Deep in my core, I desperately warned myself that I must get the "Muchen Pearl" out unless it was an absolute last resort. Fatty and I took turns carrying Shirley Yang as we fled. Suddenly, Fatty lost his footing and tumbled to the ground, as if he’d tripped over something. Thanks to his thick hide, he wasn't seriously hurt. Just as he started to curse and climb back up, I noticed dozens of "Zhongren" crawling down from the dark rock ceiling. They had clearly sensed our presence. Ignoring the fight among their own kind to bite the giant worm, they quietly began to circle us.

All the bullets were gone; we’d tossed the "Chicago Typewriters" along the way. All we had left were Shirley Yang’s mountaineering axe and trenching shovel. Fatty gripped one, and I held onto a small-caliber Type 64 pistol. How could these few items possibly fend off so many Zhongren? I had always heard that a man might drown, but he won't die by fire—it seemed our fate was to be bitten to death by bugs.

It was then that Fatty realized what had tripped him: the bronze chest we called "Pandora's Box." Scattered on the ground were the few local barbarian artifacts we’d taken out earlier: the skull of a mountain goblin, the vase containing the jade fetus, and the exquisitely ornate "Toad Palace."

I remembered that the malevolent toad was a source of trouble. I decided to eliminate it first, then use explosives to distract the Zhongren. I immediately kicked open the lid of the "Toad Palace" and fired the Type 64 five times in rapid succession, blasting the eerie, blue, three-legged toad inside to pieces. As this ancient meteorite, which affected the air density, shattered, the air throughout the entire "Gourd Cave" seemed to tremble along with it.

The Zhongren became inexplicably panicked. They seemed to know the importance of the "Toad Palace" and felt a catastrophe looming. They were extremely sensitive to changes in the air; though they wouldn't drop dead immediately, they grew restless, instantly throwing everything into chaos. Ignoring the three of us, they scattered wildly; some blindly tumbled into the "Corpse Cave."

Fatty said to me, "This is truly a lucky accident; let’s scram while we can." As he spoke, he casually snatched up the jade vase from the ground and tossed it into his torn backpack. Seeing an opening, Fatty and I picked up Shirley Yang and, grabbing the pack, bolted for the exit.

Everywhere on the ground lay the corpses of barbarian women, the breeding ground for the Zhongren ova—layered thick, countless in number. Their faces were contorted, and their sheer quantity was enough to make one vomit. We trod over layer upon layer of female corpses, scrambling toward the gap in the center of the "Gourd Cave," entering single file.

On the other side of the "Gourd Cave" was the fossil forest submerged by groundwater. The water level here was unchanged. We ran to this spot without stopping, carrying a living person between us. This was largely thanks to having consumed half a stalk of Wood Essence in the valley; the solidified ten-thousand-year-old Mù Lù, after all, was no common thing. After eating it, I felt as if I had inexhaustible strength and energy, but even that power was starting to wear thin now.

Fatty and I were both gasping for breath. Shirley Yang was fully conscious and had regained some strength. I quickly changed the area on her leg poisoned by the corpse venom, applying fresh glutinous rice and Mù Lù. The displaced rice had turned dry and pitch-black, like charcoal—it really did seem to draw out the poison, and mixed with the Mù Lù, it appeared almost miraculous.

Taking advantage of the moment to change the dressing and catch our breath, just as we were about to descend into the water, a fire-dragon-like, multi-legged fleshy worm suddenly shot out of the cave entrance behind us. This worm was several times thicker than a large water vat and nearly ten meters long. Fatty and I immediately realized this was the old worm covered in dragon scales and copper armor, which the Zhongren had gnawed in half and which the Wutou flesh coffin had partially absorbed, stripping away its entire copper shell to reveal its naked body. It was surging here, seemingly running for its life as well.

Seeing several pale Zhongren biting at its body, I quickly said to Fatty, "Commander Wang, why don't we catch a ride too? If we keep running like this, we’ll vomit blood from exhaustion!"

Fatty agreed with a sound, already swinging his mountaineering axe and driving it deep into the worm's body. I told Shirley Yang to hold onto me tightly, locked all our carabiners and ascenders together, and followed closely behind Fatty. The moment the giant worm surged past me, I jabbed down fiercely with the trenching shovel and a paratrooper's knife. A massive forward momentum yanked us up.

The "Huo's Undying Worm" roared as it plunged into the water, kicking up countless splashes that startled the giant insects in the fossil forest into fleeing. All I could hear was the rush of wind past my ears; I couldn't see where we were at all. Shirley Yang clung to me tightly from behind, not daring to relax. I silently prayed in my heart, asking the ancestors of the Grave Robbers to protect us, just as I thought we were about to crash into a fossilized tree. Just as the thought crossed my mind, a chill swept over me, and the giant worm sank with our bodies into the water. I started in alarm—my portable oxygen tank was long gone. If this continued, we would have to let go and swim for the surface. I felt Shirley Yang clutch my shoulder; knowing she was weak from the poisoning, she couldn't linger at the bottom for long. I was just about to let go when the giant worm arched its body and shot upward toward the surface. I instantly understood: it needed oxygen more than we did.

I don't know how long it took, but this terrifying, express getaway train finally began to slow down, finally coming to a stop. Because I had destroyed the Toad Palace, this half of the old worm had lost the foundation it relied on for survival. Once it entered the burial tunnels lined with Quanxiang bones on both sides, it could no longer move. When we first entered the valley, our intense attack had forced it to expel the red mist from its interior; it only recovered by the time we retreated. Now, it was utterly exhausted, its net-like nerves stiffening and dying. Though not entirely dead, it wouldn't last much longer; once the Corpse Caves behind it caught up, they would consume it completely.

I carefully lifted Shirley Yang off the back of the "Huo's Undying Worm." Seeing the corpse-aura on her face recede even further, I felt immensely relieved. By this point, we were both utterly spent. Less than three days had passed since we entered the Dragon-Shrouding Mountain, yet it felt longer than three years.

I estimated that while the Wutou flesh coffin behind us was still pursuing relentlessly, we had managed to put some distance between us. Furthermore, the Corpse Cave attached to it was expanding, which should slow its speed. This giant worm in the burial trench could also slow its progress down further. Thus, Fatty and I supported Shirley Yang and climbed back to the hidden passage entrance before the Temple of the Mountain God. We would rest for five minutes to catch our breath, and then we had to keep running.

Fatty rubbed the bruises blooming all over his body and asked me, "Old Hu, how long do we have to run before it ends? My legs feel like they’re filled with lead, and every inch of me aches. If we keep running, we might just leave our lives right here."

I gasped out, "That damn Corpse Cave is probably a kind of putrid energy attached to the flesh coffin, creating a chaotic miasma where the clean and the foul mix. It decays whatever it touches. I think our only chance to deal with it is to lure it all the way to the valley mouth."

The entrance to this "Bug Valley" lay at a point where the terrain rose and fell symmetrically, what geomancers call the place where the Azure Dragon rests its brush—with the Ox galloping on the left and the Elephant dancing on the right, the center shaped like a suspended bell gate. It is a "Qian City Position" that separates the clean from the foul, distinguishes Yin from Yang, and wipes away malicious influences. If the Corpse Cave moves there, the chaotic energy within it should be dissolved. However, I had absolutely no certainty this theory would work; we had no choice but to risk it, as there was no other viable plan.

I briefly outlined my plan to Fatty, picked up my canteen, drank every last drop of the remaining water, and tossed the canteen aside. We needed to travel light now. We still had some explosives left, so I told Fatty to blow up the entrance before the Temple of the Mountain God to buy us as much time as possible. I went into the temple to retrieve some emergency supplies we’d stashed earlier: food, batteries, flashlights, and so on.

After a brief rest of a few minutes, we hurried off. The Temple of the Mountain God wasn't far from the valley mouth, but the forest was dense and difficult, the mountain slopes steep on both sides, the terrain treacherous—truly "a single line dividing heaven to form a chasm, two mountains battling with stone as their gate." The dense vegetation in the valley, combined with the complex waterways and scattered stream stones at the bottom, immediately slowed our pace once we entered.

Our only advantage now was our mastery of the terrain. When we first entered the "Tomb of King Xian" from the outside, everything within was unknown, forcing us to advance cautiously. Now, returning the same way, having mapped out the area, we had far fewer reservations.

The vegetation layer in the Bug Valley could accurately be described as a "green hell." The most maddening thing was the countless poisonous insects breeding within it. Fatty took the lead, while I supported the limping Shirley Yang behind him. Pushing aside vines to find a path, Fatty suddenly stopped and swung his trenching shovel, cleanly severing the head of a brightly patterned snake coiled around a tree. The snake’s body swayed twice and dropped from the branch. Fatty caught it and turned to me, saying, "When we get out, I’ll show you how to roast snake segments on a shovel. I learned this trick back when I was doing manual labor in Inner Mongolia."

I urged him, "What time is it for thinking about snake meat! Hurry up and move! Once we’re out of the valley, you can eat whatever you want to your heart's content!"

Just as we were about to move forward, a large flock of startled birds swept overhead, and in the distance behind us came the sound of trees crashing down. I quickly told Fatty to support Shirley Yang first while I climbed a nearby old tree to look ahead. We weren't far from the valley mouth, but the Wutou flesh coffin was already catching up.

I shouted to Fatty, "Hurry! We’ll be caught in minutes!" I immediately jumped down from the tree, and Fatty and I hoisted Shirley Yang between us, breaking into a run. We rounded two dense red oaks, and the two massive stones painted with eyes at the valley mouth appeared before us. Behind us, the undergrowth thrashed violently; by the sound of it, the Corpse Cave was no more than twenty meters away.

It suddenly struck me that if we rushed straight out of the valley mouth, any failure would leave us defenseless. So, I stopped, told Fatty to carry Shirley Yang on his back, and veered toward the valley slope. The slope at this entrance wasn't as steep as in the deeper parts, but we were utterly exhausted. Our heads throbbed as if countless tiny insects were gnawing inside, and a persistent ringing filled our ears. Barely managing to climb halfway, I pulled out King Xian's head from my carrying pouch. The man's blurred, distorted features were unsettling even in the daylight, and the head seemed to have undergone some change. I had no time to examine it further. I grabbed King Xian's head with the tiger claw, preparing to use centrifugal force to hurl it out of the valley mouth. Whether we could escape the relentless pursuit of the Corpse Cave, whether we could bring this crucial head back—it all depended on this single throw.