At this moment, the cave fell into an absolute silence, all phenomena vanishing into nothingness. Before anyone could react, everything disappeared without a trace, as if it had never appeared or occurred at all.

Startled to the point of losing all rational thought, I trembled as I asked Old Li, "Old Li... Wh-what... what was that..."

Old Li's face was grim, his aura terrifyingly intense, and he stated with a heavy expression, "Evil entities! Ghosts!"

In that moment, completely unable to discern the truth, I accepted Old Li’s pronouncement of ghosts. After all, for any Chinese person, regardless of education or belief, the mention of ghosts and spirits inevitably conjures some degree of inner dread, and I was no exception. Hearing that it was supernatural entities, my mind went blank. No wonder I had felt something was wrong, no wonder my mind had suddenly become so sharp—it was my body, inherently sensitive to the spectral and the arcane since childhood, sending me danger signals.

I knew nothing of this domain and could only look to Old Li with imploring eyes; he was a true disciple of Maoshan, he would surely know how to handle it.

Indeed, Old Li reached into his inner clothing, fumbling for something. After a moment, he pulled out a small, dark wooden sword. Despite my panic, I recognized it instantly; he had used this very object on Mount Qiangbake—a lightning-struck peachwood sword. But it hadn't worked then, and today... Thinking of that, I dared not continue the thought...

"..." Old Li was clearly uncertain about his own peachwood sword. He hesitated, mouth opening and closing, holding the sword up, unsure of which evil presence to banish first, especially since they had all completely vanished, leaving no trace.

However, if ghosts were truly present, Old Li should be able to find them; with his level of mastery, it shouldn't be a major issue. I had truly placed all my hope on Old Li; I was completely helpless in these matters.

Old Li, seemingly aware of the gravity of the situation, mustered his courage and stood up. Muttering incantations, he held the peachwood sword across his chest and cautiously approached the spot where Xu Zhiwu's grandfather had just appeared. Though he was moving forward, his stance looked far more like he was preparing to bolt at any second.

With every step Old Li took, my heart leaped. I wondered what kind of vicious specter his peachwood sword would strike, and under what circumstances the scene from before might suddenly erupt again.

"Crack!" A faint yet remarkably distinct sound suddenly rang out. Old Li flinched backward repeatedly, turning to look, his face now covered in large beads of cold sweat. My own chest tightened, and not knowing the source of the noise, I was even more terrified.

Old Li retreated two steps, holding the peachwood sword defensively, poised to strike at any moment, yet his legs were shaking uncontrollably like loose fillings. "Technician Luo..." He strained to keep the tremor out of his voice but couldn't hide it at all. "Ro... Did you hear something?"

I nodded, wanting to confirm I had heard it, but the tension in my throat choked off any sound.

Seeing my lack of response, Old Li asked no further. Maintaining his defensive posture, he slowly turned his head back and forth, his eyes warily scanning the surroundings for the slightest disturbance.

Yet, to my frustration, the strange phenomena did not reappear, not even as I grew numb from fear. The atmosphere in the cave settled into an unnatural serenity.

"Old Li... Maybe... nothing is wrong now..." Hesitantly, I suggested he come back and sit down to rest. "Besides... we are all... vigorous young men... our Zhengqi is strong, we should... we should..." After two 'shoulds,' I had intended to say that no ghosts would dare approach, but the memory of the previous scene caught in my throat, and I swallowed the rest of the words.

Old Li was clearly frightened too, and when I suggested resting, he quickly came over and sat beside me. The silence in the cave was so profound I could distinctly hear his heart thumping heavily. It seemed his terror was no less than mine; he had only acted brave out of a desire to protect us (perhaps).

Thinking this, I couldn't help but glance at Old Li with gratitude. He, however, was focused only on gulping great breaths of air, entirely oblivious to my gaze.

"Luo Lian..." Mártis also snapped back to awareness. The hair on his forehead was completely soaked with cold sweat, and his pale blue eyes were wide with terror. "Luo Lian, Li Zeng... That was my grandfather..." he stammered.

He must have been referring to those Nazi officers. "Oh... is your grandfather dead?" I asked, stating the obvious.

Mártis replied, "Of course, but... nobody ever knew how they died back then. All the team members who returned to Germany said my grandfather and a few companions disappeared..." At this, he lowered his head and muttered something to himself in German that I couldn't understand, nor did I pay it any mind.

Old Li's breathing gradually steadied. He said, "Technician Luo, I can't figure it out—why did those things appear just now? Logically, if they were true ghosts, no spirit could escape a sword made of lightning-struck peachwood. But why did I summon the peachwood sword and get absolutely no reaction?"

I shook my head in bewilderment, wanting to mention how the reanimated corpses on Mount Qiangbake, which we had mistaken for ghosts, were also unaffected by the peachwood sword. But then I paused; that was a tangible thing we could touch, so it could conceivably not be classified as a ghost. But the apparitions that materialized from thin air—how could those be explained? No reason seemed to fit except that they were supernatural. Yet, if they were the work of spirits, how could they fear the peachwood sword so little?

"I don't know," I replied, unable to help.

Old Li lowered his head to ponder.

After a while, the shock had completely drained me, leaving me overwhelmingly fatigued, so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. "Old Li, I need to sleep for a bit," I said listlessly.

Old Li didn't hesitate. "Don't sleep. I'm afraid if your mind dwells too deeply, and you have nightmares or illusions, not even an immortal could save you."

But I was desperately tired. Whatever Old Li said, I didn't care anymore; I needed sleep first. Even if I had to die, I needed to sleep!

"No, I can't hold on, I really have to sleep." I closed my eyes, burying my head against my chest, ready to drift off. Unexpectedly, Old Li grabbed my arm and shook me hard: "Technician Luo! Technician Luo! Look!" His voice was laced with fresh terror.

I assumed Old Li was just trying to keep me awake, staging a performance out of fear that something would happen if I slept. So, without looking up, I mumbled sleepily, asking what was wrong.

"It's back... it's back again..." Old Li’s hands and voice began to tremble.

Startled, I immediately realized Old Li wasn't trying to trick me. I looked up and saw a monstrous, wide-mouthed creature shambling toward us, but its gaze wasn't fixed on us; it was locked onto something behind us.

I followed its line of sight backward, but saw nothing, absolutely nothing! That meant it was coming for us. Utterly horrified, I quickly pulled Old Li and ran to the side. Mártis let out a sharp scream, tumbling and crawling toward our feet, clutching his head, yelling something in German—I couldn't understand it.

But we were in no condition to pay attention to him. Dragging Old Li, we rushed to the side, trying to find a corner for cover. After only a few steps, the large-mouthed creature suddenly turned back around, still not sparing us a glance, and leisurely shambled away.

My nerves still frayed, I stared, dumbfounded, watching it walk farther and farther away, completely incapable of reacting.

"It... didn't see... us," Old Li murmured quietly. I nodded in understanding. I wanted to suggest finding a place to hide and rest, or asking him to use the peachwood sword to destroy the creature, but I truly lacked confidence. In both moments of crisis, the peachwood sword had failed to display even a shred of its legendary miraculous power.

Slowly, the large-mouthed creature shambled out of sight, and only then did I exhale. Even so, I had been scared half to death.

"We... we should leave quickly..." I desperately wished I could fly out of this cave immediately and plunge back into training; only in the presence of large crowds could I banish my terror of the unfathomable darkness.

"..." As soon as the words left my mouth, Mártis let out another shriek, still in German.

"What is it?" I turned back and asked him irritably, not noticing any anomaly in the surroundings.

"..." Mártis rattled off another string of German, then realizing we wouldn't understand, switched to Chinese, his voice panicked, "Look at the ceiling, above us..."

I looked up, and this time, it was truly bizarre. The ceiling appeared to be displaying a movie with fuzzy resolution—it was a film, the sense of distance was palpable, unlike the sudden appearance of the large-mouthed creature right beside us. It was like a silent film, mostly black and white with faint hints of color. Masses of Tibetan people, densely packed, were surging toward a single point with joyful expressions. Leading the throng was a figure wearing a tall crown, his face solemn, constantly looking back as if instructing everyone to maintain order.

Thousands of people surged forward like a tide, yet every one of them moved with decorum, without any pushing, crowding, or arguing. From my angle, it was just an incessant shifting of countless heads.

The image started clearly, but slowly blurred, eventually merging completely with the stone wall of the cave roof, vanishing without a trace.

I vaguely began to understand. Wasn't Old Li saying everything appearing here was a trick of our own minds? The reason the peachwood sword was ineffective was probably due to this: since everything was a product of our thoughts, it wasn't truly existing... therefore...

However, upon reflection, it didn't quite add up. It was impossible for all three of us to think of the same thing simultaneously; we had to be thinking along the same lines to see the same vision together... But I could swear I never once thought about Nazi officers appearing here. At most, Mártis might have thought of it—wasn't his grandfather one of Himmler's subordinates? The question was, how could his thoughts have such a massive influence, causing us all to witness the scene born from his thoughts and visions?