The Fatty grabbed my arm and said, "Old Hu, what if the rope snaps? You have to be extremely careful. We still have a lot of money we haven't spent; it's not time to become a hero yet. If things look bad, run back immediately, don't try to be brave."

I said to the Fatty, "That goes double for you. You need to be careful staying up there too. If the rope breaks midway, don't pull it back; just let it hang as it is. If you pull the rope away, I won't have a way to find my way back."

I thought it over, still uneasy, and cautioned the Fatty again, "Little Fatty, you must not move from where you are standing. Da Jin Ya and I are going down from here. If we manage to get off these goddamn stone steps, we'll use the rope to pull you out."

The Fatty replied, "No problem, you two rest assured. If there's any danger, just whistle, and I can pull both of you back with just one arm."

As long as the rope connecting the three of us could span a distance exceeding twenty-three steps, we should be able to break free of these cyclical, ghostly stairs. Realizing escape was imminent, the three of us could barely contain our excitement. The Fatty stayed put, and Da Jin Ya and I took the rope down.

With every step I took down, I looked back at the candlelight marking the Fatty's location. When I reached the sixth step down, I told Da Jin Ya to stay put. This way, Da Jin Ya would remain within the Fatty's line of sight, offering some mutual support. After all, Da Jin Ya was accustomed to a life of pampered ease, good food, and drink, and had never endured trials of this life-or-death nature. If he couldn't see his comrade, he might easily become overly tense and make some irrational moves.

This was the sixth step down, counted from the Fatty's position. Da Jin Ya lit a candle, checked the rope tied around his waist, handed the remainder of the rope to me, and stayed put on the sixth step to wait.

I said to Da Jin Ya, "After I go down, I will follow the steps all the way to the bottom. If I can get past these twenty-three stone steps, I will tug the rope three times. You then notify the Fatty upstairs, and after meeting up with him, you both follow the rope down."

Da Jin Ya told me, "Master Hu, please don't worry. Although I'm not very capable, I won't be careless in a matter of life and death. I will wait right here and await your good news."

Seeing his earnestness, I nodded, holding the coiled rope in my hands, and continued descending along the stone steps, releasing a bit of rope with every step.

When I was twelve steps down from the Fatty, I glanced at the large bundle of rope in my hands. Although I knew there was enough, I instinctively calculated the distance: twenty-three stone steps, twenty-three minus twelve, leaving only a small fraction of the distance left. The rope was sufficient.

I silently counted the steps beneath my feet. Once I surpassed twenty-three steps, I could return to the Underworld Hall. Could I really return to the Underworld Hall? At this moment, I suddenly felt uncertain again.

Before me was endless, pitch darkness. The further down I went, the faster my heart beat. Perhaps it was because the greater the hope, the greater the disappointment. But having come this far, I could only grit my teeth and continue downward.

Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three. That crescent-shaped mark appeared again on the steps. But the steps below showed no end. This was truly seeing a ghost! I forced myself to keep walking; I had to descend until the rope ran out.

The rope in my hands was growing shorter, and a prickle of fear ran down my spine. I was ready to turn back, unwilling to go further down. Just then, I suddenly spotted a faint light below the steps. I quickened my pace downward, and the closer I got, the more astonished I became. A person was standing below me, his broad back turned away, a candle lit at his feet. The light I had seen from above was the weak glow from this very candle.

That person was clearly the Fatty, who should have been above me. He was standing on his tiptoes, constantly peering down. I clearly saw it was the Fatty and instantly felt my heart sink. It seemed this method had failed again. I had no choice but to walk over and slap the Fatty on the back: "Alright, stop looking. Hu Hansan is back again."

The Fatty, completely unprepared, was startled despite his courage, and tumbled down the stairs. I reached out frantically to grab his arm, but he was simply too stout. Although I managed to grasp his sleeve, I couldn't hold him back, only tearing off a section of his outer garment.

Fortunately, he was nimble; he only rolled down two steps before stopping. He looked up to see me emerging from behind him, and he was equally astonished. He asked, "Old Hu, how the hell did you get down from up there? Raising kids isn't what you call raising them; it's called scaring people! Oh my god, that damn fright nearly killed me. You could have given a warning!"

I said to the Fatty, "Don't be so jumpy. You're not some young lady or a child. You're tough and thick-skinned; a little scare won't hurt you."

I sat down on the steps, untied the rope at my waist, and said to the Fatty, "It's no use. It seems our judgment was completely correct. These steps are the chaotic border area of the Ghost Tomb. Spatial theorems do not apply on this staircase. Hurry up and pull Old Jin up; we need to figure out another plan."

The Fatty tugged the rope and pulled Da Jin Ya up, then explained the whole sequence of events. Upon hearing it, Da Jin Ya was also crestfallen. I said to the Fatty and Da Jin Ya, "Although the saying goes that morale peaks at the first charge, wanes at the second, and is exhausted by the third, it's not time for us to get discouraged yet. While we still have the strength before hunger incapacitates us, let's quickly think if there's any other trick left. If a few more hours pass and we're too weak from hunger to move, we'll truly have to close our eyes and wait for death."

The moment hunger was mentioned, the Fatty's stomach roared. He grabbed the neck of a large goose lying on the ground and said, "That's an exaggeration. If we truly have no solution, we still have two roasted geese to eat. Since you and Old Jin said we can't kill a goose on these stairs, we can eat one now and save the other to kill once we reach the Underworld Hall."

I asked the Fatty, "We have no firewood here, so how can we eat? Are you planning to eat it raw?"

The Fatty wiped the drool trickling down his mouth and said, "What's wrong with eating it raw? Didn't ancient people eat raw meat? If we get truly hungry, who cares if it's raw or cooked?"

I countered, "Only primitives eat raw meat—hairy and drinking blood. You should grit your teeth and hold on a bit longer. If we still can't get out, it won't be too late for you to eat it raw. In fact, it hasn't even been six or seven hours since you ate that meal at the Fish Bone Temple."

Da Jin Ya, looking utterly dejected, said to me, "Master Hu, are we really finished this time? We've tried every trick in the book, up to the heavens and down to the earth, but we still can't get past these damned twenty-something steps. We've hit a streak of terrible luck."

I wanted to comfort the Fatty and Da Jin Ya, but the words caught in my throat. In truth, I was also deeply frustrated and desperately needed someone to say something reassuring. These damned twenty-three steps were going to kill us.

"Twenty-three, twenty-three." I seemed to have seen this number somewhere before. I reached out and touched the crescent-shaped groove on the stone step, feeling like a man struggling alone in the vast ocean who had suddenly grasped a floating piece of wood.

The Fatty was about to discuss how to eat the two geese again. Fearing he would interrupt my thoughts, I made a silencing gesture before he could speak and continued to rack my brain, searching my memory for information.

Once I figured it out, I slapped my thigh, startling both Da Jin Ya and the Fatty. I told them, "Damn it all! We’ve been tricked by these ghostly steps. This isn't some wall-banging maze, nor is it the chaotic border of the Ghost Tomb. This damn thing is a mechanism from a Western Zhou ancient tomb, a bizarre trap designed using I Ching numerology."

Ever since I started in the army, I had been studying the Zhou Yi in conjunction with the fragmented volumes of my family's secret texts: Qi Jue established Taiji, Taiji begot Liangyi (Two Forms), Liangyi yielded Sixiang (Four Images), and Sixiang generated Bagua (Eight Trigrams). Thus, distinguishing the living into East and West positions represents the concept of Liangyi; distinguishing into East Four positions and West Four positions represents the concept of Sixiang; distinguishing into Qian, Kan, Gen, Zhen, Xun, Li, Kun, Dui represents the concept of Bagua. These are all reflections of the great Dao of Heaven and Earth, the natural process of creation.

At that time, I only used this knowledge to pass the monotonous, dull hours in the barracks. Because one of the characters in the Sixteen-Character Yin-Yang Feng Shui Secret Art was "Dun" (Escape), the entire volume dedicated to "Dun" dealt with traps and mechanisms within ancient tombs. Since China has always revered I Ching numerology, the layout of ancient tombs could not be separated from this path. I had studied it in detail, and recalling now, this kind of twenty-three-step staircase should academically be called a "Suspended Soul Staircase" (Xuanhun Ti). The principle behind its design has been lost for a thousand years. Many mathematicians and scientists have been obsessed with it. Some argue it’s a form of digital hypnosis, intentionally leaving behind markings or numerical information to confuse the traveler. Mathematicians, however, believe it is a structurally complex numerical model. Though one sees only a single staircase while inside, it actually leads in all directions. The crescent-shaped mark is a trap; it gradually shifts its position on the steps. Moreover, these steps and the stone walls may have been coated with a paint mixed from ancient secret formulas designed to absorb light, making it even harder to discern direction. Once one pays attention to these clues, it causes a logical error in judgment—believing one is walking in a straight line when in reality, one is unknowingly stepping onto a detour, circling endlessly until one completely loses all sense of direction. The drop between steps is very slight, possibly designed precisely to create the illusion of vertical change.

It is just like the Eight Trigram Formation from the Three Kingdoms period; a few stones could trap people so they couldn't ascend to heaven or descend to earth. At that time, with only eight elements, it was already so complex and mysterious. What's more, during the Western Zhou Dynasty, when the world still possessed sixteen characters, its mystery would have been divine and unpredictable.

This "Suspended Soul Staircase," incredibly complex by modern standards, was fully controlled and mastered by the ruling class during the Western Zhou period—that era when divination and numerology were most prevalent—and was no less confidential than today's top state secrets.

The Suspended Soul Staircase may not always have exactly twenty-three steps, but the steps needed to escape can be deduced from this number. I never imagined that this Western Zhou Ghost Tomb would contain such a formidable trap. If a tomb robber, ignorant of this principle, mistakenly entered these steps, they would undoubtedly be trapped to death. However, this situation precisely plays to my strengths. Today, let's see what Old Hu can do.