Han Chong shifted immediately, looking profoundly reluctant. One couldn't help but think that if a truly lazy person had been sitting there, they might still be refusing to budge. Ma Xiong's eyes locked onto the spot Han Chong had vacated. Several small, delicate markings had appeared there, along with a few characters.

Ma Xiong immediately dropped to his knees and crawled over, brushing away the dust from the markings, then cleaning the layer beneath it. Only then did he fully reveal the mushroom-cloud-shaped stone. He peered closely, noticing that a host of characters were scrawled haphazardly across its surface—so utterly unconventional they defied belief. There were also some rather strange pictures drawn alongside the writing. However, these inscriptions didn't seem as ancient as the stone itself; from the meaning of the sentences, he could roughly gauge the time period of these previous visitors.

Written there were: "Sun Er Gou was here. Your grandpa peed here. Damn, the OP is an idiot. Have you guys eaten? When are we getting out? I miss my wife." And other such nonsensical scribbles. It seemed others had visited this place before, bored enough to write these things down, and judging by the quantity, quite a few people had passed through. Ma Xiong managed a wry smile. These people either seemed mentally unstable or overly optimistic; at a time like this, they were still capable of joking. He, too, felt the urge to leave a mark, so he sought out the very last inscription, intending to add his own commentary there.

He picked up a small stone from the ground, ready to carve, when he suddenly noticed the final message was exceedingly peculiar. It read: "Human flesh cannot be eaten; it cannot serve as a meal. Haha!"

He frowned, puzzled by the statement. Who could have written this? He shook his head in confusion, eager to see if the person had left a name. Finally, he spotted two characters written diagonally at the very end of the sentence: Lao Qian.

Lao Qian? Qian Lao? What did these two lines mean? He pondered, then shook his head, unable to grasp the situation. Why were there two people named Qian in this desolate place? In all of China, people surnamed Qian were exceedingly rare, yet here was another one, in such an isolated spot—it was baffling.

There was, however, another possibility: that this Lao Qian was Qian Lao himself. He glanced at Qian Lao, only to notice that the elder was staring intently at the inscriptions, frozen in a trance. His face held a mixture of shock and terror. Ma Xiong couldn't decipher what exactly had seized Qian Lao, but he could guess that a connection existed between Qian Lao and this 'Lao Qian.'

He flexed his hands briefly, then called out, "Qian Lao, hurry over and look at this! What does this final line mean? Some old guy named Qian said human flesh can't be eaten, can't be a meal. What the hell does that mean? Come look quickly instead of just spacing out!"

Suddenly, Qian Lao lunged forward as if possessed, throwing himself onto Ma Xiong and slapping him twice across the face with open palms. Ma Xiong's nose immediately began to bleed, flowing like a small stream. Before he could fully process what was happening, he sensed something terribly wrong with Qian Lao. He struggled frantically, but was astonished by the sheer strength of the small, frail old man. No matter how hard he thrashed, the elder held him pinned securely underneath. This development filled Ma Xiong with perverse curiosity—where was this damned strength coming from?

Seeing he couldn't break free, he frantically yelled for Han Chong to come and help. Ge Mei finally snapped out of her daze and rushed forward, pulling desperately at Qian Lao’s back, trying to wrench him off Ma Xiong. Yet, despite every ounce of strength she possessed, Qian Lao remained astride Ma Xiong like a madman, muttering incoherently. Ma Xiong also noticed that Qian Lao’s mouth seemed to be constantly chewing something, and his eyes were now fixed solely on him.

Oh, heavens above, Ma Xiong realized with a jolt—Qian Lao intended to eat his flesh. A wave of chilling fear washed over him. Surely, I'm an agent of the CIA, he thought, how could one old man possibly overpower me? Mustering all his strength, he kicked out violently with both legs, connecting squarely with the back of Qian Lao’s head. Whether Qian Lao had expended his final reserves of hidden power, or perhaps was simply exhausted from being so completely possessed, the old man paused, then slowly toppled sideways. Ma Xiong saw that Qian Lao’s eyes were pure white, entirely devoid of pupils. Terrified, he scrambled upright and shoved the old man away. He had already felt the pressure Qian Lao exerted on him beginning to ease.

It seemed that kick had been effective.

Ma Xiong clutched his stomach, then patted his chest, watching the now-fallen Ge Mei—whom Qian Lao had bowled over—gasping heavily. Trembling, he sputtered, "What in the hell was that with Qian Lao? Why did he just flip me onto the ground like that? Even if he were overcome by animalistic urges, he should have made a more direct move on you! Does the old man have some sort of perversion? Wait, even if he did, he’s sixty or seventy! At a moment like this, who the hell is thinking about that stuff? Not even a dashing rogue like myself would think of it. Oh, right, Ge Mei, have you ever thought about it? If you ever have those kinds of needs, I'm totally available. I genuinely don't care. You know, I noticed you a long time ago, but Qian Lao was always hovering around. I just lacked the nerve. Now he’s out cold, so I won't be polite!"

With that, he cracked his knuckles and advanced toward Ge Mei. Ma Xiong saw that Ge Mei hadn't reacted; she was simply crouched on the ground, looking stunned, as if the preceding events had paralyzed her with shock. She was just staring blankly at the floor, unwilling to move. This only intensified Ma Xiong’s growing hunger and thirst. He ran forward, intending to throw himself upon Ge Mei immediately.

But the previously inert Ge Mei suddenly sprang up just like Qian Lao had, throwing herself onto him. Ma Xiong immediately understood: this little beauty had also succumbed to a feral frenzy at the crucial moment. It seemed he was about to have a very lucky day.

However, he noticed something else: Ge Mei’s pupils had vanished too. He instantly realized this was not the romantic scenario he’d imagined; Ge Mei was also afflicted. He struggled to resist once more. Since Ge Mei was a woman, she was easier to manage. He simply hooked his legs forward until they caught the back of her head, then pulled backward, yanking her off his chest. He surged upright just as Ge Mei snarled at him, springing up to lunge at Ma Xiong again.

Ma Xiong knew Ge Mei was possessed. If he didn't manage the situation quickly, prolonged struggle might damage her body. Already weak, further exertion could mean neither of them would survive this ordeal. He suddenly remembered the Black Donkey Hooves—those items were finally useful.

He recalled Qian Lao instructing him to prepare those hooves and was relieved he hadn't discarded them. He quickly pulled one from his waist and approached Ge Mei. After a tremendous effort, he managed to press her down. He first groped her soft breast with his hand, muttering to himself, "No fever." Then, he forced the Black Donkey Hoof into Ge Mei's mouth. Her hands flailed briefly in the air, her eyes rolled back, and she passed out cold.

Wiping the cold sweat from his brow, he turned to Qian Lao's side and shoved the Black Donkey Hoof into the old man’s mouth. Qian Lao immediately thrashed violently, but after a short while, the struggle ceased, and he slowly slipped into unconsciousness.

Ma Xiong collapsed onto the ground as if a great weight had been lifted, panting heavily. The sheer terror of the moment had exhausted him to the point of immobility. He looked utterly spent. Yet, he still didn't understand why both of them had succumbed to that condition while he remained perfectly normal. Could the mushroom stone be the cause? He hurried back to the stone formation, desperate to see if there was anything else unusual about it.

There were only the same few crude drawings and hasty inscriptions; nothing else caught his attention. He stopped talking to himself, merely observing the writing. He chastised himself for his absurd, impulsive, and selfish assumption.

He touched the carvings on the stone, and suddenly felt all the blood in his body surge toward his head. His scalp burned, his stomach felt hollow, and a voice echoed in his mind: Starving. Eat human flesh. Hurry up. Those people behind you are human flesh—so delicious, so tempting. Eat them, and you will survive.

Ma Xiong shook his head, but the voice hammered inside his skull, and his own awareness began to blur. He felt himself losing control. He turned to look back, and what he saw made him gasp. Lying on the ground were two small, terrified, freshly roasted ducks, with two buckets of water beside them. Good heavens, this sight was more potent than seeing a beautiful woman! Ma Xiong's animal instincts exploded; he pounced, determined to gorge himself today.

But as he lunged, he felt the ducks actually start to resist. He raised his hand and slapped them twice. "Damn it, if you're dead, stay dead!"