The "Phoenix Gall" was casually tossed by Uncle Ming into the Cloud Lake beneath the Celestial Beam. In a fit of fury, I dragged him down from the stone statue, raising my fist to strike. But before I could, I heard Shirley Yang cry out, "Not good, we're out of time!" She looked up at the crystal vein overhead. Ah Xiang, sitting on the ground, and Fatty, who had hidden behind another stone statue to avoid gunfire, as well as Uncle Ming trapped beneath me, all looked up as well.

The light in the cave changed. The fluorescence that had been emanating from the minerals above suddenly dimmed, and the surroundings plunged into darkness. While it wasn't pitch black, figures standing close by became hazy and indistinct. Seeing their reactions, I knew something significant had happened above. I pinned Uncle Ming down and raised my gaze. From the ice-like crystal vein, countless crystals extended, spreading out at distorted angles, growing downward like crystalline icicles formed by ice-wind. Within these bizarre and strange crystals, a colossal black silhouette drifted and writhed deep within, emitting pulses of sound like muffled thunder that echoed repeatedly off the crystal walls, carrying an ominous resonance. The appearance of the shadow diluted most of the faint fluorescence, causing the cave environment to grow progressively darker.

The oppressive scene, like dark clouds hanging over a city, made the already narrow space of the altar feel even more constrained. Listening to the rumbling from above, that inexplicable sense of panic from the white tunnel surged back into my heart. I couldn't help but wonder aloud, "What in the hell is that thing?"

I thought I was muttering to myself, but Uncle Ming, whom I was still holding down, suddenly interjected, "Brother Hu, this is... this is an evil spirit sealed within the stone. It's coming out. This time, we're truly finished. None of us will survive."

Only then did I recall Uncle Ming's situation. To think he still had the nerve to speak to me ignited a fire in my chest. This old Hong Kong rogue was utterly wicked to the core. I had been discussing the altar with Shirley Yang and Fatty; although the situation was dire, we still had some time to formulate a plan. The killing ritual, while ancient and mysterious, fundamentally involved altering the balance between Yin and Yang at the intersection of the chord and the arc. If no accidents had occurred, we might have found a way to uncover the secret within the remaining hour. It wasn't a predetermined death sentence. Since coming to Tibet, no matter the difficulty, I had never given up trying, because Zhang Yingchuan’s geomantic indications pointed to finding the right path through water, and this western journey was destined to be favorable, as indicated by the divine arts time and again. I had no doubt about this, but the question was how to "encounter water and find the middle way" within this ritual, and what path to life water might offer in this circumstance? I couldn't grasp it immediately.

But I no longer had the chance to grasp the true meaning, all because this Hong Kong rogue had tried to save his own skin by tricking us and snatching the "Phoenix Gall" to hold us hostage, wasting the precious little time we had left. He was absolutely despicable; why keep him around? With that thought, I raised my fist to beat him.

Seeing me move to strike, Uncle Ming began to tremble violently. I am known for my winter-like ruthlessness toward enemies, especially internal traitors, and I remained unmoved. But before my fist could land, Uncle Ming's expression suddenly changed. His face registered utter bewilderment as he looked at me. "Hey... where am I? Brother Hu... what just happened? I have an old condition; sometimes I experience a split personality. I don't remember anything I just did or said. Did I act out just now?"

I snorted coldly, stopping my attack. I couldn't help but feel a grudging admiration for Uncle Ming. The old fox was quick-witted; his ability to feign ignorance was far superior to Fatty's or mine. It was a shame he wasn't in the movies. I couldn't really kill him, and a severe beating wouldn't solve anything, nor did I have the time to bother with him now. I looked up again at the situation above. The black silhouette in the crystal was becoming clearer, trembling slightly. The muffled thunder from the air was now more piercing, truly resembling some demon trapped in stone, struggling to claw its way out.

I ignored Uncle Ming's act of going mad, called Fatty over, and said, "It's up to you, but just teach him a lesson, don't end up killing him... And if he so much as steps near the Phoenix Gall again, don't say a word—just shoot him."

Fatty widened his eyes, sat down hard on Uncle Ming, pinning him beneath him, and began poking his ribs with his finger while cursing, "The lessons of history, the experiences of the past, time and time again tell us that anyone who cuts themselves off from the people ends up on a dead-end road." He poked him once for every curse.

Hearing Uncle Ming let out wails like a ghost due to the combined pain and itching, I finally felt I had vented some anger. If I didn't teach him a lesson, he would surely cause more trouble later. I stopped paying attention to how Fatty was trying to redeem Uncle Ming's mistaken allegiance and quickly ran to Shirley Yang. "Even though we don't know what that 'Great Black Heaven Thunder Mountain' truly is, if that thing above truly breaks free from the crystalline consciousness, it will be far beyond our current ability to handle. However, judging by the activity above, we might have one last sliver of time. I'll go down and find the Phoenix Gall first."

Though I said this, I had only Fatty's description of what lay beneath the vast sea of stone smoke. The terrain below was unimaginably complex, full of multifaceted crystals like mirrors, making it impossible to distinguish front from back or left from right. A single lozenge-sized bead dropped down—the result was predictable. It wouldn't be found in moments, and the chance of finding it again was slim, especially with time running out. But without looking, we had zero chance.

After witnessing the anomaly in the overhead crystal vein, Shirley Yang had immediately rushed back into the heart of Jade Mountain to check the crystal sand conditions, then ran back to the Celestial Beam to help up Ah Xiang, who was crying on the ground. After hearing my words, she immediately stopped me. "It's too late, the time has run out. The crystal bowl is already filled with fine sand, and even if you bring it back, what then? Are you really going to kill Uncle Ming?"

All I wanted was to retrieve the "Phoenix Gall" as quickly as possible. Ignoring Shirley Yang's dissuasion, I insisted on jumping down from the Celestial Beam. Suddenly, an incredible scene unfolded before my eyes, and I quickly urged Shirley Yang, "Look quickly at the stone smoke below! It seems to be changing."

In the hazy, faint fluorescence, the white mist, second only to the crystal dust, was gradually lowering its altitude; it seemed that for every inch the dark silhouette above grew larger, the stone smoke thinned by a layer. We hadn't noticed when this change began, but the cloud layer was now half a meter thinner than before, and it continued to decrease, becoming sparser.

Within this thinning cloud, a semi-circular, dark object surfaced—precisely where the "Phoenix Gall" had fallen—and that object was none other than the pivotal "Phoenix Gall." This was almost unbelievable. Could it be such a coincidence that the very spot Uncle Ming threw it landed on a crystal rock, and the "Phoenix Gall" simply rested there instead of rolling into the depths? I couldn't believe we had such luck, but the fact was laid bare before us, leaving no room for doubt.

I pinched my own leg hard—I wasn't dreaming. Shirley Yang had seen it clearly too. However, at that moment, the cloud layer descended a tiny bit further, and what we saw beneath the clouds made our hearts leap. A withered, blackened arm was holding the "Phoenix Gall" motionless—the half-arm exposed from the cloud had completely lost its moisture, leaving only desiccated skin wrapped around a skeletal frame, the skin a dark purplish hue.

I instinctively reached into my satchel for the Black Donkey Hoof charms, only to remember they had been lost somewhere along the way. But then, more shocking sights began to emerge beneath the cloud mist: in some places, a human head appeared; in others, an arm or a leg jutted out. Without exception, they were naked, withered, and dark purplish, packed so densely it was impossible to count how many there were. The white stone smoke grew thicker toward the bottom, and the rate at which it thinned began to slow down. Shirley Yang and I understood immediately upon seeing this: these dried corpses were the remains of those sacrificed after ancient rites, thrown around Jade Mountain. Over the millennia, the corpses had piled up into a mountain. Furthermore, perhaps due to a special dehydration process or the geographical environment, the dead had not decayed over thousands of years; only now, as the cloud layer thinned, were they gradually revealed. The spot where Fatty, Uncle Ming, and the others fell was closer to the tunnel entrance, but they only saw bizarre, intricate crystals. Clearly, the dried corpses used as offerings had been dumped on the flanks of Jade Mountain.

Seeing the "Phoenix Gall" resting on the hand of a dried corpse positioned higher up filled me with both joy and alarm. I immediately jumped down from the Celestial Beam, intending to step on the corpse mountain to retrieve the bead. Less than a meter below the Celestial Beam, the ground was already piled high with desiccated bodies. Every step I took sank in, causing the suspended corpses below to slide downward. I dared not look at them, my eyes fixed solely on the "Phoenix Gall," afraid it would roll off the peak of the corpse mountain. If it fell into a gap between the corpses, it would be a hundred times harder to find than if it had fallen into the crystalline rock.

Treading on the many corpses exposed above the cloud layer, I grew tense and wasn't paying attention to my footing. I stepped on a dried corpse's skull, and the head actually came off. The skull was dry, hard, and extremely slick. My foot slipped, and I instantly lost my balance, tumbling down and landing squarely on a female corpse.

The two dark eye sockets on the desiccated face of the female corpse looked enormous. I gasped inwardly, cursing my bad luck. I pinned down the haphazardly stacked corpses, trying to get up and reach the "Phoenix Gall," but my eyes were locked on that female corpse—because I suddenly realized this wasn't right; these were not offerings, their skin hadn't been peeled off. I had only been focused on the "Phoenix Gall" earlier, not noticing anything else. This jarring fall made me momentarily distracted, and only now did I notice this detail. Moreover, every single corpse in this mountain pile, regardless of sex or age, shared one common feature—it wasn't just that they were unclothed (clothes probably long since turned to dust)—every single dried corpse had its eyes gouged out.

The thunder overhead intensified, like a series of life-threatening talismans. I knew time was running out. Fortunately, after the crystal sand ran out, the "Great Black Heaven Thunder Mountain" needed time to fully manifest, which bought us a thread of survival. What we needed to do now was race against death.

Seeing the two deep black holes where the female corpse's eyes should have been, although I felt puzzled about the relationship between these countless corpses and the altar; even though I vaguely sensed something was amiss, the thought of quickly climbing over to retrieve the "Phoenix Gall" now completely consumed most of my mind. I didn't have the capacity to dwell on the meaning of these corpses—and I ignored the disgust of crawling over the corpse mountain. All I could think about was the "Phoenix Gall"—this was an extreme emotional state generated under maximum psychological pressure, my actions becoming somewhat uncontrollable.

But the more anxious I became, the harder it was to get up. Whether using my arms or legs, I couldn't exert any force; my limbs were trapped between the tightly packed layers of corpses. I was sweating profusely in my agitation. Perhaps it was related to the shadow overhead; seeing it made me inexplicably nervous. Maybe it truly was some evil spirit residing in the minerals; my mind raced with chaotic thoughts while my limbs were ensnared by the jutting forms of the dried bodies. In my distress, Shirley Yang jumped down from the Celestial Beam and helped me up. I told her, "These corpses are not offerings; their skin wasn't peeled."

Shirley Yang replied, "No, their eyelids were cut, and a pair of human eyes were gouged out to complete the ritual for worshipping the Ghost Cave."

Shirley Yang's statement was like a crucial hint. I immediately glanced down at the corpses again. Sure enough, their eyelids had been cut starting from the brow bone. I instantly woke up to the realization; without needing further explanation, I understood her meaning. The murals depicting the killing ritual flashed through my mind like a movie reel. The first panel, "Skinning," showed a priest pinning down a sacrifice's head and using a sharp instrument to begin execution from the forehead. Because I had previously heard that skinning also started from the head, I had made a premature assumption, and the execution pit was so bloody that looking at it made me want to vomit, so I hastily mistook the action in the mural for peeling off the entire skin. In reality, judging by these corpses piled into a mountain, the action in the mural referred to peeling off the eyelids. With this premise established, the rest of the content unfolded easily. What was required in the humanoid stone trough was the complete extraction of the sacrifice's "eyes." The mural showing the priest carrying a corpse to the altar depicted the body very vaguely; we had mistaken it for a corpse bleeding all over. But now I realized that the indistinct body represented the life force attached to the eyeball, and the sacrificed victim, having had their eyes gouged out, was discarded near the altar after being brutally killed, leading to the astonishing scale we see today over the years.

Sacrificing a pair of eyes assimilated by the Ghost Cave could lift the curse. But since entering through the white tunnel, we had been blindfolded, groping in the darkness, acutely aware of the panic and helplessness of losing sight and falling into endless darkness. Gouging out eyes—wouldn't death be preferable? Besides Shirley Yang, who would willingly give up their eyes? Of course, I couldn't let her do it. At worst, Uncle Ming could atone for his crimes, but Shirley Yang would surely object to that. Still, gouging out eyes was a half-price discount compared to flaying and murder. Thinking this, my spirits lifted somewhat.

These thoughts flashed through my mind, but my body didn't stop moving because of the confusion. I finally neared the "Phoenix Gall" resting in the hand of a dried corpse. But being too hasty, I committed the cardinal sin of "haste makes waste." I made a final leap, trying to snatch the "Phoenix Gall," but the hill of corpses, formed haphazardly by bodies thrown down from the Celestial Beam, had many hollow spaces inside. Applying external force caused a large section on the edge of the corpse mound to collapse like a landslide. I saw the "Phoenix Gall" in the corpse's hand teetering precariously, about to roll off along with several nearby bodies.

I shouted and lunged forward, grabbing the "Phoenix Gall" just as I rolled off the collapsed edge of the corpse mountain along with the unsupported corpses. The drop to the crystal layer below wasn't far; I tumbled about five or six meters before my momentum stopped. Before getting up from the ground, I checked my hand—the "Phoenix Gall" was firmly held. Only then did I breathe a sigh of relief; I had finally gotten it back.

By then, the white stone smoke around me had become extremely thin, the rest scattering like chaotic clouds. The fluorescence of the nearby crystal veins was wan and tragic. The terrain was almost a perfect mirror image of the ceiling above. Since countless fallen corpses littered the ground nearby, the influence of the ice-like crystal surfaces was minimal. I looked up at the ceiling—it was truly heaven and earth inverted, wind and clouds changing drastically. The dark, colossal shadow was twisting and elongating, stretching out completely. It no longer resembled a human shape, but rather a tattered, black wind banner slowly rotating within the crystals. Looking at its form, it was eerily like a massive, black eye socket, churning relentlessly, as if about to drip water onto Jade Mountain.

Shirley Yang stood at the edge of the corpse mountain, desperately calling for Ah Xiang and the others on the Celestial Beam to leave quickly. Fatty pulled Ah Xiang and Uncle Ming down onto the pile of corpses below. They stumbled, shouting as they ran, "We can't stay at the altar, run, comrades!"

I couldn't see clearly what they were seeing, but a chill ran down my spine. Although I had recovered the "Phoenix Gall," we were a step too late; perhaps there was no way back to the altar. An impulse struck me to risk rushing back, but then, what about the eyes? Whose eyes would I use? Uncle Ming's, or my own?

Just then, I heard the sound of water slapping against stone walls. I quickly turned back and saw, not far away within a cluster of crystal veins, a sizable underground water cavern whose water was dyed red with blood. It was the old white-bearded fish we had seen in the wind-eroded lake, the one we fell into the underground lake with. Though this subterranean water network was a complex mesh, I never expected to see it again here.

The old white-bearded fish was stranded by the water's edge, barely alive, death only a matter of time. Its body was covered in wounds from bites and collisions. Its mouth opened and closed, ceaselessly spitting out bloody bubbles. As a gout of fresh blood poured out, it actually spat two bead-like objects from its mouth, which rolled onto the ground.

Although the two beads were stained with blood, I recognized them immediately—they were the eyeballs of the Ghost Mother's "Glacier Crystal Corpse." There could be no better offering. Heaven hadn't completely abandoned us. I immediately got up, intending to retrieve the eyeballs from the ground, but the crystal layer beneath my feet was slicker than ice. I sprawled out again, sliding sideways. The Ghost Mother's two crystal eyeballs were rolling rapidly toward the water, slipping past my gills. Though I was only a step away, I couldn't stand up in time. I reached out from where I lay, but couldn't grasp them, watching helplessly as they rolled toward the water's edge; if they fell in, everything would be lost.

In desperation, I had to take a risk. I quickly pulled out my ice axe and laid it flat on the crystal layer, pushing it toward the front of the rolling eyeballs' path. This maneuver, though reckless, was precise. I managed to block the pair of eyes just before they rolled into the water. My suspense hadn't eased when I saw the two crystal eyes slowly begin to roll up the steeper incline. From a crevice between two crystal mineral deposits across from me, a "Banded Jiao" with black and white stripes squeezed out a cavernous, bloody maw. It stared with greedy, blood-red eyes, sucking in air forcefully, and in the foul stench of the inhaled air, it swallowed the pair of eyes into its belly.