The departure of the three from Li Bingyu meant the tunnel she occupied naturally reached its end, leaving her alone in the recess at the far end, silently replaying the words Hou Dayong had spoken. Whether to help them or not had become an intractable knot in her heart. To help meant betraying her own faction; not to help meant the love that had just begun to sprout within her would wither and die. She repeatedly questioned herself on how important love was to a woman, whether Li Xiaoshu’s heart was genuine or not, but the answers always eluded her.

While Li Bingyu hesitated, the three arrived back at the wellhead from which they had descended. Looking up again, they saw only impenetrable blackness; the wellhead had somehow been obscured by something, transforming the completed Three Passages into an undeniable tunnel.

“What in the world happened?” Wang Jue murmured in surprise. None of the three had ever been to Reflection Villa; if Xiaoshu or Xiaoyu had been present, they might have discerned a clue, found the reason for the wellhead’s disappearance. But at this moment, alone in the dark, the trio could only grope for the exit they had used, utterly stuck, with no other recourse.

After feeling around for a long time without success, Hou Dayong leaned against the tunnel wall, panting, and said, “How about we just keep moving forward? Let’s find the other two first, then figure out how to get back. Maybe there’s an exit on the other side.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Wang Jue affirmed. “Little brother, you’re not built for sustained walking. Rest on my shoulder for a moment; I’m not feeling tired yet.”

Hou Dayong didn’t stand on ceremony. Hearing this, he swiftly scrambled onto Wang Jue’s shoulder. A monkey’s body isn’t heavy, and with this arrangement, Wang Jue and Zhang Yuqiu were moving twice as fast as before. In no time, they reached the tunnel mouth on the right. There, torches were stuck into the walls, illuminating a pool of crystal-clear water that, under the flickering light, was strikingly beautiful. Wang Jue involuntarily recalled the scene at Silent Mountain and patted Hou Dayong’s back. “Have you ever been to Silent Mountain?”

“To be honest, I went and wasted money,” Hou Dayong replied earnestly. “I was still waiting for the sacrifice in the Sea of the Departed back then. I waited a long time and never saw Li Xiaohao return. Later I found out you all had a fight up there at Silent Mountain.”

“Mmm,” Wang Jue nodded. “But now, we stand on the same front line. Blood is thicker than water—that’s a human truth. I remember those two brothers kicking up such a storm, neither giving the other an inch. Now, you and Zhang Yuqiu are with me, searching for Xiaoshu!”

“That was then, this is now…” Hou Dayong started, suddenly thinking of Yingzi and Xing’er. He wanted to tell Wang Jue the truth about the outwardly calm relationship between the two brothers, but the words caught in his throat. After all, such gossipy matters weren't what a man should concern himself with, so he changed the subject. “Which way do we go from here?”

“Naturally, into the water,” Zhang Yuqiu interjected after a long silence, a hint of teasing in his voice. “I wonder if there are any Ghoul Fish in this pool. I think this must be the entrance, but it seems incredibly dangerous. If you’re not a strong swimmer, you might drown in there.”

“No way!” Hou Dayong exclaimed, surprised. “If you drown, you’ll become famous in the Underworld. So far, not a single spirit or living dead has ever drowned in water.”

“That’s why an entrance full of water like this is designed specifically for anomalies like us. The tunnel inside probably isn't short either. Living humans, unless they have an oxygen stick, would drown halfway through.”

The duo’s words sent a chill down Wang Jue’s spine. Although he had witnessed Xiaoyu and Old He emerge from such a water-filled tunnel at Silent Mountain, he had never experienced that near-drowning sensation, with no exit ahead and no retreat behind.

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