The creature possessed immense strength, ramming the wall three or four times, each impact causing dust and debris to shower down from the ceiling.

My heart hammered in my chest; I knew a direct hit would surely crush me to dust.

The monster struck twice more from outside, finally letting out a long howl before abandoning the assault.

Then, I heard the "thump! thump!" fading into the distance, and only then did I let out a breath, wiping a cold sweat from my brow.

At that moment, a faint, ghostly light of fire flickered to life before me, illuminating a cold face.

I nearly cried out in terror, but the figure placed a finger to their lips in a silencing gesture and asked, "Do you want to lure that thing back here?"

By the light of the torch they held, I clearly saw that the cold face was actually a mask, styled exactly like those worn by the white-haired zombies outside—eyes tightly shut, the corners of the mouth turned up, utterly grotesque.

I blurted out immediately, "Who are you? Why are you wearing a mask..."

The person let out a cold snort and said, "Look behind you."

I froze, wondering why they were inexplicably telling me to look back.

Although reluctant, I turned my head.

It was then I saw a bronze mirror behind me. It wasn't as large as the one outside, but substantial enough to reflect my entire body clearly.

What shocked me most was seeing that my own face was covered in an identical mask.

Suddenly, sweat beaded on my forehead. How could I have been wearing this mask and not noticed? It was profoundly bizarre.

A wave of fear washed over me, and I instinctively reached to pull the mask off, but the figure spoke, "If you want to die, go ahead and take it off. If it weren't for this mask, you'd already be dead."

My hand stopped mid-air and returned to my side. I urgently asked, "What do you mean?"

Unexpectedly, the person didn't answer. Instead, they turned, holding the torch high, and walked deeper into the darkness.

"Hey! Wait!" Panicked, I followed, peppering them with incessant questions—who they were, why they were here, if they had seen any other survivors, and so on.

The person offered nothing more than an occasional "Mm," refusing to answer directly. Finally growing impatient, they twisted around and told me, "You'll know the answers to all your questions when we arrive."

The tone of their voice reminded me faintly of the innkeeper, Ah Zhuo, but this person’s voice was clearly very different. Ah Zhuo always spoke with a distinct Sichuan accent, whereas this individual spoke Mandarin with a coastal lilt, strikingly similar to a classmate I had from Fujian.

Why would someone from the coastal regions venture into this godforsaken area, the Black Bamboo Gully? I was perplexed but didn't press the issue. We were walking down a narrow passage, about two meters wide and three meters high, extremely damp, riddled with protruding rocks, and branching into many paths.

These passages resembled the tunnel leading to the white-haired zombies, though slightly wider. I wondered how many more secret tunnels lay within this tomb, and what the original architect intended. If I were left alone in this maze, I’d surely get lost quickly.

After walking a short while, the person ahead stopped and pointed forward, asking, "These two corpses. Are you interested?"

"Corpses?" I blinked, walking around to see where they were pointing. It was a turn, and leaning against the wall near the bend were two bodies.

They were skeletons wrapped in thick greatcoats, their mouths gaping wide, suggesting they must have died in agonizing pain.

Seeing two more corpses in heavy coats, looking decades dead, and recalling the body outside, I touched the notebook tucked inside my coat and murmured, "Comrade, I've found your companions."

Remembering the person's earlier words, I suddenly felt uneasy. Why would I be interested in corpses?

Seeing me standing there dumbfounded, the figure said, "If you aren't interested, put on their clothes. It gets cold ahead."

"It gets cold ahead?" I was utterly confused. It was the height of summer; even if this subterranean cavern was slightly cooler, it should still be stiflingly hot. Why would we need these thick coats?

The person ignored my reaction and proceeded to strip the clothes off one of the skeletons, donning the heavy fabric themselves.

I had no choice. Since they were doing it, I had no good reason not to follow suit. If we really encountered snow in June, I’d be the one freezing.

Walking forward a bit, I noticed white vapor escaping my nostrils.

Simultaneously, I felt gusts of cold wind blowing from ahead and instinctively pulled the greatcoat tighter.

We advanced another hundred meters or so, and my lips began to turn blue, my jaw starting to chatter. The ambient temperature had plummeted by more than ten degrees in an instant.

The person ahead stopped again and told me, "We're here..."

The mysterious figure said, "We have arrived at our destination."

I was momentarily stunned. A solid stone wall blocked the path ahead; it was a dead end, yet they claimed we had arrived.

Suddenly, the light ahead dimmed. The figure crouched low and vanished.

Startled, I walked forward and saw that beneath the stone wall was a small opening in the ground, just wide enough for a person to slip through.

Wisps of cold air were rising from the opening, leading to an unknown depth.

A length of rope was securely fastened to the rock face beside the hole, descending straight into the darkness below.

The person had extinguished the torch and taken out a flashlight, sweeping its weak beam into the hole twice before telling me, "The flashlight doesn't have much power left. Follow me quickly."

A sudden hesitation gripped me. We were deep within the belly of the mountain now, and this hole led straight down, possibly connecting to who knows where, especially with that inexplicable chill radiating from it, making my skin crawl.

I asked the figure, "Where exactly are we going? If we were looking for an exit, shouldn't we be searching the main chamber?"

"The main chamber?" The person paused, seeming to process my words, then let out two cold, dry laughs. "You think the place we came from was the main chamber? That was more like a monster's den! If you want to go back, feel free to return and feed the beast."

With that, they began to climb down the rope.

I circled the opening for a moment before finally yielding to the urge and following, reasoning that since this person had saved me, they likely wouldn't harm me now.

Truthfully, I was already weak and injured; climbing down the rope felt like a death sentence.

Although I only needed to grip the rope with both hands and brace my feet against the wall to descend, the rope was incredibly coarse, and my arm strength was lacking. Several times, I nearly slipped and fell straight down.

Fortunately, the person below offered assistance several times. I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached, and the skin on my palms was scraped raw, but I managed to hold on tenuously.

Strangely, despite my clumsy progress, they showed no sign of anger, merely climbing downward... downward... in silence.

The air around me grew colder, but my heart felt colder than the air, because I realized this shaft seemed endless.

Clenching my jaw, I continued to climb, my mind reeling with anxious thoughts. Suddenly, a jolt went through me. What if I didn't know this person's identity or where they were leading me? Was it foolish to follow them blindly?

With that thought, I stopped and looked down at the person below me.

They still wore that strangely smiling, eerie mask, holding the dim flashlight. White mist swirled around them, making the scene exceptionally sinister.

Seeing me stop, they showed no reaction, simply continuing to look up and climb down.

"Looking up while climbing down..."

The realization hit me, and my entire body felt frozen, my face turning ashen. This person was climbing down in an extremely bizarre posture: using all four limbs, yet their head was tilted back, staring fixedly at me!

I was utterly shocked. Putting aside how they could navigate while looking up, their neck seemed broken—held rigidly back, ensuring that perpetually half-smiling face was directed straight at me. Looking at that mask reminded me intensely of the ones worn by the white-haired zombies, confirming my feeling that this person was impossibly strange.