The female corpse wearing that icy mask lay on the concrete slab. Because the underground chamber was pitch black, none of us noticed its presence when we first stumbled in. Since entering the "Hundred Eyes Cave," we had witnessed countless appalling and terrifying things; worn out by the constant flight, our nerves had become somewhat numb by the time we reached this place.

So, when we discovered the female corpse, neither Fatty, Old Sheepskin, nor I were overly startled, as strangely shaped dead bodies were abundant in this area; we had grown somewhat desensitized. But when the three of us cautiously approached and illuminated the corpse with an infantry flare, the beam refracted off the mask with a faint, eerie gleam. The cold, silent mask seemed to contort into an indescribably bizarre expression, and we were instantly overwhelmed by a terrifying power emanating from the netherworld. That chilling dread of death pierced our hearts, making the air in the basement feel as if it instantly crystallized, as if our lungs and heart were resting on solid ice. Trembling uncontrollably, we could hold back no longer, and with a forced shout to steady our courage, we staggered back several steps. Shattered specimen jars lay on the floor, their contents of human organs and preservative fluid spilled across the slick surface, making it impossible to stand steady. In a panic, the three of us were at a loss, nearly falling over, quickly steadying ourselves by grasping the surrounding cabinets. A thought immediately surfaced in our minds: "This Xianbei witch is still alive, or at least her ghost still lingers near the body!"

Ding Sitian had been placed by Old Sheepskin in a corner, unconscious and groggy. I retreated quickly, failing to see what was behind me, and bumped directly into Ding Sitian. I felt my heel press down on her hand and hastily pulled my leg back. Ding Sitian let out a muffled sound and surprisingly awoke from her semi-conscious state. I couldn't tell if it was a final burst of energy or if I had simply stepped on her fingers. Since the fingers are closely connected to the heart, the sharp pain jolted her awake.

She struggled, asking me to help her up. Seeing the sheer horror etched on my face, Fatty's, and Old Sheepskin's, she followed the direction of the flare held to my chest to look inside the room. She immediately spotted the ancient female corpse wearing the mask and peculiar clothing. Ding Sitian's reaction mirrored ours; she gasped in shock, hiding behind me, and asked if we thought the corpse might suddenly come alive.

At this point, Old Sheepskin was scared witless, his legs trembling uncontrollably. He actually started to bow toward the ancient female corpse. I too felt an unprecedentedly strong sensation that the great Xianbei witch might sit up at any moment. Helpless, I could only shake my head at Ding Sitian, unsure how to answer.

It was highly probable that this chamber was the epicenter of the research institute's vortex of death. The zombies trapped in the passage must have fled because of something that occurred here; otherwise, why wouldn't they hide in this securely concealed secret room? What power did this witch's corpse possess that killed so many people?

A flurry of thoughts raced through my mind, deepening my unease. But once Fatty regained his composure, the unruly, rebellious spirit buried deep within him resurfaced. Wanting to show off, he shook his head, pressed the bleeding wound on his neck, and said to Ding Sitian and me, "Sitian asked a very good question. Can a top-tier enemy possess a corpse? Facing such a grave question, our answer must not contain the slightest hint of romantic fantasy. I'll go kick it twice and find out..."

I offered encouragement to Fatty: "Well said, Little Fatty, but Chairman Mao taught us to pay attention to methodology. Be careful it doesn't bite your foot when you go to kick the corpse. I think it’s better if you use the Kangxi Bao Dao to chop it a few times."

Ding Sitian, breathing rapidly, urged us to stop: "Don't... don't go... I just have a feeling it's going to wake up suddenly..." But Fatty wouldn't listen. With a fierce glare, he stepped forward holding his long saber. Amidst the protests of Old Sheepskin and Ding Sitian, he brought the blade down.

However, just as Fatty raised his saber, the iron door to the secret chamber behind him was violently slammed open. We hadn't locked the door; we had merely propped it shut with heavy objects. Just as we were about to move more things to barricade it, we were startled to see the ancient female corpse in the basement. In a moment of absentminded panic, we had completely forgotten the more immediate threat outside the door.

The ginseng, which looked like an ancient tree spirit, burst through the iron door, accompanied by the half-dead, decaying corpses clinging to its roots. The impact knocked Fatty onto the female corpse, his face pressed right against the icy mask. Even with his immense bravery and recent aggressive posture, he let out a terrified shriek and tumbled off the stone slab, scrambling away. Seeing a tentacle as thick as a child's arm snake in from the iron doorway, I quickly pulled Ding Sitian to hide behind a metal shelf filled with specimen jars.

There was no retreat left in this chamber; the only exit was now blocked. We had no choice but to use the complex arrangement of objects inside and utilize the room's considerable depth to maneuver. As the pursuit and evasion continued, I gradually realized that this so-called ginseng bore a striking resemblance to what is called the Di Que (Earth Aperture) in Feng Shui, where corpses are held. If things are left long enough, they can develop sentience; plants can transform into living organisms. If a newly deceased body is buried near a venerable ginseng root, the corpse might not decay, and over many years, the dead person and the ginseng fuse into one entity, which, when consumed, grants immense vitality. When a ginseng grows to this extent, it is no longer called ginseng, nor is the corpse merely a corpse; they become a single unit known as Di Que.

But this indigenous, native ginseng was different from the Di Que. Although massive and root-like, it seemed more like a semi-living entity dependent on earth energy and corpses for sustenance. Old Sheepskin had only heard some wild tales in the countryside; this might not even be an import from the Huihui Kingdom. No one could clearly say where the Western Regions' Huihui Kingdom actually was; it was just a general term. I suspected this demonic ginseng originated from the ancient tombs and graves of Shaanxi.

It blocked the entrance to the chamber, its numerous root tendrils writhing and stretching beneath it, attempting to capture the living. Although its speed wasn't great, evading its grasp within the small room was difficult. Only the four of us possessed a long saber—Fatty's—which could offer minimal resistance. Fatty hid behind the concrete slab, wildly slashing his saber to cover his head and face, severing a few octopus-like active vines. However, the ginseng had countless roots, and severing a few could not turn the tide.

Furthermore, we were forced to scatter, and with only two flare lights, it was almost as good as being blind, making mutual support impossible. Soon, a fire ignited—Old Sheepskin had lit his padded coat, hoping fire would repel the corpse-ginseng. But the monster was covered in decaying mud and maggots; this meager fire couldn't harm it in the slightest. Yet, the flickering light momentarily brightened our surroundings, allowing us a rough view of our situation.

Ding Sitian and I were hidden behind a metal shelf, in the shadow untouched by the firelight. In the darkness, I heard a rush of wind accompanied by a foul stench sweep toward us horizontally. My injuries hampered my movement, and being unarmed, I had no way to defend myself. I grabbed a chair nearby and held it in front of me. I felt an immense force impact my chest, stealing my breath. The metal rack behind me shuddered three times from the blow. The impact nearly broke my bones, yet I barely managed to block it.

Under these circumstances, even if we wanted to display the spirit of brave fighting, fearlessness in sacrifice, and perseverance in continuous combat, it was entirely out of the question. But the will and determination to survive remained. I blocked the sweeping tentacle. I knew clearly that if it retracted and attacked again, I absolutely couldn't block the second strike. So, bracing the back of the chair against my uninjured shoulder, I pushed the chair with all my might toward the wall, trying to pin that tentacle against it.

Unfortunately, I couldn't gauge the surroundings clearly in the dark and misjudged the distance to the wall. Retreating with too much force, I lost my footing and tumbled onto the ground, the chair leg stabbing into my ribs. The sharp pain made my vision swim momentarily. The corpse-ginseng tentacle I had pushed away swiftly retracted, sweeping the wooden chair along with it. Unable to hold onto the chair, I was knocked down. The tentacle whipped once, shook off the wooden chair, and struck again, wrapping around Ding Sitian and dragging her backward.

My ribs throbbed as if branded by a hot iron. Feeling Ding Sitian snatched away from beside me, I tried to reach for her, but the pain prevented me from even lifting my arm. Watching Ding Sitian about to be dragged into the ginseng's roots, at this critical juncture, I suddenly heard Fatty roar and leap from his hiding spot, delivering a desperate saber slash that severed the vine wrapped around Ding Sitian. Ding Sitian happened to fall near Old Sheepskin, who, risking everything, wielded the torch in one hand and dragged Ding Sitian behind him for cover with the other.

Seeing Fatty save Ding Sitian, I let out a breath of relief. Ding Sitian was already deeply poisoned. If she hadn't significantly improved her physical condition after training in the wilderness for half a year, she likely wouldn't have held on this long. But she had just taken another hard fall, yet she hadn't even let out a whimper. I couldn't see her chest rising or falling, and I truly didn't know if she was still alive.

Worried about Ding Sitian's life, I gritted my teeth and painfully struggled to get up from the floor. But before I could check on her, I saw the grotesque, old-woman-like face on the main body of the ginseng suddenly probe into the basement and exhale a cloud of black gas. Fatty was standing directly opposite, and caught completely by surprise, he had no time to dodge. He was enveloped head-on by that dense, black mist.

According to Old Sheepskin, the corpse-ginseng was a highly toxic substance from the Huihui Kingdom, but once it fused with human or animal remains, it lost that extreme toxicity, and when separated and dried, it could be compounded into an anesthetic according to a certain recipe. But what he said might not be entirely accurate, and we couldn't be sure if the ginseng possessed a poison cloud capable of instantly killing a person. Fatty and I had previously touched much of the foul-smelling ** from the ginseng; our skin felt slightly uncomfortable, but being utterly exhausted, we hadn't worried about possible poisoning yet.

At that moment, Fatty choked on the black mist, tears and snot streaming down his face, seemingly unable to catch his breath. He immediately coughed violently and retreated several steps, dropping his long saber. Several tentacles snaked out from the black fog, attempting to coil around Fatty. Seeing him in danger, I was too weak to help effectively. Without thinking further, I grabbed a glass bottle from the metal shelf and hurled it at the ginseng's withered, wrinkled face.

The contents of the specimen jar—a large mass of some unknown internal organ—splashed onto the ginseng's face with a loud smash. The glass shattered into countless fragments, and the organ and liquid splashed all over the creature. The corpse-ginseng seemed highly sensitive to the preservative fluid; black liquid bubbled out wherever the fluid touched it.

A realization dawned on me. No wonder the ginseng only squeezed its tentacles through the iron door to attack instead of charging in completely to devour us. Initially, I assumed that part of its root system remained in the soil, and reaching the chamber door was its limit. It turned out it feared the preservative fluid that had spilled everywhere. If those jars hadn't been knocked over just now, it would have rushed in and killed us all. Realizing this, I kept throwing bottles, one after another. Fatty coughed up a mouthful of black blood, and seeing my success, he and Old Sheepskin followed suit, grabbing jars containing internal organs and relentlessly smashing them at the ginseng.

There were thousands of specimen jars in the chamber. In an instant, the power dynamic reversed. Under the torrential cleansing of the preservative solution, the ginseng's face became unrecognizable, its whole body putrefying and melting into sludge. It convulsed, trying to retreat back into the passage, but its massive size made entry difficult, so it had squeezed in piece by piece. Now, coiled into a ball, it couldn't pull back. In less than a moment, it collapsed into a heap, never to move again.

Fatty and I supported each other to check on Ding Sitian. Although her breathing hadn't stopped, her complexion was deeply tinged with a ghostly blue-green pallor. No matter how much we called her name, she wouldn't wake. By this time, we were almost completely spent, feeling utterly drained of strength, not even wanting to move a finger. The floor was covered in corrosive liquid and soggy internal organs, leaving almost no stable footing. The dead ginseng had sealed the iron door shut, and none of us had the energy to clear the way. I swept the light from the flare around and saw the masked female corpse lying motionless on the concrete slab. It remained in that cold, strange posture, seemingly exhibiting no abnormality. Perhaps our earlier suspicions were exaggerated. Only the platform looked relatively clean, but nobody was willing to approach that corpse now. We used the last of our strength to support each other and retreat to a drier corner deep within the basement.

We laid Ding Sitian flat on the floor, then sat down ourselves, leaning our backs against each other, gasping for breath, wishing we could just die right then, completely unable to endure this torment any longer. From time to time, I worried about Ding Sitian’s condition. After catching my breath, I had to think of a way to help her. This concern prompted me to reach out and feel for Ding Sitian’s breath again. But as I raised my hand, my fingers touched something cold, bumpy, and metallic on the ground. The great Xianbei female corpse, which had been resting motionless on the distant slab moments before, was now lying silently beside me.

The cold metallic touch transmitted an aura from another world—a world certainly not belonging to the living. As my fingers brushed against the metal mask, I instinctively recoiled in terror. Yet, half-sitting in the corner, I could clearly feel Ding Sitian lying right next to me.