Hearing him say that, I felt a touch of confusion myself. Given the young man's skill, whoever managed to injure him could not be an ordinary person or a mere yōkai. This suggested the preceding fight must have been fierce, yet why did the scene of the battle look so strangely tidy?

Furthermore, we still hadn't figured out who had lit the lamp—the injured man, or the one who wounded him?

After surveying the surroundings, our gaze finally settled on the lamp.

*We had said that if you don’t court death, death won’t come for you, yet despite the warning, we proceeded to investigate the room further.

After looking at the lamp on the table for a moment, Dàxióng was the first to reach out, intending to pick it up.

However, as Dàxióng’s hand neared the lamp, we clearly saw the lamp appear to shift slightly to the side.

Witnessing this bizarre sight, we were all momentarily stunned.

It was like the occupying soldiers chasing a village girl: the more the girl fled, the more excited the soldiers became. Dàxióng was like that now; seeing the lamp move away only made him lunge harder. He stretched out both hands, trying to seize it, but the lamp was still a step faster, inching away further.

Dàxióng was frustrated and prepared to pounce again. I noticed the lamp had reached the very edge of the table, so I pulled Dàxióng back, stopping him from grabbing it. If the lamp were to fall and extinguish, we would be plunged into darkness. While darkness wasn't terrifying for us, equipped with flashlights, once the lamp went out, it would be nearly impossible to locate again.

Just as I restrained Dàxióng, the lamp, which had been facing away from us while perched on the table’s edge, looked like an innocent maiden backed into a corner, and it slowly turned around. Although I didn't know how this object could move, I knew it couldn't just be merchandise. Watching it slowly rotate, however, I sensed a faint, almost spiritual energy emanating from it.

The little bronze figure beneath the lamp, which had been facing away, slowly turned to reveal its comically large head. The lamp’s surface had previously shown a happy expression with eyes squinted into slits, but as it completed its turn, its narrow eyes suddenly snapped wide open. Whether illuminated by the firelight or capable of glowing on its own, we saw a faint red light emanating from the figurine's eyes.

As the red light appeared, the flame on the wick in the bowl behind it gradually turned blue, growing dimmer and dimmer. Watching this strange phenomenon, a sense of foreboding washed over us.

Sure enough, as the wick dimmed, agonizing screams suddenly echoed from all around. I scanned the area and realized that many figures now lined the surrounding walls. These figures were all skeletal and emaciated; some were clutching their heads and weeping, others writhed on the floor—all expressions of extreme torment.

As I felt a chill creep up my spine watching them, Dàxióng pointed upward and exclaimed, “Look! What is that?”

Nièchuān and I simultaneously looked up and saw a massive, web-shaped shadow slowly expanding on the ceiling. This spiderweb seemed poised to envelop us, descending gradually. At the very center of the web was a circular void, like a black hole. Slowly, a woman’s face began to emerge from that space. Initially, we could only make out her nose and tightly shut eyes; gradually, her mouth and chin appeared. When her neck fully emerged from the ethereal darkness, she suddenly opened a pair of pitch-black eyes, then parted a mouth full of sharp teeth and let out a low hiss toward us.

Dàxióng broke out in a cold sweat, trying to find a place to hide, only to discover the air was suddenly thick with strands of webbing as thick as hemp rope. No matter which direction he moved, he would be ensnared by the dense network. We were instantly paralyzed, and at that moment, the woman’s two forelimbs, sharp as bayonets, protruded from the void above.

“It’s… Jorōgumo! No wonder that man was injured! Quick, run!” Nièchuān exclaimed, staring at the spider-like woman overhead. The Jorōgumo is one of Japan’s most terrifying and dangerous yōkai. Not only is her appearance bizarre, but because she can spin silk and weave webs to trap prey, the chances of survival upon encountering her are slim. Fast and highly venomous are the Jorōgumo’s most distinct traits; a single bite means even an immortal being couldn’t save you. Countless people have died at her hands throughout history, their skeletons littering her spider lair. And now, we were trapped within the web of this most horrific monster.

“No, we can’t escape. I think we have no choice but to fight with everything we have,” Dàxióng said grimly, looking at the increasingly thick network of silk surrounding us. I drew the small knife from my waist, preparing for a desperate last stand.

And just then, the lamp on the table slowly began to brighten again. As the light intensified, the spiderwebs and the Jorōgumo overhead gradually vanished, dissolving into thin wisps of blue smoke. The three of us let out a collective breath, drenched in cold sweat.

“It seems this lamp is used to seal these demonic entities,” Nièchuān said while wiping his brow.

“Even better, if we take it, we won’t have to fear any yōkai anymore,” Dàxióng remarked, reaching out to grab it again. I quickly stopped him. “That was just a warning. If you provoke it again now, perhaps even more yōkai will appear.” Hearing this, Dàxióng retracted his hand, though he continued to grumble, “It’s such a pity; we finally found a real treasure.”

After making another circuit around the room without further discovery, we climbed back down the same staircase we had used to ascend. As we reached the ground floor, we noticed the newly ground inkstone on the table, causing everyone to look puzzled. Clearly, the young man from the roof couldn't have ground the ink, as we hadn’t seen any newly drawn pictures. So, who had prepared the inkstone? We still had no answer.

It was then that I noticed a tiny stone seal next to the inkstone. The seal was made of ivory and was only as thick as a pinky finger, which is why we hadn't seen it initially. I walked over and picked up the seal. Although I didn’t recognize the Katakana script carved on it, I realized the inscription was the same as the seal found on the Nine-Tailed Fox outside. I decided to take this seal and ask Xiè Yǔtíng about it.

We retraced our steps downstairs, passed through the hall that seemed occupied, and arrived at the exterior boardwalk. As we stepped outside, the three of us looked up simultaneously and saw that the bright lamp was still lit. Suddenly, this somewhat eerie light seemed to offer us a strange sense of security.

As we watched, Nièchuān suddenly pointed toward a third-floor window and said, “Look, there seems to be someone there.” Before he spoke, we hadn't noticed anything clearly, but once he pointed it out, we all saw it: a young man was sitting where the man who had given away seeds earlier had sat. However, this man was clearly dressed in the style of Japan’s Edo period. He held a drawing board and appeared to be sketching the moonlit sky.

“Why didn’t we see this man when we were upstairs?” Nièchuān asked. Hearing this, Dàxióng’s heart began to pound, and he stammered, “L-let’s not look anymore. Let’s just go.”

Just as we prepared to leave, a flute melody drifted down from the rooftop again. The tune was exactly the same as the one played by the man with the black kodachi. Assuming the man had returned, we looked up at the roof once more. As we did, the youth on the roof was also looking down at us. I clearly saw he was wearing a long robe patterned in red and white, and a black, pointed cap—the attire of a Shinto priest, I presumed. The youth was strikingly handsome, holding a flute to his lips, his eyes narrowed as if smiling at us. I felt a strong sense of familiarity looking at him, but I couldn't quite place who he was. Still, seeing his face, I instinctively felt he couldn't be a malicious person.

As I met his gaze, he suddenly lowered his flute, his expression turning serious. He looked around quickly, then made several sweeping motions with the back of his hand toward the outside, as if urging us to leave quickly.