Originally, Wang Jue had tied the rope to a large tree near the mouth of the well, intending to rappel down with the same ease as Hou Dayong. Little did he know his coordination wasn't as nimble as Dayong’s; on the very first foothold, he slipped, and his entire body plummeted like a bungee jumper from the ten-meter-high well lip. Before covering two-thirds of the distance, the rope ran out, leaving him dangling awkwardly in the dead center of the well shaft.

When Hou Dayong suggested cutting the rope, Wang Jue frantically patted every pocket, only to discover he hadn't a single sharp implement on him. He had no choice but to wait helplessly for Hou Dayong to effect a rescue from below.

Zhang Yuqiu handed the bronze-handled dagger to Hou Dayong. He flipped the blade, held it firmly in his mouth, and scaled the sheer well wall with rapid swoosh-swoosh-swoosh sounds. In barely two or three minutes, he reached Wang Jue’s side. Wang Jue snatched the knife from Hou Dayong’s mouth, whispered a quiet thanks, then tensed his muscles and sliced the rope, dropping swiftly to the ground.

The instant Wang Jue’s feet touched the earth and he found his balance, Hou Dayong suddenly dove from above, landing heavily on Wang Jue’s shoulder, the impact driving both men sprawling onto the floor. Just as Wang Jue was about to cry out in pain, Hou Dayong dusted off his fur coat and said casually, "You're welcome!"

"Weren't you afraid the dagger in my hand would injure you?" Wang Jue asked, glancing at the bronze-handled weapon that had fallen nearby, still quite shaken.

"If I were afraid, I wouldn't be a spirit," Hou Dayong replied with perfect composure.

Seeing the two poised to begin bickering, Zhang Yuqiu quickly steered the conversation: "Take a look, should we head left or right?"

"Left!" "Right!" Wang Jue and Hou Dayong exclaimed simultaneously, one pointing left, the other right.

Zhang Yuqiu shook her head, thinking them a pair of jesters, yet spoke seriously, "The left leads back beneath the room we were just in; the right exits into the courtyard."

"Then perhaps right it is." Hou Dayong peered left and right; in the pitch black, neither direction offered any visual clue. He figured either path would lead somewhere, the real question being which one led to Xiao Shu and Xiaoyu’s location.

Wang Jue, however, thought differently. He shushed the other two and made a gesture for silence, tilting his head to listen intently to both directions. He pointed left and declared, "There are voices coming from that way."

Hearing this, Zhang Yuqiu and Hou Dayong strained their ears toward the left. All they perceived was profound silence, leading them to ask in confusion, "I don't hear anything." "How can you hear them?"

"It's a long story. The important thing is we’re all in this together; just trust me." Wang Jue felt a flicker of embarrassment; he had no intention of recounting the tale of being possessed by Hua Jinlan, the subsequent massacre in Miao Village, and finally being saved by the high monk Liming’s rituals. He dismissed it with that brief statement, setting the parameters of their immediate game.

Hou Dayong had already felt that going left or right made little difference; if one path dead-ended or clearly lacked any trace of Xiao Shu and Xiaoyu, they would naturally backtrack and try the other. Thus, the choice between left and right was merely a matter of sequence for him. Zhang Yuqiu, ever mindful of traditional sensibilities, deferred to the men’s judgment. Seeing Hou Dayong raise no objection, she agreed.

And so, the three proceeded single file down the left passage, groping their way forward through the gloom. After about half an hour of careful progress, they finally heard the faint sound of someone softly weeping ahead, and only then did Zhang Yuqiu and Hou Dayong fully believe Wang Jue’s earlier declaration.