Since the slime proved non-toxic and there were no other apparent deadly traps in the deep pit, * and I conferred, deciding he should descend to investigate.

drew the military saber from his waist, plunged it into the floor beside the pit, then tied a rope to the hilt, letting the other end dangle down. He then gripped the rope, braced his feet against the pit wall, and began to climb down first. I remained above, shining my flashlight down for him. After a short while, I heard a soft plop, and * let go of the rope, dropping into the slime at the bottom of the pit.

landed beside the statue; the reason he hadn't dared to land directly on it was that we had no idea what material the statue was made of—if it shattered underfoot, not only would the treasure be ruined, but our only lead for escape would vanish. I hadn't realized the slime was so deep. When —a man of one eighty-five—jumped in, the liquid level reached his chest. Seeing his expression was less than cheerful, I called down anxiously from above, “, are you alright?”

wiped the slime from his face and cursed, “Damn it, it feels like jumping into a latrine pit.” Hearing that, I almost burst out laughing. When had he ever jumped into a latrine pit? I thought.

looked down at the statue, but didn't forget to tell me, “Don’t laugh. I was a special forces soldier once. One of our unit’s training exercises involved standing in a latrine pit for half a day to build endurance. You have no idea what that felt like.” I had seen many military programs; the training for China's special forces is indeed that grueling. Because the slime was indeed too deep, and the statue was submerged at the bottom, even though the slime was transparent, * couldn't bend over to examine it properly. So he looked up at me and said, “This isn't working. Throw down another rope. We need to pull this thing up.” I did as he asked, pulling out the rope I carried with me, holding one end while tossing the other down.

exerted considerable effort, managing to secure the two ropes—one around the statue’s neck and the other around its ankle. Then, with massive strain, he pulled himself up the slick ropes. After that, the two of us began pulling the statue upward together. But for some reason, the statue was immensely heavy. Even with the strength of two grown men, we couldn't budge it in the slightest. The barbs growing on my hand were already irritating, and now the pain became unbearable. I cursed, “What in the hell is this thing made of to be so heavy? Damn it.” As soon as the words left my mouth, both of our hands slipped simultaneously, and we both landed hard on our rear ends. What happened? Did the rope break? I slapped my behind, got up, and immediately walked toward the edge of the hole. When I reached the east side and peered down just once, I froze, utterly dumbfounded. “Holy hell, what is going on here?” I couldn't help but exclaim.

walked over too, gripping the rope end and giving it a hard tug, pulling the severed piece up. The cross-section of the broken rope was scorched black. It turned out that as we were pulling, trying to hoist the statue, the statue had inexplicably begun generating immense heat. The slime in the pit was subsequently heated up, starting to boil furiously. It was now bubbling and gurgling, sending up steam mingled with a sweet, woody fragrance that obscured our vision completely. “What’s happening? Is the statue catching fire?” * looked at me, puzzled. I thought, How should I know? This is too bizarre. However, upon careful reflection, I suddenly recalled a passage from the Shi Yi Ji describing the people of Wan Qu this way: “The people of Wan Qu possess pearls, only the size of a grain of millet, yet capable of illuminating an entire hall; if cast into water, the resulting frothing foam can flow for several li.” This meant the Wan Qu people had a kind of pearl, tiny as a grain of rice, that could light up a room, and if dropped into a river, its boiling foam could travel for miles. I surmised that we must have accidentally disturbed one of these pearls, causing the ** in the deep pit to boil over. Such a miraculous pearl was undoubtedly a treasure. To let it expend all its energy like this would be a massive loss. Furthermore, the statue of the young woman we saw earlier had a small receptacle in its palm perfectly sized for such a pearl. If placed there, it might activate the mechanism here and reveal an exit. But the boiling ** was churning incessantly, making it impossible to retrieve the pearl. When * understood my thought, he looked very troubled. At that temperature, if someone went down, they’d likely be cooked to a fragrant state before even touching the pearl. The only option now was to wait until the pearl expended all its heat before going down to retrieve it. As we stood there, consumed by anxiety, a sudden realization struck me. I untied the scarf from my right hand and rolled up my sleeve. The green barbs had grown almost up to my shoulder from the elbow. My entire hand was nearly turning green. Despite the horrifying sight, I felt an overwhelming despair, but since this hand was already ruined, why not let it serve one final purpose? Even if it was boiled and had to be amputated, I wouldn't feel the slightest regret.

stared at my green hand, speechless with shock for a long moment. After a while, he managed to ask, “What… what is going on with that?” I managed a wry smile, shaking my head. “I don’t know. Maybe I was poisoned by the Yu demon…” * , tie a rope around my feet now and lower me down upside down. I’ll use this hand to find the pearl.”

shook his head, frowning. “Even with your hand in this state, it won't withstand boiling water. Don't torture yourself…” I patted *’s shoulder with my left hand. “Which is more important now, my life or my hand? If we get trapped here, this hand will never be cured.” *’s eyes widened slightly, then he looked at me. After a moment, he sighed and nodded. “Alright. If you can’t bear it, I’ll pull you up immediately.” I told him to stop wasting time and tie my legs quickly.

followed my instructions, securing one end of the rope to my legs and the other end to his own waist. Then I lay flat on the ground, my head facing the pit, and began to crawl slowly forward.

held the rope taut, maintaining a steady anchor even though he was injured. Since I’m one eighty tall but only weigh 120 catties, it wasn't excessively hard for him. Finally, more than half of my body was leaning over the opening. A searing cloud of steam rushed up, making me cough violently. Thankfully, I had wrapped the scarf over my face beforehand, or my skin might have been peeled off by the heat. Using my green, barbed right hand to grip the edge of the hole, I tilted my body and fell forward.

grunted behind me as he dragged the rope, clearly bearing considerable weight. I looked back and asked, “Are you okay?”

didn't answer directly, but instead said, “I’m letting the rope out. Yell stop when the height is right.” With that, he began feeding the rope downward, and I slowly descended. The closer I got to the boiling surface, the higher the temperature of the steam became. Through the blinding haze, a noxious smell of something burning wood gradually emerged. Anyone who has been scalded by steam knows that steam is hotter than boiling water, sometimes reaching two hundred degrees Celsius, which is why steamed food is softer and cooks faster than boiled food. At my current position, I was just over a meter above the water surface. Log