As we prepared, a faint, intermittent firelight flickered ahead. I paused, asking Tang Minghao in bewilderment, "Could there be someone here?"

Tang Minghao scoffed, unconcerned. "Luo Lian, you worry too much. Only the life-threatening Shambala creatures appear here, never people."

In my memory, there shouldn't be anyone here either. Unless... unless they were like that corpse by the water channel, killed by strange insects—a 'person' who had upgraded into a jiangshi?

The thought sent a fine ripple of goosebumps down my entire body. If that were the case, a mobile jiangshi like the one on Mount Qiangba Keng, covered entirely in those bizarre bugs, would render us completely helpless. Our only option would be to retreat, or die.

"Shall we go?" Eighty-Seven and Old Li asked for my opinion almost simultaneously in low voices.

I hesitated, glancing at Zhuoma Yangjin, whose expression was merely confused. Then I looked at Tang Minghao, who seemed utterly unconcerned, insisting he knew this cave like the back of his hand and that no human being besides animals ever ventured here.

"What about that body on the ground, then?" Wangmu interjected sharply. Tang Minghao was struck speechless, managing only a stammer: "That... that must be... it's..."

"Who goes there!" Before Tang Minghao could finish speaking, a perfectly authentic Beijing accent boomed from up ahead—and it was a middle-aged man!

This completely took us by surprise. We had been expecting the dead, not a living person who could walk and speak! In a place like this, a living person was far more terrifying than a monster!

We all exchanged glances, unable to discern the newcomer's origin, and dared not answer.

I questioned Tang Minghao with my eyes. If he claimed there were no people, what was this sudden development? Tang Minghao’s face crumpled like a bitter melon, and he hastily waved his hands, signaling he had no explanation either.

"Who goes there! I hear your noise. Speak up, or blame me for being impolite!" The voice and the torch were rapidly approaching, clearly just moments away.

A lingering echo of "Qi... qi... qi..." resonated through the cave.

Just as I was about to speak, Eighty-Seven burst into a loud "Haha," which echoed again, projecting an air of carefree boldness. He called out loudly, "We are professional explorers who have strayed into your venerable locale. We ask for your forgiveness if we have caused any disturbance."

There was no reply from the other side. The torch drew nearer, but the man stopped when he reached the corpse crawling with strange insects, standing still with the torch held high, frowning at us.

In the dim, reddish glow of the torchlight, I got a clear look at his attire and grooming, and I couldn't help but be utterly astonished, suspecting I had stumbled into a trope from a popular transmigration novel.

He had a gleaming bald forehead, a long queue looped several times around his neck and draped over his chest, thick brows, large eyes, and dark skin. He wore a slanted-collar blue cotton robe, overlaid with a gray-blue vest, and on his feet, thousand-layer padded cloth shoes—he looked incredibly martial.

"Who goes there!" Since we were in the shadows, the firelight cast only a hazy view of us. Clearly unnerved, he ignored the corpse at his feet, casually drew a long, glinting saber from his waist, and then, with a thwack, plunged it straight into the nearby rock wall. More than half the blade sank in, vibrating with a low hummm.

"If you don't speak, the heads you wear will be forfeit!"

We were all stunned stiff. Where had this Qing Dynasty gentleman sprung from, speaking such antiquated phrases? I secretly pinched my own hand; it hurt—this wasn't a dream.

"We are professional explorers," Eighty-Seven said, speaking incredibly slowly, enunciating every syllable. "We are not extras hired by your director, and this is not a performance... Otherwise, call your director over, and I'll have a word with him." Apparently, he thought this was some kind of film shoot, but who in their right mind would risk their life filming in the Linzhi area?

As soon as Eighty-Seven finished speaking, the man frowned deeply, impatiently scanning us before suddenly slapping his shining forehead as if he'd grasped something. "Ah, you must be the group the Night Emperor mentioned!"

The Night Emperor was another name for the Snow Demon.

I inwardly recoiled, fearful that this man might be even stranger than the situation suggested. I quickly backed up, positioning myself to shield Zhuoma Yangjin and Wangmu, and then asked, "What exactly did they tell you?"

Eighty-Seven came to stand behind me, whispering, "What kind of mechanism is this? It doesn't feel like acting."

I signaled him to stay quiet, steadied my nerves, and asked the man calmly, "Are you one of the people in charge of the livestock here?"

The man glanced at me, casually pulled his saber from the rock wall, lightly blew the dust off the blade, and slid it back into its sheath. He took two more steps forward, then suddenly gasped in alarm, pointing at us and stammering, "You... your attire... is... by whose decree..."

His words made me laugh; what decree was he talking about? Did one need imperial permission just to wear clothes? Just as I was about to offer a retort, the man hurriedly gestured for us to come forward. "Never mind, come along, come along. Follow this humble servant. The Night Emperor said there is an expert among you, a companion of his. Therefore, please follow me."

Well, what sort of play was this? He was even using the respectful form of address, 'you' ()! I was beginning to suspect this was indeed some elaborate staging.

At that moment, Tang Minghao suddenly stepped out and said to me with composure, "Go with him, it’s fine. Trust me."

I looked at Old Li and Eighty-Seven; their agreement was necessary. A living person dressed like a Qing Dynasty official appearing out of nowhere meant no one dared to act rashly.

As I hesitated, Tang Minghao added, "It's alright, go ahead."

Old Li said nothing, but Eighty-Seven spoke solemnly: "Luo Lian, we know nothing about this place; we rely entirely on you and Tang Minghao. We live and die together, with no complaints."

With his assurance, I felt reassured. Looking again at the man dressed as a Qing official, a flicker of understanding sparked in my mind, though I couldn't be certain. If he was truly a living person from that era, then... perhaps the answer would soon be revealed.

Having made up my mind, I mimicked a move from a historical drama, cupped my hands respectfully toward the man, and asked in a cultured manner who he was and why he needed to lead us somewhere.

The man answered each question. He said his name was Qin Huguo, that he had always lived here, and only came to meet us because the Night Emperor detected the aura of a kindred spirit and insisted he find us.

After explaining this, he abruptly asked us, "Who is the current Emperor?"

The Emperor? This fellow truly believed this was the Qing Dynasty. But explaining that the current leader was 'Brother Tao' wouldn't make sense to him either. So, I offered vague humming sounds—"Uh... uh..."—and asked him to first clear away that corpse covered in strange insects so we could pass.

Qin Huguo laughed heartily. "Hasn't that already been dealt with? Please, do come over without worry."

Zhuoma Yangjin asked him in Tibetan behind me if the torch had some kind of mechanism. Unfortunately, Qin Huguo didn't understand Tibetan and looked confusedly at me. Zhuoma Yangjin repeated the question in Mandarin, and Qin Huguo finally understood, revealing an expression of admiration, praising Zhuoma Yangjin for being clever—surprised that such a delicate woman could guess something.

Zhuoma Yangjin said calmly, "The moment you arrived, I detected a familiar scent. But it's strange, why would it smell like the sutras we hand-copied?"

Qin Huguo replied, "This humble one knows nothing of hand-copied sutras. Time is pressing; I urge everyone to follow me quickly."

It was then I realized how difficult it was to converse with such an antiquated speaker. I decided to say no more. Just in case, I told everyone to maintain their defenses and carefully walked past the corpse. Indeed, the countless strange insects covering it seemed utterly dead; not a single one fell off or moved to attack us.

I held my breath as I passed. Seeing that everyone was safe, I finally relaxed.

Qin Huguo held up his torch, suspiciously observing each of us. He seemed extremely interested in our clothing but hesitant to ask. He then extraordinarily politely asked for everyone's name before leading us onward.

The blood spring water still flowed tricklingly along the cave wall.

Fearing another misstep, Eighty-Seven hurried to walk directly behind Qin Huguo, turning back to signal me with his eyes to be ready to adapt. I nodded; I understood that much without him needing to say it.

Forty-Three and Thirty-Eight stood guard as if facing a major enemy, closely protecting Zhuoma Yangjin and Wangmu.

I, however, felt no fear. Zhuoma Yangjin was right: Qin Huguo's torch carried the utterly normal scent of hand-copied sutras—the same scent as the tattered sutra we lit in a panic on Mount Qiangba Keng—a scent that brought a sense of peace.

Qin Huguo spoke little, leading us through twists and turns. Just as his torch was about to burn out, faint sunlight gradually appeared ahead, and the blood spring water along the cave wall had, at some point, transformed into crystal-clear spring water.

"Are we almost there?" I asked Qin Huguo.

He confirmed that we were.

At that moment, an intensely sharp killing intent suddenly emanated from Eighty-Seven. Not good—was he planning to attack Qin Huguo? "Eighty-Seven!" I called out to him urgently, "Eighty-Seven, Eighty-Seven..."

Eighty-Seven turned to look at me, wearing a brilliant, merchant-like smile. "What is it?"

"I... you walked too fast... wait for us," I said, rambling without thinking, grasping for any excuse.

Eighty-Seven offered a smile that didn't reach his eyes, his gaze sharp, signaling me not to speak carelessly and ruin his plans. Out loud, he chuckled, "You have two young ladies with you; naturally, you can't move quickly. This easy task, you rascal..."

I didn't know why Eighty-Seven had developed this killing intent, yet I felt a strange affinity for Qin Huguo. Frantically, I could only watch, unsure how to alert him to be cautious.

Unexpectedly, Qin Huguo turned back, grinned at Eighty-Seven, and said, "If you old sir wishes to make a move, my own unskilled techniques can handle a few exchanges. However, you must be swift; otherwise, if other brothers are alerted, I fear the outcome for all of you will be uncertain." Judging by his expression, he didn't take Eighty-Seven—or any of us—seriously.

It must be remembered that Eighty-Seven was quite skilled. He managed to rapidly scale the rock face during our chaotic fight with the Snow Demon and pull the rest of us up. His sheer physical strength alone was astonishing.

I wanted to hint something to Qin Huguo, but Eighty-Seven just laughed again, saying Qin Huguo was overthinking things and that they meant no harm.

Even so, I could still feel the killing intent radiating from him.