As I turned back, I suddenly spotted what appeared to be a standing figure deep within the cavern ahead. The person stood shrouded in the distant darkness, perfectly overlapping my own shadow, invisible to the beam of my flashlight.

A thin, cold mist surrounded them, making them seem spectral, an apparition both real and illusory. I stared at the motionless figure, initially assuming it was a frozen warrior from the Wei Kingdom, but as I took a step closer to investigate, the person unexpectedly shifted.

A strange familiarity washed over me, and without thinking further, I nearly cried out, tears pricking my eyes from sheer emotion, because the figure before me seemed to be my grandfather! I couldn't discern their face, and just as I prepared to call out, the figure raised their right index finger and made a silencing gesture near their lips.

My voice caught dead in my throat. Then, the person who looked like my grandfather made a peculiar sign: both hands raised, the left showing four fingers, the right clenched in a fist; then the left hand shifted to three fingers, the right opening palm up.

I was utterly bewildered, wondering if Grandpa was trying to signal me a sequence of numbers: Left hand four, right hand ten, then left hand three, right hand five. Four, ten, three, five—what connection did these numbers hold?

Before I could decipher it, the figure swiftly turned and vanished back into the darkness. Seeing him go, I felt a surge of panic and tried to pursue, but someone violently grabbed the collar of my coat and hurled me backward to the ground, the impact making stars flash before my eyes.

Before I could process what happened, I heard the Moustache cursing behind me, "What the hell are you playing at, gesturing wildly at a sheer cliff? Are you trying to summon spirits?" Hearing this, I couldn't help but raise my head, stunned to realize that less than half a meter in front of me was indeed a precipice dropping into an unfathomable depth.

Pale, chilling air wafted up from the abyss, its extent unknown. Cold sweat instantly drenched me.

I knew absolutely that the vision of my grandfather had been a hallucination; any normal person would have fallen. Could it have been Grandpa’s ghost?

Was he truly dead? What was he trying to convey?

A sudden wave of despondency washed over me. I turned and saw the group of international thieves watching me with expressions of mockery; clearly, they had been observing me for some time.

The Moustache yanked me to my feet and said, "Listen! What is that sound?" Everyone fell silent, straining to hear.

I suppressed my ragged breathing, and soon an unusual sound registered in my ears. I realized this vast subterranean chasm was not quiet, but filled with a medley of noises.

First, the mournful sound of wind—though I couldn't fathom how wind existed in this sealed space—but the low, weeping moan and the icy chill brushing my face confirmed its presence. Second, a faint sound interwoven with the wind, which, if I had to describe it, was like something slicing through the air with a whoosh.

The Moustache glanced at me and asked, "Are there creatures down in this abyss?" I nodded. "Yes, and quite a few.

Maybe those light orbs from before." The Moustache swept his wolf-eye flashlight through the swirling mist in the depths, but the fog was too thick for clarity. He then aimed across the chasm and sharply focused on the opposite bank, several dozen meters away, where a colossal stone stele stood upright.

Even as the mist continuously rose from the abyss, we could clearly make out the characters inscribed on the monument. They were two simple characters, which I recognized as Seal Script, meaning: "The Nether River." The megalith was at least five or six meters tall, resting atop a Bixi turtle-dragon, whose eyes seemed fashioned from some dark gemstone, reflecting the beam of the wolf-eye flashlight like living things.

The massive body of the Bixi lay quiescent in the fog, possessing an ineffable majesty. But what astonished us most was not the lifelike Bixi, but the shadowy figure perched upon the creature's enormous head, their back to us, examining something on the Bixi's crown.

I saw the figure was slender, with long hair cascading down; clearly a woman, which instantly made me think of Liang Qian. The woman sensed the light from the flashlights behind her, glanced back, and then stood up straight.

I watched her pull a dark object from her waist, and before I could identify it, the Moustache behind me yelled, "Get down!" Crack-crack! Two gunshots whizzed past my face, striking the rock wall behind us, making me flinch violently.

Seeing the woman fire, those of us on this side returned fire, and the crack-crack of our weapons echoed. After a few bursts, the woman had vanished.

On the Bixi's head, something box-shaped seemed to have been left behind. The Moustache crouched low, sweeping his light around briefly.

Once he confirmed the woman was gone, he said, "If this dame can get across, so can we. Everyone spread out and look for any kind of bridge." He left one guard stationed near me, and the rest dispersed, searching along the edge of the chasm.

I was still reeling, certain that the woman’s two shots had been aimed directly at me. If she were Liang Qian, she wouldn't want me dead.

And at twenty meters, it wasn't a long shot; given her marksmanship, she could have easily killed me in a surprise attack. Yet those two shots seemed deliberately wide.

A sudden, ominous feeling settled over me, and I instinctively turned back toward the cavern entrance we had used. Before I could focus, a piercing shriek ripped through my eardrums.

The Moustache, not far away, snapped around, shining his light toward the source of the scream. The sight nearly made me vomit.

Not far behind me, a monstrous Centipede-Spider had pinned a guard to the ground. Its massive, pincer-like mandibles were buried deep in the man's temple, and red and green fluids were gushing from his skull—he was clearly beyond saving.

The Centipede-Spider had two depressions on its back—exactly where Liang Qian’s two bullets must have struck. In an unseen act, Liang Qian had saved me again.

Sensing the light, the creature violently shook its head, flinging the corpse aside, and quickly retreated into the darkness. These men, being international thieves, were clearly well-trained; none panicked at the carnage.

They swiftly regrouped around me, and several wolf-eye flashlights illuminated different directions simultaneously. Just then, one beam caught sight of a massive dark shadow rapidly lunging toward us.

The man holding that flashlight suddenly intensified the beam, turning the surroundings as bright as day. The Centipede-Spider, apparently terrified of the intense light, emitted an angry, low roar and rapidly curled its body, dropping down from overhead like a colossal iron ball.

I hadn't expected this beast to have such a trick. The giant sphere, two to three meters in diameter, whistled as it fell; if it struck me, I’d be crushed flat.

I thought, Oh God, I’m done for, about to be turned into a bowling pin! when I suddenly heard a Ding sound near my ear.

I looked and instantly went white: the Moustache had just pulled the pin on a grenade! He was going all out.

I instantly dove forward, hitting the ground flat on my stomach. Less than a second after I landed, there was a heavy Thump overhead, and my head spun dizzyingly.

It took about a minute before I regained full consciousness. Since my hands were still bound, I struggled to roll over and looked up to assess the surroundings.

The sight made a fresh wave of cold sweat break out. Not far from my face, a leg of the Centipede-Spider was deeply embedded in the ground.

Had my head been even slightly further forward, my skull would surely have been pierced. Four or five wolf-eye flashlights lay scattered on the ground; two were blinking erratically, likely short-circuiting.

In the fluctuating light, I saw seven or eight men lying prone. Their prone positions resembled an opened lotus flower—they had clearly dove outward in an orderly fashion when the grenade exploded.

Then, their bodies began to move; apparently, no one had been killed by the blast. I became instantly furious.

These men were obviously prepared, and when throwing the grenade, they hadn't given a second thought to my safety. If I hadn't dropped fast enough, someone might have used me as a shield.

I muttered under my breath, "Damn it, lucky for me I’m tough to kill." The men slowly climbed up from the ground, ignoring me, and began clearing the remains of the Centipede-Spider.