What we all saw were different; each person feared something different, so naturally, what we perceived was also different. That means my greatest fear was betrayal and abandonment by Old Li and the others, yet Old Li’s fear, surprisingly, was my death? That was unexpected.

Perhaps I had been overthinking things before; perhaps they were all genuine. Suddenly, everyone seemed to settle back into normal, though Tang Minghao clearly hadn't processed it. He looked at us with curiosity, somewhat at a loss for how to speak to us, managing only an awkward chuckle.

After a moment, he finally said, "The first time I saw you all, there were issues with each of you. Now... it's quite disorienting.

I worry about losing control of the situation." "Everything is under your control?" A sudden, inexplicable wave of annoyance washed over me. Then why didn't he say so sooner? And what's more...

Tang Minghao quickly waved his hands in explanation, "No, no, I just spoke casually, just casually... Haha." And with that, he smoothly brushed off our concerns. When Yanzi heard that her little pouch was completely useless, she was so enraged she glared daggers at both me and Tang Minghao, wishing she could chop us into a thousand pieces right then and there.

Tang Minghao looked innocently at the "Doctor Ciren" on the floor, indicating it had nothing to do with him, but Yanzi didn't care. She hissed furiously, "If you hadn't said anything, how would they have known? You clearly...

you deliberately ruined my plans!" Hearing this, Tang Minghao suddenly let out a deep sigh, his face darkening. "How have you still not understood? I don't know how the Princess agreed to let you all come out like this.

Ah... Never mind that, let's just go." With that, he turned and scanned the surroundings, seemingly looking for an exit. Yanzi suddenly turned obstinate.

"No, you are not taking them out. I must obey what Zaxi ordered. Besides, you used the divine incense passed down from three or four hundred years ago; you must compensate me." I was just about to argue back, but Old Li beat me to it.

He looked at Yanzi with a knowing, enigmatic smile, saying, "Zaxi ordered you to use us to find a secret, didn't he? Not to repay us with treasure. Do you think we don't know?

In this situation, do you really think we're willing to risk our lives for your so-called gold and jewels?" Yanzi bit her lip and glanced sideways at Old Li, then quickly shifted her gaze away, murmuring softly, "I know you aren't that kind of person." I gave a cold laugh. "And you think we are?" Yanzi stared coldly at me for a long time, snorted through her nose, and then said, "If Zaxi hadn't told me to keep a closer eye on you, who knows what state you'd be in right now." "Zaxi? Why?" I asked, astonished.

"Why did he tell you to look after me?" Yanzi pouted. "I just follow the orders Zaxi gives; I don't ask so many questions." Her tone carried a hint of disdain, but thankfully, this was the real her. The way she looked at Old Li just now—all warmth and gentle affection—was a transformation hard to accept immediately.

They kept mentioning the Princess. Even if I were dimwitted, hearing that someone I'd met only once instructed Yanzi to look after me surely meant it was related to that Princess. And the only Princess I knew was Zhuoma Yangjin.

Realizing this, I instantly understood: everything here was tied to them. That’s why Old Li said Yanzi wanted to use us to find some secret. Just like on Qiemobak Mountain, we had been deceived again.

At this thought, I couldn't even summon the anger. They habitually enjoyed such schemes. Should I actually be grateful that Yanzi was looking after me, thereby absolving them of exploiting me?

It was ridiculous. I wondered why she was willing to cover all my expenses; at first, I thought she was just being generous or something, but now I realized it had all been premeditated. This realization triggered the memory of one crucial thing: Xu Zhiwu hadn't just encouraged me to come to Yunnan; he had shamelessly found countless reasonable excuses to follow.

In that instant, everything clicked into place. All anger evaporated, and I coldly regarded Xu Zhiwu, who showed no panic, instead returning my gaze innocently, wearing that "What's wrong with you?" expression. I couldn't be bothered with him now; nothing said mattered.

The priority was getting out; I would settle accounts with him later. "Hurry up and get us out," I told Tang Minghao with unusual calmness. "While you still have the capacity." Tang Minghao hastily nodded his agreement but seemed worried again, sensing that his own consciousness was returning, and the other malevolent spirit inside him was causing trouble.

His rambling made me agitated again. "What do we need to do to help you?" I asked. Tang Minghao shook his head, picked up the "Doctor Ciren" from the floor, and placed it on the Eight Trigrams Mirror.

As soon as it touched the mirror, the "Doctor Ciren" began to tremble violently, as if in great pain. Tang Minghao sighed, unable to bear it, and placed the Yin-Yang cushion underneath the mirror—for whatever reason—and the "Doctor Ciren" soon grew quiet again. Yanzi interjected, "Why are you bringing that menace out with you?" Tang Minghao remained silent, carefully holding the "Doctor Ciren" with both hands while looking around.

He urged us to check the room for anything unusual, suggesting the exit mechanism might be inside. Indeed, Tang Minghao was correct; his memory (the spirit inhabiting him from an unknown era?) hadn't failed. Beneath a white Khata in the room, I spotted a peculiar candle holder—a figure wrapped entirely in white cloth like a mummy, with only its long hair visible.

Everything else—the facial features—was flat and indistinct. Only the hair seemed unnervingly lifelike, appearing as if it could ripple and flow at any moment. Ripple and flow?

I was momentarily vexed by my strange description, wondering where such a notion came from. I quickly rationalized it, telling myself that being submerged underwater must have influenced my thoughts. I stopped dwelling on it, though an uneasy feeling persisted—I felt I had definitely seen this somewhere before; it was disturbingly familiar.

When I asked Old Li, he said he felt nothing. Xu Zhiwu looked distinctly uncomfortable. When I pressed him, he stammered, "The shape of the candle holder looks like a Han Chinese, so maybe that's why it seems familiar." Yanzi cut in, "How could it be Han Chinese!" Tang Minghao glanced at her pointedly.

"Why couldn't it be Han Chinese? There are Han people here. When he brought us in, both this Eight Trigrams Mirror and the Yin-Yang fish belonged to him." Hearing this, Yanzi murmured a listless "Oh" and fell silent.

Tang Minghao ignored her and instructed me to press the humanoid candle holder downward. If I heard a "click," I was to release it, then twist it three times to the left. If I heard another sound, it meant we were correct.

Without any suspense, everything unfolded exactly as Tang Minghao described. I didn't need much force; a slight push down produced a very crisp "click." Another twist to the left followed by a muffled thud, and then, completely without warning, the entire room began to shake violently, tilting and jerking like a saw blade. This sudden upheaval terrified everyone.

An earthquake? My first thought was an underwater earthquake. Right beneath the candle holder was a small alcove, and I quickly scrambled in, covering my head with my hands, bracing for collapse.

Since there was no other safe spot in the room, everyone immediately followed, squeezing in tightly packed together. In fear, we looked at each other helplessly; even Tang Minghao’s face was ashen with shock and bewilderment. The walls of the structure groaned and creaked, sounding as if they were about to tear apart and shatter into dust at any moment.

I felt an absolute, bone-chilling coldness seep through my entire being. It felt like fate—just when we finally saw a way out, this happens. What more was there to say about destiny?

In that instant, I fell into complete despair. In the chaos, my eyes flickered and caught sight of Yanzi clinging desperately to Old Li, her gaze fixed on him with determined, tragic intensity, never wavering. Old Li held her hand in return, quiet and utterly composed, ready to face death.

The room continued its slow, grinding, twisting motion, seemingly on the verge of collapse but refusing to fall, like watching someone whose last breath is struggling to escape—clinging on desperately, torturing themselves and everyone else. I wished I could just rush out and kick it to make it collapse quickly, yet I was terrified of actually dying if I did. The internal conflict was agonizing.

Tang Minghao’s face was completely bloodless. He stared blankly ahead. After listening to the room sway violently for a long time, he said woodenly, "This exact thing happened when we first came in here." I asked him frantically, "Was it an earthquake?" Tang Minghao shook his head.

"No one died, the building didn't collapse, nothing was damaged." His voice was laced with deep terror. "Could it be... could it be that someone else is trying to enter?" My heart fluttered with apprehension.

Part of me longed to die instantly in an irresistible natural disaster, yet another part clung to the sweetness of living. I ignored him; he fell silent too, staring out wide-eyed and lost. The room shook and groaned for quite a while longer before finally stopping.

The sound of the shaking ceased, but the air filled with an intensely unsettling stillness. I began to feel deeply uneasy; this eerie calm was unnatural. Something major was surely about to happen next, perhaps the brewing of a final moment of destruction.

Thinking this, I suddenly resented having Old Li and the others beside me. We were supposed to be unconnected, without kin or deep bonds—it would have been best if we simply died separately, each minding his own business. Now, it seemed we would die together, possibly crushed into patties, our bones and flesh mixing until one couldn't tell who was who.

If I could choose, I would rather die alone. But fate often plays cruel jokes; it gives you what you don't want and takes away what you desire. Like now—could I run far away from them, four people, to await my death?

Did I have that chance? No. I suspected I did not, because the room began to shake even more violently.

Items on the ceiling—the candle holder, the Khata, the incense burner—swayed and struck each other, emitting strange noises.