I was so certain because gathering every memory image of black mist, only this matched the scene before my eyes.

But when that cloud of black vapor actually drifted overhead, I realized this wasn't the mysterious, malevolent aura I had seen before; it was a swarm composed of insects as tiny as the tip of a hair.

“Bzzzz…” The insects emitted an extremely low hum as they flew, sounding almost as if someone were speaking.

So I said to Nie Chuan, “Did you just hear someone talking too? I suspect that wasn’t a real person speaking, but the noise made by this swarm, sounding just like conversation.”

Nie Chuan frowned and listened carefully. He did indeed detect that the sound resembled human speech, so he looked at me half-believingly and asked, “Are you really *? Then take off your mask so I can see.”

I spread my hands, cold sweat beading on my face, and replied, “I can’t, it’s stuck too tight. I can’t pull it off right now. I promise I’ll show you when we get back, okay? Now isn’t the time for this.”

Nie Chuan still wanted to ask more, but the swarm of insects buzzed and closed in around us again, hovering constantly above our heads.

So he reached out and swatted at the cluster of insects directly in front of him, driving them all away.

After just a few swipes, he frowned and said, “It stinks! What is that smell here?”

I inhaled deeply as well, and sure enough, I detected a foul stench, like the smell of pork that had gone rotten after sitting too long.

Of course, the dead smell like that too, but I was simply unwilling to consider that possibility.

Just as I was about to search for the source of the stench, Nie Chuan pinched one of the insects and showed it to me, saying this wasn't an ordinary bug—it was a corpse fly.

I certainly knew what he meant by corpse fly; these insects were usually only found on the dead.

They look identical to common flies, only ten times smaller, and their forelimbs are far more developed because they need them to pierce the skin of a corpse to deposit their eggs inside.

Since the rate of decay in a body is so fast, the eggs of these corpse flies typically hatch in just two hours, and the maggots develop into adults in only three, allowing them to quickly reach massive numbers.

Once they reach a certain critical mass, they will also attack living people; those bitten become infected with the unique putrefaction miasma inherent in the corpse, and their wounds rapidly ulcerate.

During the famine in the early Ming Dynasty, corpse flies caused havoc, harming countless people.

However, after the founding of New China, mandatory cremation was enforced, making sightings of these corpse flies extremely rare; only occasionally can traces of them still be seen in Africa.

Nie Chuan and I share a single body and common memories, so he obviously knew this too.

Once he clearly saw the nature of these insects, he dared not touch them again, tossing the bug in his hand to the ground and crushing it with his foot before pulling me backward.

As we retreated, he said, “Hurry and get back! These corpse flies transmit necrosis; a single bite is difficult to cure.”

I continued to wave my hands, fending off the flies, and told Nie Chuan, “No need to fear. I knew we might run into a situation like this, so I stole this at the hotel.”

Nie Chuan asked with interest, “What is it?”

I smiled and said, “It’s insecticide.”

I reached into my backpack, but my hand received a solid prick.

I immediately pulled my hand back from the bag and saw a small hole pierced through my finger.

I sucked on my finger and found the sensation incredibly strange.

Because I genuinely couldn’t remember putting anything sharp into my bag.

So this time, I simply took off my backpack and opened it, and I was stunned by what I saw.

The water, compressed biscuits, flashlight, and glow sticks that were originally inside were all gone, replaced by stones, dry grass, branches, and human bones.

Not only that, but the flashlight in my hand was also slowly dimming, turning into a dry stick.

“What is going on!” I was so shocked I could barely speak.

In the darkness, Nie Chuan beside me also said, “It’s the same here! Everything in my backpack is gone!”

I panicked slightly and dumped everything out of my bag, fumbling through the contents.

To my surprise, the lighter was still there! A flicker of joy crossed my mind, and I lit the lighter, setting the rotten stick in my hand ablaze.

Seeing this small source of light brought me a measure of peace.

I turned to look at Nie Chuan, intending to ask how he was, but when I turned, I was faced with a pale, skeletal face, almost skin stretched over bone.

The other person was clearly startled by me, immediately falling backward onto the ground and pointing at me, stammering, “You—you—you!”

I was terrified by his expression and touched my own face, only to find that I too was thin, like a ghost.

“What is happening? Where are we exactly, and why have I become like this?” I exclaimed in fright.

“You… are Nie Chuan?” Seeing that I wasn't a ghost, the other person seemed to gather the courage to speak, asking tentatively.

I was momentarily stumped, unsure how to answer, or perhaps uncertain if I should continue the pretense.

At that moment, the other person said, “I am *, don’t you recognize me anymore?”

“*?” My eyes widened like copper coins. How could * possibly be alive? I had seen his corpse with my own eyes! Could I be in the Underworld?

The other person nodded and asked, “Do you know where this place is, or why we are here?”

I had no intention of answering him, instead inching backward, thinking to myself, This can’t be real; this place must be causing hallucinations.

Seeing my ghastly expression, * sighed and said, “It seems asking you is useless. I’ll go see what’s actually happening myself.”

With that, he stood up, preparing to walk into the darkness.

Whether this was a dream or a hallucination, I knew I would have an incredibly difficult time alone, so I reached out and said, “Don't go!”

By then, * had already turned around, and I saw that his legs were impossibly thin, his entire physique resembling someone near death from drug addiction.

And as he turned, I realized that three root-like vines had sprouted from the back of his head, extending upward towards the ceiling, stretching all the way to the edge of the darkness.

What in the hell is that? I shuddered violently.

clearly noticed it too and reached out to grab it.

As he reached for that thing, fear gripped me—the fear that something similar might be growing out of the back of my own head.

So I reached back too, and sure enough, my fingers closed around three tubes.

My heart was on the verge of collapse, so I gripped the tubes, intending to pull them out.

But just then, a face slowly illuminated in the darkness.

The face was extremely long, especially the chin, which stretched down like a pillar reaching all the way to the chest.

As the face lit up, I saw that a wall, resembling a bubble, separated us from him.

“Neither of you move rashly, or you will die,” the person’s mouth did not move, but I clearly heard his voice.

and I froze simultaneously, the hands gripping the tubes behind our necks trembling.

I think I was beginning to understand everything because I saw that we were not the only ones trapped inside this bubble; there were countless people.

But most of them lay motionless on the ground, emitting that nauseating, decaying odor; only a few still showed signs of breath.

The horrifying scene almost choked me.

Then the long-faced man said, “By entering the Bronze Gate to seek me, you have essentially awakened yourselves from a deep slumber. However, not everyone can accept reality after waking up. So you had better return; the Bronze Gate is still open. This is your last chance. Do you wish to continue living like this, or resume how you lived before? The choice is yours.”

Hearing him say that, I seemed to grasp something. Since the incident at Heizhugou, the nature of our adventures had become increasingly irrational. I should have noticed from the beginning that it wasn’t that the world contained so many impossible things, but rather that we wished for those impossible things to happen.

For instance, the cultivation methods I learned, and the so-called monsters and ghost towers—they weren't created by others but by ourselves, because we wished for their existence.

As if reading my thoughts, the long-faced man said, “Don’t look at things so bleakly. What has happened to you, and the world you inhabit, are real. It’s just that you few are slightly different from ordinary people; you all manifest as ideological constructs.”

His mouth remained still, yet his words permeated again: “It would be interesting if you two came to meet me. You don’t need to dwell on what you see now, because I never claimed this was reality. I just want you to know that this is my capability—I control everything you experience and manipulate the entire situation. I will try my best to give you what you desire, but you had better obey my commands obediently, otherwise this game won’t be fun.”

Hearing this, I simply gaped, unsure how to respond.

The other party continued his monologue without pause: “Alright, now I order both of you to return outside the Bronze Gate. Act as if nothing has happened, properly heal your companion Liang Qian, and then continue investigating the matter of your grandfather.”

“Why should I listen to you? Who exactly are you, and where is this place?” I gathered my courage and fired off three questions at once.

The other person merely smiled slightly and said, “Don’t rush, child. Who I am is unimportant. You only need to know that killing you would be easier for me than killing an ant. As for this place? It should be the location you call Durban Island, an island belonging to Chukotka. Your lives were progressing well, but unfortunately, you all died on that island. I had to intervene personally to keep the story going.”