The three stone carvings on the second layer of the stone sarcophagus were as follows: the first depicted four figures standing before an open stone box. Three of these figures remained featureless, still possessing the ordinary human silhouette seen before.

However, one of them had an eye growing from its head, two snake fangs drawn in the circle representing the face, and four limbs—unmistakably the guardian deity from the fourth layer of the Black Tower. It was less a deity and more an evil ghost. This single humanoid carving had only a few extra strokes etched into it, yet it made the hair on my neck stand up. There were only four of us survivors left: myself, Fatty, Professor Chen, and Shirley Yang. Which one of us was the evil ghost?

The second and third stone carvings were placed side by side, illustrating two possible outcomes. In one scenario, the three humans and the one-eyed, long-fanged evil ghost jointly opened the stone box. At that moment, the evil ghost would suddenly strike, ripping out the viscera of the other three. The second scenario showed the evil ghost lying on the ground, decapitated and slain. The three humans had successfully opened the second layer of the sarcophagus, revealing a passage in the tomb chamber that offered a route to freedom.

So, the Prophet had given us a hint, allowing us to choose our own destiny? This test was far too difficult. Fatty and I were two legs on one body; neither could be spared. Professor Chen was kind-hearted and had treated me well, and Shirley Yang had saved my life. No matter which of the three was the evil ghost, I couldn't bring myself to strike. If I hadn't known about the Prophet’s prophecy beforehand, I might not have been so afraid. But this Prophet, dead for thousands of years, his predictions were so accurate they left no room for doubt. Was one of us truly an evil ghost? Whether possessed by a malevolent spirit or merely disguised as an ordinary person all along, this was now a stark reality, and I was forced to confront it. The second layer of the sarcophagus would be opened, and if we didn't eliminate the hidden evil ghost, we would all die here as sacrifices.

Who… was the evil ghost? It couldn't be me. I looked at Fatty; the eyes are the most direct channel for observing a person, and expressions are hard to fake. I knew his gaze intimately; it was the same as ever, utterly indifferent to everything, as if declaring: I am number one; anyone who disagrees, I'll beat them up. So, it couldn't be Fatty either. If it wasn't either of us, then perhaps… I glanced sideways behind me at Shirley Yang and Professor Chen. Shirley Yang was watching me too. I dared not meet her eyes and quickly feigned looking elsewhere.

Seeing me and Fatty muttering to each other after looking at the open sarcophagus, Shirley Yang asked, "Old Hu, what's inside the stone box?" I winked at Fatty. He understood immediately and quickly pretended to sit on the ground to rest, strategically blocking the open sarcophagus so Shirley Yang couldn't see inside. I needed to find a way to stabilize them first, devise a plan, and then act. I told Shirley Yang, "There's nothing inside the stone box. It’s empty." Shirley Yang asked that one question and then fell silent, sitting to the side and taking out her canteen, intending to offer Professor Chen a drink. Professor Chen had gone completely mad; he recognized no one. With a wave of his hand, he knocked the canteen to the ground and stamped his feet, laughing loudly. This was our remaining small half-canteen of clear water. Shirley Yang hurried to pick up the canteen, but now, more than half of the little water left spilled out.

Fatty whispered in my ear, "What do we do? Should we just… take care of both of them?" I cut him off: "No, don't make any rash moves before we figure things out. It’ll be too late to regret it. By the way, can we rule ourselves out now?" Fatty scoffed, "Of course! We know what we're like, don't we? I think that American girl is the prime suspect." I said, "I think we still need to go through the motions. Otherwise, when it comes time to act, we don't want Miss Yang and Professor Chen calling us out." Fatty spat, "Damn it, political power grows out of the barrel of a gun! Who cares about reasons? Let’s just take them both down, check them one by one. If they don't confess, torture them. If they still don't confess, then…" He made a chopping gesture with one palm downward.

Hearing Fatty say "power grows out of the barrel of a gun," a strategy suddenly occurred to me. That evil ghost must have escaped from the Jingjue Kingdom. No matter how it disguised itself, it hadn't lived through the Cultural Revolution. These demons and monsters don't engage in political study or read newspapers and news reports. If they disguised themselves as Chinese people, they might not understand outside affairs. So I said to Fatty, "The fact that you just said 'power grows out of the barrel of a gun' is enough proof that you’re not the evil ghost. Now you test me; I’ll prove myself too, and then we’ll question them." Fatty scratched his head, "Then recite a Chairman's poem for us." Without hesitation, I recited: "The international tragedy sings a mournful tune; a fierce gale descends from heaven for me." Fatty nodded, "Right, you're definitely not the evil ghost."

Shirley Yang was exceptionally clever. Seeing Fatty and me continuously whispering, she realized something might be wrong and stood up, walking toward us: "What exactly are you two whispering about? And behind my back?" Fatty and I jumped up from the ground and shouted, "Stop right there! Come any closer, and we won't be polite!" Shirley Yang froze, asking, "What's wrong with you two? Are you crazy?" Fatty said, "Nothing. We just want to hear you sing a song. Sing 'General Lin’s Orders Are Passed Down' for us." Shirley Yang was even more bewildered. What kind of occasion was this? So many companions had just died, and we were in dire straits; who had the mind to sing? Let alone singing "General Lin’s Orders Are Passed Down"—it was utter nonsense. I also thought Fatty’s choice of song was a bit off. Asking an American woman to sing a song from the War of Liberation—she certainly wouldn't know it. But what could I use to test her? Who was the American president right now? Even I wasn't sure of that. I took out the Black Donkey Hoof, using coaxing and trickery on Shirley Yang: "Don't ask so many questions yet. Take a bite of this, then take it to Professor Chen and have him take a bite. Just do as I say; it will only benefit you, not harm you." Shirley Yang became somewhat angry: "Are you crazy too? This donkey hoof is for warding off evil spirits. I won't eat it; take it away." The more she refused, the more suspicious she seemed. I gave Fatty a meaningful look. Without a word, Fatty rushed over, pinned Shirley Yang to the ground, and used his belt to bind her tightly, tying her hands and feet like a sacrificial lamb. Shirley Yang's face cycled from pale to blue with rage, and she ground her teeth, saying, "Hu Bayi, are you trying to silence me because I uncovered your tomb-raiding activities? … You two, untie me quickly."

Professor Chen watched from the side, utterly delighted, laughing heartily, drool trickling down the corners of his mouth. I glanced at Professor Chen, feeling deep sadness. Such a learned elder reduced to this state. However, his suspicion couldn't be ruled out either. I needed to settle Shirley Yang’s situation before dealing with him. I hardened my heart and said to Shirley Yang, "Are you or are you not the Jingjue Queen?" Shirley Yang roared in anger, "You deadbeat Hu, what nonsense are you spouting!" I said coldly, "I think you’re possessed by that monstrous queen, or perhaps you’re her reincarnation. Otherwise, how could you see the situation inside the Ghost Cave in your dreams? And how would you, an American girl, know the secret jargon of us tomb robbers?" Fatty had been eyeing Shirley Yang suspiciously for a while and finally seized the opportunity. He drew his dagger and stabbed it into the ground: "Old Hu, hand her over to me. The fact that she knows we're tomb robbers isn't strange—that monster must have mind-reading abilities. Asking her is useless. Let's slash her face twice and then ask again; see if she confesses then." He moved to strike. I saw Shirley Yang struggling to hold back tears welling in her eyes. She ignored Fatty's dagger, staring only at me. My heart softened, and I recalled how she had saved me in the Zagrama Valley, making me owe her a life. How could I possibly harm her now? I quickly stopped Fatty: "Hold on! Let’s first explain our policy regarding captives to her. If she still resists fiercely, it won't be too late to use rougher methods." Fatty grunted, "Actually, I wouldn't want to ruin such a pretty girl's face, but that demon is cunning; we must be careful not to be seduced by her beauty." Shirley Yang grew angrier the more she heard, nearly passing out from fury. She couldn't hold it in any longer and burst into tears. Sobbing, she managed to say, "I don't know myself why I dreamed of the Ghost Cave. I know your tomb-raiding jargon because my maternal grandfather was in the same business before he went abroad. I learned it all from him. I was planning to find a chance to talk to you about this later… I’ve told you everything. You two can kill me or hack me up; I… I misjudged you both." Fatty snorted coldly, "Flowery words, pretending to be so innocent. Just keep making it up. Old Hu, give your ruling—how should we deal with her?" I brought the Black Donkey Hoof to Shirley Yang’s mouth: "Take one bite, and as soon as you bite it, I’ll let you go immediately." Shirley Yang shot back, "You… just kill me quickly, or I swear I won't let you off in the afterlife. I won't let you go even as a ghost." Seeing that she refused to bite the hoof, I took the dagger from Fatty’s hand. At that moment, a voice inside me asked if I could really do it if she were the evil ghost. The answer was clearly no. But if I didn't kill the evil ghost among the four of us, all four of us would die in this small tomb chamber. Damn it, might as well all die together. While I was engaged in this fierce inner struggle, Professor Chen stood up, grinning foolishly, gesticulating wildly as he descended into another fit of madness. I grabbed him, afraid he might try to open the second layer of the sarcophagus. Professor Chen shouted with laughter, "Flowers! So beautiful, red and green! I’ve found them… hehehe…" Watching him act like a lunatic, listening to him talk about flowers—where had I seen such a madman before? No, not seen him, but heard of him. That surviving British explorer… The chaotic tangle of thoughts in my mind suddenly had a thread pulled free by an invisible hand. The thread was tiny, but I managed to grasp it. "Corpse Fragrance Demon Lily"… Have we still not escaped the illusion trap it created? That demonic flower from hell—are we still within its control range? Is it tempting us to kill each other…? (Irregular updates to the main text before the official listing; one extra chapter introducing the real-life prototype behind a story element will be released in the next two days. Thank you for the votes and bookmarks.)