Upon the tree-wall behind the couch, there was once an engraved painting, but for some unknown reason, countless marks had been scored into it with a sharp implement, obliterating the image beyond recognition.

I surmised that the drawing must have held some secret too sensitive for public knowledge, hence the defacement.

Of course, I had no time to scrutinize it then; I merely took out my phone, turned on the flash, snapped a few pictures to examine later, provided, of course, that I could ever find a way back from this place.

After taking the photos, a sense of confusion washed over me. Grandpa and the others had indeed headed this way, reaching the end of this path, yet there was no trace of them.

Could it be... there was a hidden passage beneath this couch?

Thinking so, I walked to the side of the wòtā (couch) and tapped the tàbǎn (mat board) above it, eliciting a hollow dong-dong sound.

This indicated space beneath the couch, but listening closely, it didn't sound vast; otherwise, the echo would have been more cavernous. This was likely just a naturally raised cavity underneath the wòtā.

Regardless, I had reached a dead end; I ultimately had to pry up the couch board to see the truth before I could feel any peace of mind.

I hesitated, knowing the couch was an antique, reluctant to damage it. So, I traced the edges and, sure enough, discovered that the top boards were merely laid in place.

Mustering all my strength, I managed to lift the entire top section of the couch.

I was instantly disappointed, for there was nothing inside—just a small, shallow void beneath the floorboards, certainly no secret tunnel.

Just as despair set in, a series of footsteps suddenly sounded not far behind me.

My heart lurched. Could Grandpa’s group have come out from behind me? In a rush, I killed my flashlight, leaped into the shallow cavity beneath the couch, crouched down, and carefully replaced the board.

Scarcely had I settled the board when the footsteps grew nearer. I held my breath, squatting perfectly still.

I had already observed that part of the carving beneath the couch was latticed; I could look out through those gaps.

Moments later, the beams of several flashlights pierced the darkness ahead, and I saw more than a dozen dark silhouettes approaching my position.

Being too far away, and viewing them against the light, I couldn't discern any faces.

I swallowed hard, silently praying they wouldn't think to lift the couch board.

The dozen figures advanced, climbing the steps. Once they were on the landing, I could see a little more clearly, but only their feet were visible.

Yet, seeing only their feet was enough to nearly suffocate me.

For the legs of these things were not human legs at all, but the legs of over a dozen scarecrows...

Good heavens, had the shadowy figures we saw by the entrance of the tree-cave followed us all the way here? If these things found me, what would become of me?

My heart began to hammer, my breathing becoming ragged. Instinctively, I recoiled slightly, pulling my face away from the latticed opening to avoid detection.

Those scarecrows reached the couch but didn't immediately begin searching. Instead, they stood motionless, then automatically split into two horizontal rows—six on each side of the steps—as if awaiting someone's arrival.

While I was bewildered by this strange behavior, a white figure suddenly appeared out of the distant darkness.

This figure wore the flowing robes (luóshā chángqún) of ancient styles, stood barely five feet tall, and wore her hair piled high in an elaborate knot. Though her features were indistinct, I imagined a breathtakingly beautiful maiden, certainly quite young, appearing perhaps fifteen or sixteen.

As the young woman approached, a thin layer of mist began to rise around her, ethereal and dreamlike, incredibly misty and unreal.

It was already astounding enough that a massive tree, a hundred meters in diameter, grew beneath the vast desert, and that the people of Wéi Guó had carved this dwelling inside it. Now, enveloped by darkness, a beautiful girl emanating a faint white light walked alone in this underground world, greeted by a host of living straw figures—what an extraordinary scene!

The white-robed maiden ascended the steps slowly, her garments billowing gracefully.

Behind her, a silhouette taller than a normal human crawled on all fours.

It was clearly some sort of beast. Although I couldn't identify the animal, it followed the girl closely, appearing docile and humble. Moreover, I noticed it seemed to be carrying a person on its back.

As the girl drew nearer, I gradually made out her features, and the shock nearly made me burst out from under the couch like a thunderclap.

My God, that delicate, soft face, bearing a slight smile—this maiden was none other than my cousin, Nie Qilan!

I daresay that nothing I had seen before had shocked me as much as this. Now, seeing my cousin’s innocent face, I genuinely felt breathless.

Truthfully, I intensely wanted to jump out and demand what this girl was doing here and why she was dressed that way.

But then I reconsidered: it was impossible for my cousin to be here. This person might just bear a strong resemblance to her. I decided I needed to observe her actions further.

The maiden stepped onto the platform and stopped before the couch. Only then did the enormous animal behind her slowly climb onto the high platform, moving step by deliberate step.

At this point, I got a clear look at the quadruped: its bulging eyes were like brass bells, its skin was greenish-gray and covered in knobs the size of fists, its nostrils were two large round holes, and its mouth split from its chin clear to its ears. Most striking were two golden lines that extended from the corners of its eyes back toward its ears, growing along its massive spine, giving it an extremely bizarre appearance.

I was familiar with this creature; it was the Kǔ Lóng we had seen in the Black Bamboo Gully. But such a massive Kǔ Lóng truly stunned me. Could this be the King of the Kǔ Lóng?

The Kǔ Lóng King behaved with extreme reverence toward the maiden, walking slowly to a spot beside her. Two scarecrows then stepped forward, lifted the person draped across the Kǔ Lóng King's back, and placed him on the wòtā.

Now I could clearly see the person: it was a severely wounded Xiao, his face deathly pale, his breathing shallow and ragged—he was likely near death.

My heart leaped with a mixture of shock and joy, yet I was puzzled: why had the maiden brought Xiao here?

After placing Xiao on the couch, the maiden turned her back to me, as if searching for something.

A few seconds later, a clear, crisp bell sound rang out—that incredibly familiar, bright chime.

The maiden gently shook the tiny bell, and the surrounding scarecrows began to murmur, emitting a dry, rustling sound, like speech, but unintelligible.

My emotions were complex at this moment. While I was relieved Xiao was alive, this white-robed maiden was clearly abnormal; if she could take on my cousin's appearance, perhaps she was practicing some illusion—maybe a fox spirit or some other ghoul residing in this tree-cave.

So, I began to wildly speculate: was she planning to gouge out his heart or pluck out his eyes? I promised myself that if Xiao cried out in pain, or if blood began to seep out, I would leap up and fight this fiend to the death.

As I was lost in these anxious thoughts, another familiar bell sound rang, causing the veins on my forehead to throb.

This was the same ethereal and eerie bell sound we had heard when escaping the Shù Rè Zǎo (Tree Heat Algae) monsters. It seemed this sound indeed emanated from the white-robed woman.

Thinking back, I recalled hearing a similar chime in the Black Bamboo Gully—when those long-necked monsters were staring at us while we sheltered in the cave; they vanished immediately after hearing this sound.

For some reason, I felt this ringing was beneficial to me, because every time it sounded, bad things seemed to dissipate.

As I thought this, Xiao on the couch let out a soft groan mixed with a hint of pain.

Worried sick about Xiao's condition, I strained to look up through the latticed gaps, but no matter how hard I tried, I could only see the white-robed maiden's feet.

The maiden moved slightly in a small radius, as if using something to perform some highly intricate work.

While she moved, the ethereal bell continued to ring. The surrounding scarecrows remained perfectly still as guards, and the giant Kǔ Lóng in the distance had long since lain down, emitting soft, low snores—it had actually fallen asleep.

Listening to the ringing and observing the seemingly mundane scene, I felt a strange harmony and sense of security pervading the place, and a sudden drowsiness crept over me.

I knew the bell was responsible, urging my body and mind to relax. But I cautioned myself: I absolutely must not fall asleep. This could be the maiden’s enchantment, a trick I had witnessed outside the tree-cave.

I fought the onset of sleep with all my might, but the more I struggled, the heavier my eyelids grew, feeling weighted with lead. Finally, I could resist no longer, leaning against the inner wall of the couch and drifting off.

For some inexplicable reason, I slept incredibly deeply, feeling utterly relaxed in body and spirit, shedding all pretense and the constant tension of imminent death, focused only on deep slumber.