"What are you afraid of, your master still has this!" Following this, Zhou Huan pulled out the military folding shovel and pickaxe he carried with him: "One for each of us, let's start working. We must find the remains before dawn. I need to bring this old fellow out again."

The master and disciple, one with a shovel and one with a pickaxe, began digging beneath the turtle-shaped rock. The pitch-black night was utterly silent, the sounds of the iron tools turning over stones remarkably crisp. At some point, a cool, faint breeze began to sweep over the hilltop, injecting a trace of vitality into the otherwise still night.

"Rumble!"

"Master, it's open!" Hong Kun braced his hands against the corner of a large stone: "Master, hurry and move away! The rock will roll down as soon as I let go."

Zhou Huan shifted a small stone in front of him and stepped aside. Then, only Hong Kun's muffled shout was heard: "Go on then!"

"Boom!" The large rock slid down the slight incline, revealing a wide gap large enough for two people to descend together. It turned out those evil spirits had lied after all, claiming it was only a hole big enough for one person.

"Hong Kun, turn off your flashlight for now, use mine. I'm afraid we'll run out of power later," Zhou Huan illuminated the opening with his flashlight. He saw that the hole descended steeply but had a downward path that looked quite easy to navigate. He adjusted his pack and walked ahead: "Follow me closely, watch your step."

"Got it. Master, those ghosts seemed to be lying to us again," Hong Kun began to harbor doubts about the words of those lone spirits.

Zhou Huan offered a shy, reserved smile: "That's what 'a string of ghostly lies' means. However, given the situation just now, these fellows wouldn't deceive us on the fundamentals. Let's go; whether it's true or false, we have to go down."

The two descended cautiously, step by step. Such a deep hole, on such a mountain, yet not a single living creature—it truly deserved the name Old Bald Mountain; the name wasn't given in vain. Zhou Huan and Hong Kun walked for a full half hour inside the tunnel, and it seemed endless.

"Master, when will this tunnel end?" Hong Kun grew impatient; they had already ventured quite far in.

As they walked, they noticed what appeared to be a light ahead, and the path grew wider the further they went. In an instant, they stepped out into a spacious grassy clearing, beneath a bright full moon overhead.

Master and disciple looked up: "How strange. The sky cleared up by the time we got here. Now we won't even need the flashlight."

"Never mind that, let's keep moving forward and see what's here," Zhou Huan bent down, peering ahead. The grass on the ground wasn't very high, but discerning the ground conditions by moonlight was difficult.

This time, Hong Kun took the lead: "Master, you stay behind. Use my flashlight to shine for a bit; relying solely on the moonlight isn't clear enough."

Zhou Huan followed closely behind Hong Kun when suddenly Hong Kun's foot slipped: "Ouch!" One of his feet sank deeply, and his whole body tilted to the side.

Zhou Huan's speed was astonishingly fast. He rushed to Hong Kun's side and grabbed his hand: "Hold on, pull yourself up!"

"Oh my god, what is this?" Hong Kun shone his flashlight on the foot that had sunk in. His entire trouser leg was sodden with mud: "This damn thing is a swamp, and it has traps too!"

"It's fine, I'll go first, you follow my footsteps." Just as Zhou Huan was about to move ahead, Hong Kun preempted him.

"Master, let me. It was fine when I fell just now." Saying this, Hong Kun rushed a few steps ahead of Zhou Huan, only to land abruptly on his backside a short distance later.

Zhou Huan sighed in utter helplessness: "What is wrong with this cursed place? Traps everywhere."

"Master, no, I think I hit something," Hong Kun cried out in pain, then touched his head: "It’s bad, my head is bleeding."

Zhou Huan shook his head, pulled out a piece of white cloth, and wrapped it around Hong Kun's head. He then held the flashlight and shone it forward. After doing so, he let out a sudden sigh: "Quite the secluded spot."

Hong Kun, still smarting from the impact, gritted his teeth and stood up, shining his flashlight where Zhou Huan was illuminating: "Master, bones!"

"En, let's start a fire. I need to call this old man back."

In front of Zhou Huan and Hong Kun was a small niche just big enough for one person to sit in, less than two meters deep from the entrance. A flashlight beam revealed a skeleton lying prone on the ground, facing downward. Behind the skeleton, it seemed to be carrying something. In the niche, there was a stone pedestal upon which several scraps of paper were scattered; due to the excessive dampness inside the cave, the pieces were stuck fast to the pedestal.

"Disciple, we have work to do this time. Come on, you start the fire, and I'll go take a look inside!" Zhou Huan bent over and squeezed through the opening. A protruding rock stretched outward from the entrance, which was precisely where Hong Kun had bumped into earlier.

Hong Kun built a fire outside the niche. Before long, he lit a large stack of joss paper, which soon began to burn along with the grass near the entrance.

In reality, the hole Zhou Huan and Hong Kun entered was a vertical shaft in the back mountain of Old Bald Mountain. While it was called a shaft, one could theoretically descend from the top, but this was not feasible for ordinary people, especially late at night, making the descent through the hole under the turtle rock the more logical entry point.

Inside the niche, Zhou Huan used the light from the entrance to examine the skeleton. Behind the bones was the very object Zhou Huan most wished to see—the item he believed held the key to the entire affair: a professional camera. He casually picked up a talisman, touched it to the skeleton, and then retrieved the camera. Next, Zhou Huan approached the stone pedestal to examine the scattered paper fragments. Indeed, when pieced together, these scraps formed a single document.

Zhou Huan assembled the papers and held them under his flashlight, silently reading the script. The writer seemed to be someone practiced in calligraphy; the handwriting was fluid, like a dragon dancing with a phoenix, soaring and weaving. At crucial points, the brushstrokes carried the effect of adding the final, vital touch.

The text read: He who sees this is indebted. I am Accountant Yang. I spent my entire life as an accountant and never took a single extra penny. I have always avoided involvement in matters where greed led to trouble. Even in retirement, I left with a clean slate. My only hobby was photography. Who would have thought that in my old age, I would stumble upon someone else's ugly secret and, instead of avoiding it, insist on intervening? This intervention led to disaster. The old man has no regrets about his death today. I only ask that whoever finds this paper will properly bury my remains. The camera contains clues regarding some evidence. I hope a capable person will help bring those lawbreakers to justice, allowing righteousness and light to reappear in the world.

"Yang Jiye!" Zhou Huan murmured the signature. At that moment, he heard a muffled voice behind him, and the familiar sensation of an eerie wind blew in.

The characteristic of the eerie wind was how Shou Shi (Death Masters) discerned the identity of a ghost—whether summoning souls or searching for spirits—by analyzing the wind's intensity and speed, much like how people recognize family or familiar acquaintances just by hearing their voices or footsteps.

"Master Zhou, thank you so much. I am profoundly grateful that you could find this place." The voice drew out unnaturally long on that single sentence.

When Hong Kun looked into the niche from outside, he saw a spectral shadow forming over the skeleton behind Zhou Huan. This immediately alarmed Hong Kun. He didn't know what kind of spirit this was, but judging by the eerie wind, this was at least a soul that died unjustly—such ghosts were never safe.

"Master, be careful!" As he spoke, the peach wood sword in Hong Kun's hand flew horizontally outward. The spirit didn't even attempt to dodge, letting the sword pass straight through it.

Zhou Huan turned around, smiling slightly: "Elder, it seems your grievance is quite significant. If this resentment isn't settled, I fear none of these people will live to face punishment."

"I don't want to kill them, but what choice do I have if I don't?" As he spoke, the old spirit's eyes streamed with tears. But upon seeing them in the firelight, they weren't tears at all; they were unmistakable streams of black blood.

Zhou Huan ignited a talisman and offered the ash to the old ghost. Strangely, when the old spirit accepted the ash, the talisman transformed in its hand into a handkerchief. The old spirit wiped its eyes and said, "Master Zhou, since you share a marital bond with my granddaughter, I am now your grandfather. Surely, you must help me settle my affairs, or I will have to go kill those people... I!"