exits, Long Li made her choice. “Back the way we came. If the fire spreads further, the Stone Branches will be too hot to climb.”

By now, the Stone Branches were already scalding to the touch. Gu Xianwang seized Ye Chan and, heedless of her panicked cries, dragged her bodily from the Stone Pod.

She had just shoved Ye Chan through the exit when something snagged her own ankle. Whirling around, Gu Xianwang saw a tangle of black hair coiled there. Assuming she’d stepped on it carelessly earlier, she started to bow in apology—then froze as realization dawned.

No—that corpse had been lying right beside the White Cocoon moments ago.

How had it suddenly appeared in the middle of the Stone Door?

The thought sent a chill of cold sweat beading on her skin amid the roaring inferno. Gu Xianwang gingerly lifted her leg to shake the hair free, but the strands seemed to grow endlessly with her movement—the higher her ankle rose, the tighter and higher they wrapped.