Realities and illusions, how does one distinguish between them? If this stone chamber and the prophecies within the Prophet's Stone Casket were both fabrications conjured by the Corpse Flower, when exactly did this illusion begin?

I feel my mind struggling to cope with such complex questions; if only Shirley Yang were here to help analyze things. The combined intellect of Fatty and myself wouldn't amount to half of hers.

However, I still believe the idea that the Corpse Flower induced hallucinations to make us turn on each other is just speculation. That demonic flower is truly potent; the scene on the stone beam in the Ghost Cave still chills me to the bone, yet I am not one hundred percent certain that the prophet's warnings were a trap.

Fatty noticed me drifting off again and gave me a nudge: "What's wrong, Old Hu? You've been staring into space a lot lately. Are we going to deal with this American girl or what?"

I told Fatty to keep an eye on Professor Chen, then leaned in close to Shirley Yang: "You claim your maternal grandfather was also a tomb raider before he went to America. That’s just your word—how am I supposed to believe you?"

Shirley Yang glared at me fiercely: "You thieving scoundrel, believe it or not... I'm wearing my grandfather's memento around my neck; you'll know it when you see it."

"A memento?" Could it be a Mojin Talisman? Indeed, I saw two necklaces hanging around her neck. I reached out and pulled them up. One was a cross; the other was indeed a Mojin Talisman crafted from the claws of a pangolin.

This item is extremely rare in the world; not every grave robber possesses one, and most have never even seen such a thing. The value of the object is determined by the person, and the Mojin Talisman itself isn't inherently costly—if it fell on the ground, even a scrap collector might not bother picking it up. But for tomb raiders who pass them down through generations, it is priceless; it symbolizes status and experience.

I took Shirley Yang's Mojin Talisman and examined it closely. Comparing items truly reveals quality. Measured against hers, the two that Da Jinya gave Fatty and me were simply worthless.

Shirley Yang's Mojin Talisman was clearly an artifact from the late Han Dynasty. The two characters, Mojin, inscribed on it were vigorous, powerful, and steeped in antiquity, carved from the sharpest pangolin claws. It was faintly translucent, like black crystal. Despite its age, there wasn't the slightest sign of wear. The base of the claw was bound with a circlet of gold thread, and the entire surface was engraved with talismanic flying tiger patterns for warding off evil.

Compared to this, the two mine and Fatty's were instantly identifiable as fakes, clearly artificially aged, and the quality of the material and craftsmanship couldn't even be mentioned in the same breath. Damn it, that bastard Da Jinya tried to fool us with counterfeits! No wonder they never seemed to work.

I held Shirley Yang's Mojin Talisman for a long time, reluctant to let go, genuinely not wanting to return it.

Shirley Yang snapped, "Give it back! Trying to kill us might be one thing, but you want to rob us too?"

I hung the Mojin Talisman back around Shirley Yang's neck: "Since your grandfather was also a tomb raider, why do you insist on calling us scoundrels? You’re insulting him along with us. There was a reason we treated you this way." Then, I recounted the prophecy carved on the stone painting in the second-layer casket, telling Shirley Yang everything. I concluded, "This might all be a deadly illusion created by the Corpse Flower, but until we confirm it, we can’t let you go just yet."

Upon hearing this, Shirley Yang’s expression softened slightly: "Then hurry up and figure something out. Do you think being tied up is comfortable? I’ll let you taste this feeling later."

I stood up and paced a few steps in the room, staring at the stone painting on the second-layer casket. I dared not make any rash move. If this prophecy wasn't an illusion but reality, opening the second layer without killing someone would immediately summon the malevolent spirit to slay them all. I felt more tortured now than if I were stepping on a landmine; stepping on a mine would only kill me. Whether this prophecy was true or false involved four lives—it was an excruciating choice.

Professor Chen had gone mad, and Shirley Yang was still suspect. I had no choice but to discuss it with Fatty. I laid out all my deductions for him, even though I knew he couldn't offer any real help, but I hoped to share the burden on my shoulders with someone.

Fatty listened and nodded: "Oh, so that’s the damn story. I get it. You're worried we’re still stuck in that illusion created by the Dog-tail Flower. Why didn't you say so earlier? It’s such a minor issue, I’ll fix it for you right now."

I asked, surprised: "You can tell the difference? This isn't a joke; we can't afford to play around. One wrong move, and we lose everything."

Fatty didn't answer; he just raised his hand and slapped me. He was fast, and I was completely unprepared; the blow landed squarely, stinging my face fiercely.

Just as I was about to lash out, I heard Fatty ask, "How was that? Does it hurt?"

I rubbed my face: "Damn it, a son hitting his father—you’re rebelling! Does it still hurt? Slap you back, and you’ll know what pain feels like." As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized: If I could feel pain, then I wasn't caught in an illusion. It seemed we hadn't been controlled by the Corpse Flower after all.

I turned back to press Shirley Yang for answers when my gaze fell upon the stone painting on the second-layer casket. It had changed. I rushed over to look closely and saw that the three carvings were slowly blurring, dissolving, leaving behind only a blank, small stone casket with a lid sealed with pitch, intended for long-term preservation of valuables.

Looking at the first-layer casket, there was no change at all; all the prophet's warnings remained, ending with the carving of four people opening the first layer.

What was going on? Was there one true layer and one false? I pulled Fatty over and asked him what he saw on the second layer. Fatty squinted and said, "Isn't it still those three stone paintings?"

I slapped him: "Look again! Are there any carvings there?"

Fatty clutched his face, saying, "Uh... hey... there aren't any now, damn it, this is spooky as hell. Let me see what the heck is inside here." With that, he reached out and pulled open the second-layer casket.

I exclaimed, "You’re too fast! I asked you to look, not to do anything else!" However, when the second-layer casket opened, nothing happened. All four of us were safe and sound; no malevolent spirits appeared to kill anyone.

Based on my experience, I deduced that we had indeed been controlled by our vision by the Corpse Flower. The power of this demonic bloom far exceeded our estimation; it wasn't limited to creating illusions only on the stone beams of the Ghost Cave.

When I tried to rush past the stone beam to rescue Sa Dipeng, I fell into its illusionary trap. Then Fatty and Shirley Yang pulled me back. When I looked back, the petals of the Corpse Flower, which had been tightly closed, were all fully unfurled and facing us.

From that moment on, the range of the Corpse Flower's illusion had expanded. When our searchlights went out, many black snakes appeared. Judging by the situation then, the five of us—two immobilized—under attack by a swarm of snakes, yet none of us were bitten—that was truly a miracle. Now, it seemed those snakes must have been false phantoms.

The Corpse Flower created the illusion of black snakes attacking to force us into the mountain fissure, burying ourselves alive. Unexpectedly, the more we fled into the crack, the farther we ran, accidentally stumbling into the Prophet's tomb.

Although this stone-dwelling flower is formidable, its sphere of influence has its limits. Too far away, and it couldn't generate very powerful illusions. So, it changed tactics, manipulating the simplest structure—the stone carvings—to make us murder each other.

What’s more, the horror of the Corpse Flower is that it doesn't rely on the human five senses to create illusions. As long as you catch a glimpse of it, memorize its mesmerizing color, you will be enchanted within a certain range. Only the farther away you are, the weaker the illusion’s power becomes.

Even if one or two survived, they would be driven to mental collapse from personally killing their companions, ensuring the secrets of the Queen of Jingjue would remain forever unknown. That is truly vicious.

By then, Fatty had extracted the item from the second casket: an ancient book bound in sheepskin. I suspected that the prophet's revelations, the lost Kingdom of Jingjue, and the secrets of the Ghost Cave were all contained within this book.