Chapter 277: Brother Lu

The stone door was half-buried in the mountain face, its gap so narrow that only one person could squeeze through sideways.

The two lines carved into the door—at first glance, they looked like eyes, but on closer inspection, they resembled a stretched, elongated mouth.

Between the stone patterns, dark red mud was embedded. When the wind blew, a faint, almost imperceptible stench of blood seeped out from behind the door.

Lu Yuan stood at the top of the steps and did not descend immediately.

He held the wooden slip carved with the character "Return" in his hand, his thumb lightly rubbing along its edge.

The character on the slip was engraved very shallowly, as if someone didn't want others to see it, yet felt compelled to leave it behind anyway.

"That's not something that opens doors," Lin Zhaoxuan said, glancing at it, his voice low. "It looks like a marker."

"It's a marker for the Return Name," Lu Yuan said. "That thing earlier said entering the Main Cave requires a Return Name. But it didn't say the Return Name doesn't go back to the person—it goes back to its ledger."

Wang Cheng'an frowned. "What's the difference?"

"Big difference."

"If the Name returns to the person, it means the person still recognizes themselves."

"If the Name returns to its ledger, it means wherever that person goes from now on, they count as its person."

Xu Erxiao felt a knot tighten in his chest:

"So if we go in, aren't we just delivering ourselves to its doorstep?"

"That's why we can't use our real names," Lu Yuan said, tucking the wooden slip into his sleeve. "It wants a Name. We'll give it a fake one."

"Once a fake name enters the ledger, the ledger will fall into chaos."

"And once the ledger is chaotic, the one keeping it will have to show itself."

Zhou Heng looked up at the stone door and couldn't help asking:

"Then what fake name do we use?"

Lu Yuan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pulled a small piece of yellow paper from his pocket.

The paper was left over from last night's burning—its edges charred black, with a few half-burned characters still visible in the center.

He spread the yellow paper on his palm, dipped his cinnabar brush in a bit of blood, and first wrote the character "Lu." Then, beside it, he wrote two extremely strange characters.

Wang Cheng'an leaned in for a look but couldn't recognize them.

"Brother Lu, what's that written there?"

"It's not a name," Lu Yuan said, folding the yellow paper. "It's an empty shell for an Offering Name."

"As long as it looks like a name, the ledger will accept it first."

"As for what happens after it accepts it and finds out it's an empty shell—that depends on who reacts faster."

Song Qinghe clutched her oil lamp and asked softly:

"Won't this draw the evil energy onto you?"

"Yes," Lu Yuan said frankly. "That's why none of you are to call me by my real name."

"From now on, after we enter, no one is allowed to speak my real name."

"Call me Brother Lu."

"No matter what you see, don't shout out recklessly."

"And especially—don't call out the names of family members. Don't call out the names of the dead."

As these words fell, everyone fell silent.

Iron Abacus's corpse was still in the cellar behind them.

That old thing was dead, and there was no way he could come back to life.

But the old roads, old names, and old skins he left behind were still like a dead hand, reaching through the mountain's belly to keep manipulating them.

Lu Yuan turned and looked back the way they came.

The mist on the cliff had already gathered again. The scattered black cloth from earlier had vanished, leaving only a few blackened copper bells hanging on withered branches, swaying gently in the wind.

This time, the bells had a sound.

"Ding."

One chime.

"Ding."

Another chime.

The bell sound was very light, yet it seemed to come from far, far away.

Lu Yuan immediately raised his hand.

"Let's go down."

No one dared delay any longer. They descended the bluestone steps.

The steps were slick with moisture, and fine black moss grew in the cracks between the stones. That black moss wasn't like grass; it looked more like strands of hair swollen with water, creeping up along the stone crevices.

Xu Erxiao was walking at the back and accidentally stepped on a strand. The black moss suddenly tightened, wrapping around the heel of his shoe.

"Brother Lu!"

He barely got the shout out when Lu Yuan turned back and slashed with his blade, cutting through the strand of black moss.

The severed black moss twisted twice on the stone steps, then oozed a layer of grey-white sap. Floating in the sap were several tiny black dots, like undeveloped eyeballs.

Xu Erxiao's face turned pale.

"Is even the grass in this mountain unclean?"

"There's no grass here," Lu Yuan said, wiping the sap off his blade against the salt. "These are all things grown from offerings."

"Some feed on blood, some on names, and some on the shadows of the living."

"You think they're growing out of the ground, but they're actually sprouting from the feeding mouths."

The further down the steps they went, the lower the temperature dropped.

When they reached the thirty-seventh step, the stone door was right in front of them.

There was no wind coming through the crack, but there was a heavy, oppressive breathing—in and out, with long intervals. With each breath, a little bit of dust drifted out from the door crack.

Song Qinghe's oil lamp was buffeted by that breath, its flame almost flattening against the wick.

"There's something inside."

Wang Cheng'an said in a low voice.

"Not just one," Lu Yuan said. "At least three layers."

"The outermost is the shell guarding the cave, the middle is the feeding ground, and the deepest part is the main mouth."

Lin Zhaoxuan took out the soul-reflecting mirror and angled it toward the stone door.

The mirror didn't reflect the stone door. Instead, it showed a grey, hazy mountain belly.

Inside the mountain belly, countless objects were hanging: wooden tablets, bone fragments, copper bells, old clothes, and strings of yellow paper whose characters were already illegible.

They were all suspended in midair, swaying gently with some invisible current of air.

And beneath those objects, a black stone ditch was faintly visible.

Inside the ditch, a viscous black water had pooled.

Floating in the middle of the black water were countless pale, washed-out faces.

"Offerings," Lu Yuan said. "This is the outer cave."

"Someone has hung everything they left behind in their lifetime here."

"Once the objects are left, the Name gains an anchor."

"Once the Name has an anchor, it can be used by it to change skins."

Zhou Heng stared at the old clothes in the mirror, his chest growing tighter and tighter.

"Whose things are all these?"

"Everyone who died in the mountain and wasn't buried properly," Lu Yuan said. "And those who were sent in here."

Wang Cheng'an whipped his head around:

"Sent in?"

Lu Yuan nodded.

"The Malevolent Deity needs offerings. It doesn't just eat livestock."

"Its most important offerings are people."

"But it doesn't devour them all at once."

"First, it pulls their names apart, then separates their shadows, memories, bones, and old belongings."

"This way, the dead aren't completely dead, and the living aren't completely alive."

"They can keep guarding the roads for it forever."

Xu Erxiao gripped his staff tightly:

"Then I'll smash all of this today."

"Don't rush," Lu Yuan said, pressing down on his wrist. "The things in the outer cave are the ledger, not the root."

"Smashing the ledger rashly is the same as alarming the one keeping it."

"We go in first. Find the main mouth."

With that, Lu Yuan pressed the yellow paper he had written on against the stone door.

The moment the yellow paper touched the stone surface, it sank an inch inward.

As if the stone wasn't stone at all, but a layer of cold, damp skin.

The breathing behind the door abruptly stopped.

Silence fell all around, leaving only the sound of the lamp flame burning.

The next moment, a hoarse, aged voice came from within the stone door.

"Return Name."

The voice was extremely faint, like someone speaking through a thick layer of earth.

Wang Cheng'an nearly dropped the cinnabar in his hand.

But Lu Yuan's expression didn't change. He reached out and pressed the yellow paper, saying in a low voice:

"Return Road."

The stone door was silent for a moment.

"Offering Name."

Lu Yuan answered:

"No Master."

Inside the door, there was another pause.

"Who leads?"

Lu Yuan pressed the wooden slip with the character "Return" against the yellow paper.

"Old Lead."

As soon as these two words left his mouth, a faint, scraping sound arose from within the stone door.

Like countless fingers crawling across the stone surface from behind it.

Immediately after, an extremely fine crack extended downward from the top of the door. Where the crack passed, the stone lines seemed to open slightly, like an eyelid.

"The Old Lead is dead," the voice from within the door spoke again. "Who is the New Lead?"

Lu Yuan's eyes turned cold.

So this thing knew Iron Abacus was dead.

"The Old Lead is dead, but the road isn't," he said. "The road isn't broken, so the ledger should change hands."

"The New Lead is outside the door."

"State your name."

Lu Yuan didn't answer.

Instead, he suddenly raised his hand and drove the wooden slip into the stone door.

"Smack!"

The slip embedded itself in the stone, right in the center of that "eye pattern."

"The name isn't on the lips," Lu Yuan said. "It's on the road."

"If you want to recognize it, come out and recognize it yourself."

Inside the door, there was a sudden silence.

Then, in the next moment, the entire stone door shook violently.

Countless thin black threads burst from the stone crevices, surging outward like wet hair.

Those black threads landed on the steps and rapidly formed blurry, face-like characters.

Some faces were young, some were old, and some had no features at all.

As soon as they appeared, they all opened their mouths at once.

"Lu—"

The first character had barely sounded when Lu Yuan's short blade swept across horizontally.

The blade, carrying salt residue, sliced through several of those face-characters.

"Hiss!"

The black threads retracted en masse, leaving several scorch-like marks on the steps.

Lu Yuan turned his head and said coldly:

"Did you all hear that?"

"They'll call out real names first."

"Whoever answers will be recognized by it."

"No matter who calls out to you, don't look back."

Xu Erxiao asked:

"What if it calls out to our family members?"

"Still don't answer."

"What if it calls out to the dead?"

"Especially don't answer."

With that, Lu Yuan stepped over the threshold.

The stone door didn't block him.

But the moment he stepped inside, the oil lamp flames all bent backward, as if blown by the darkness within the door.

Wang Cheng'an, Xu Erxiao, Zhou Heng, and Lin Zhaoxuan followed closely behind.

Song Qinghe was the last to enter. The moment she crossed the stone threshold, a very soft call came from behind her.

"Qinghe."

Her body stiffened.

That voice was a man's voice—gentle, weary, like the way someone had called her name on a snowy night many years ago.

Her eyes instantly turned red.

But the next second, Lu Yuan's hand reached over from beside her and pressed down on her shoulder.

"Don't answer."

Song Qinghe bit her lip hard. Tears swirled in her eyes but she forced them back, refusing to let them fall.

Behind her, the voice called out again.

"Qinghe, turn around and look."

This time, it sounded even more familiar.

Like her father, who had died years ago.

The lamp in her hand flickered violently, the flame nearly extinguishing.

Lu Yuan didn't look at her. He only said:

"That's not your father."

"If your father truly wanted to call you, he wouldn't tell you to turn around."

"He would only call your name."

Hearing this, Song Qinghe finally swallowed that lump in her throat, steadied the oil lamp, and continued forward.

Once past the stone door, the space wasn't a cave. It was a long stone corridor.

On both sides of the corridor, small niches had been carved into the walls.

Each niche held an offering.

There were cloth shoes, a comb, an old tobacco pipe, a wooden bowl, a pair of broken scissors, and some small items whose purpose was already unclear.

In front of each offering stood a small tablet.

The tablets didn't have names written on them. Instead, they bore a person's identity:

"Eldest Son."

"Widow."

"Medicine Boy."

"Outlander."

"Deserter."

"Charcoal Seller."

"Forest Keeper."

"It doesn't record names," Wang Cheng'an said, his teeth clenching. "It records what a person is."

"Recording an identity is more stable than recording a name," Lu Yuan said. "Names can change, but an identity can lock a person down."

"Once a person is defined by it as a certain type, even after death, others will keep calling them that."

"Call them that long enough, and that identity becomes their second skin."

Lin Zhaoxuan suddenly stopped in front of a niche.

Inside that niche was an old abacus.

Two beads were missing from the abacus, and the wooden frame's corners were worn smooth, as if someone had held it in their hands for years.

The small tablet had three characters written on it:

"Account Keeper."

Lin Zhaoxuan's breath caught.

"This is Iron Abacus's thing."

Lu Yuan walked over and stared at the abacus for a moment, but didn't reach out.

"He didn't leave here from this point."

"He was released from here."

Wang Cheng'an didn't understand:

"What's the difference?"

"People who are released all carry a debt with them," Lu Yuan said. "When Iron Abacus left the Main Cave back then, he carried this abacus in his hand and bore his old name on his person."

"Later, he guarded the road for it, collected names for it, and sealed the door for it."

"Maybe he didn't want to guard it from the start."

"But he owed a debt."

Zhou Heng stared at the abacus in the niche and suddenly said:

"He's dead now. Doesn't the debt end?"

Lu Yuan shook his head:

"The person is dead, but the debt isn't."

"The debt will find the next person."

As his words fell, a "clack" sound suddenly came from deep within the stone corridor.

Like an abacus bead being moved.

One bead.

Two beads.

Three beads.

The sound was getting closer and closer.

Everyone turned their heads.

In the darkness, something was slowly approaching.

It had no footsteps—only the sound of abacus beads colliding.

"Brother Lu..." Wang Cheng'an said in a strained whisper. "It couldn't be Iron Abacus..."

"It's not him," Lu Yuan said coldly. "Iron Abacus is dead."

"The dead cannot come back to life."

"This is his debt looking for a new person."

The abacus sound stopped at the end of the stone corridor.

Out of the darkness, a thin, gaunt figure slowly emerged.

The figure wore an old jacket, with an abacus hanging at its waist. Its head was hung very low, its face obscured. It took a step, and the abacus made a sound.

But that jacket was exactly the same old jacket Iron Abacus had worn last night.

Xu Erxiao's face went pale:

"It's wearing Iron Abacus's clothes."

"The clothes aren't the person," Lu Yuan said, raising his blade. "Don't let it borrow skin."

The figure slowly lifted its head.

Its face didn't have Iron Abacus's features. It only had a layer of white, water-bloated skin. A slit was torn down the middle of the white skin, and two abacus beads were embedded in the crack.

It looked at Lu Yuan and slowly opened its mouth:

"The debt... someone must take it on."

Lu Yuan said:

"Will you take it?"

"I won't," the thing said, its voice dry and rasping. "You will take it."

It took the abacus from its waist and held it out toward Lu Yuan.

The beads on the abacus moved on their own, finally arranging themselves into four characters:

"Lu Yuan, take the debt."

Wang Cheng'an sucked in a sharp breath.

Lu Yuan's gaze didn't waver. He reached into his sleeve, took out the yellow paper ash left from last night's burning, and lightly smeared it across the abacus.

"Iron Abacus's debt. Let Iron Abacus carry it himself."

"When the person dies, the debt doesn't end—that's your rule."

"But using a dead man's old skin to make a living man take the debt also breaks your rules."

The white-skinned figure seemed not to understand and kept pushing the abacus forward.

"Take the debt."

More and more voices joined in.

The identity tablets in the niches began to vibrate as well.

"Eldest Son." "Widow." "Medicine Boy." "Outlander." "Forest Keeper."

"Take the debt." "Take the debt." "Take the debt."

Countless voices crowded the stone corridor, like a horde of invisible things whispering around them.

Song Qinghe's oil lamp suddenly dimmed by half.

Lin Zhaoxuan immediately held up the black wooden tablet in front of the lamp, saying in a low voice:

"They're looking for identities."

"As long as someone inwardly acknowledges an identity, the tablet will record the name for them."

Lu Yuan looked at the niches on both sides and suddenly understood.

This wasn't just a corridor of offerings.

This was the "Name-Recognition Corridor."

If anyone who entered was called by one of the identity tablets, if they answered even in their heart, even for a split second, the Main Cave would record them.

And among these tablets, there must be one identity that could shake each of them the most.

Wang Cheng'an suddenly heard a voice coming from a niche on his left.

"Son."

His footsteps faltered.

The voice was old and weary, like his mother's voice.

"Son, come here."

Wang Cheng'an's eyes turned red. He nearly stepped forward.

Lu Yuan grabbed him firmly.

"Don't answer."

On the other side, Xu Erxiao heard a woman's voice.

"Erxiao."

His entire body trembled.

That was his sister's voice.

Zhou Heng heard the sound of a woman crying.

The crying was intermittent, without pause.

Only Song Qinghe didn't hear the voice of a family member.

Instead, she heard someone whispering in her ear:

"You've always been a nameless person."

"No one remembers you."

"Give up your name, and you won't have to be afraid anymore."

Her face slowly turned pale.

Lu Yuan glanced at her and immediately said:

"Qinghe, guard the lamp."

"Don't listen."

Song Qinghe snapped back to her senses. She hugged the oil lamp tightly, and the light stabilized a little.

The white-skinned figure was still standing at the end of the stone corridor, holding the abacus out, repeating endlessly:

"Take the debt."

Lu Yuan suddenly thrust his short blade into the ground.

The blade cut through a crack in the stone, producing a clear ring.

"Since you all love to calculate debts," he looked up at the thing, "let's do some calculating ourselves."

The white-skinned figure didn't move.

Lu Yuan took out a pinch of road ash, sprinkled it on the ground, then used cinnabar to draw a circle in the ash.

"First entry: Iron Abacus's life."

"He guarded your door for years, and in the end, you discarded him like a pawn."

"Second entry: the Offering Names outside the door."

"You used the dead's old skins to lure the living, breaking the Name Rule."

"Third entry: all those people in the mountain whose names were dismantled."

"Their names, shadows, bodies, old belongings—all torn apart to serve as offerings."

"Fourth entry: our entry today."

He raised his blade, pointing it at the white-skinned figure.

"You want to collect our debt."

"Then first, bring out the debt you owe."

The white-skinned figure finally lifted its face.

The white skin split wider. The two abacus beads inside it rolled around.

"Debts... aren't calculated this way."

"Who says they aren't?" Lu Yuan's voice turned icy. "Whoever holds the debt must acknowledge it."

"You use Offering Names as locks, so I'll use Offering Names as blades."

"You use identities to seal people, so I'll make these identity tablets unable to recognize themselves first."

As he spoke, he backhanded a handful of salt into the niches on both sides.

As the salt grains fell, the neatly arranged identity tablets immediately began to tremble chaotically.

Then, Lu Yuan used cinnabar to draw a horizontal line along the ground of the stone corridor, precisely cutting off the invisible yin-route beneath the white-skinned figure's feet.

"Listen up, everyone," he said to the people behind him. "Don't smash the identity tablets."

"Whenever they call out your identity, silently recite one sentence in your heart:"

"'I am not the person it says I am.' 'I don't recognize this debt.'"

Everyone nodded in response.

As soon as they said this, the identity tablets in the niches on both sides simultaneously emitted a harsh, scraping sound.

Like countless mouths being sealed shut.

Finally, Lu Yuan looked at Lin Zhaoxuan.

Lin Zhaoxuan paused, then immediately understood what he was waiting for.

"I am not the Tablet Keeper," he said. "I am merely a fellow traveler."

The black wooden tablet in his hand suddenly shuddered violently.

The blackness at the broken edge seemed to be stabbed by these words, abruptly shrinking into a tiny black nail.

Deep in the stone corridor, the abacus in the white-skinned figure's hand suddenly cracked.

"Crack."

The first crossbeam broke.

"Snap."

The second one broke too.

One by one, the abacus beads fell to the ground, each transforming into tiny white teeth.

The white-skinned figure looked down at those white teeth, showing signs of panic for the first time.

"The debt is in chaos," it muttered.

"The name is in chaos."

"The road is in chaos."

Lu Yuan seized the moment, pulling out his blade. The tip of the blade flicked up one of the white teeth and flicked it in front of the white-skinned figure.

"The chaos is only just beginning."

The white tooth struck the cinnabar line and instantly turned into a wisp of grey smoke.

Within the grey smoke, an extremely thin red line appeared, stretching straight toward the end of the stone corridor.

"I see it!" Lin Zhaoxuan said in a low voice. "That's the Guide Thread to the Main Cave!"

Lu Yuan looked up.

The red line pierced through the white-skinned figure's chest, passed through the black wall at the end of the stone corridor, and extended deeper into the mountain.

That red line was extremely thin, yet it pulsed incessantly.

Like a blood vessel.

At its end came a very slow heartbeat.

"Thump."

All the niches in the stone corridor shook at once.

"Thump."

This time, the sound was closer.

"Thump."

The blurry eye patterns on the wall suddenly opened one by one.

Each eye had no pupil, only a small cluster of dark red fire.

The white-skinned figure abruptly lifted its head. The abacus beads in its mouth all rattled together.

"The Main Mouth has awakened," it said.

"The Main Mouth wants to see you."

Lu Yuan gripped his blade tightly.

He had finally confirmed that the so-called Malevolent Deity's true body was not in the outer cave, not at the entrance, and not in the Eye Fetus at the bottom of the earth.

It was hiding at the end of that red line.

And it already knew they had arrived.

"Let's go," Lu Yuan said.

Wang Cheng'an was stunned:

"Where?"

"Follow the red line."

"That thing is calling us to meet it?"

"It's not calling," Lu Yuan said, staring at the white-skinned figure. "It's that it can no longer hide."

"We've stirred up all its outer shells, old leads, fake names, and identity ledger."

"If it doesn't reveal the Main Mouth, the entire offering ground will fall into chaos first."

Xu Erxiao looked at the black wall ahead:

"But how do we get through this wall?"

Lu Yuan walked up to the black wall and pressed his hand against it.

The wall was icy cold, but there was a very faint pulsation from within.

"There's a cave behind the wall," he said. "But this isn't a door."

"It's skin."

"Skin again?" Zhou Heng's scalp crawled.

"The Malevolent Deity's things love to cover their mouths with skin," Lu Yuan said. "It's afraid of people seeing its true form."

"The more it uses skin, the more it means the thing inside doesn't want to be recognized."

He had everyone step back to both sides. Then he placed the black wooden tablet, the soul-reflecting mirror, and the wooden slip engraved with "Return" on the ground, arranging them in a triangle.

After that, he took out the road ash left by Iron Abacus and lightly sprinkled it along the red line.

As the dust settled on the ground, the red line immediately became visible.

It passed through the white-skinned figure's chest, stretched toward the black wall, and finally tied a knot in the middle of the wall.

The shape of the knot resembled a closed eye.

Lu Yuan raised his blade, aiming at the center of the knot.

"Cinnabar."

"Salt."

"Pick up that abacus."

"Point the soul-reflecting mirror at the red line."

"Give me the lamp."

Everyone followed his orders.

Song Qinghe handed the oil lamp over. Lu Yuan took it and held it up to the black wall.

The lamp light fell on the wall's surface, and the black wall began to undulate slightly.

Like a layer of wet skin plastered over the cave opening.

Zhou Heng handed over the cracked abacus. Lu Yuan didn't take it. He only said:

"Smash the wall."

Zhou Heng was taken aback:

"Use this?"

"Use this."

"Isn't this Iron Abacus's thing?"

"Whatever belonged to Iron Abacus should be used to smash its door," Lu Yuan said. "He calculated its debts for a lifetime. Even in death, it shouldn't be allowed to use his abacus to collect people."

Zhou Heng's eyes hardened. He swung the abacus and smashed it hard against the place where the red line tied its knot.

"Boom!"

The black wall caved in a little.

A low, muffled sound came from behind the wall, like something had been struck and felt pain.

Zhou Heng didn't stop. The second and third blows came down in succession.

With each strike, the eye patterns on the wall simultaneously contracted.

Wang Cheng'an and Xu Erxiao took the opportunity to sprinkle salt and cinnabar on the dented area. The red and white colors interwove, forcing the layer of black skin to continuously emit smoke.

Lin Zhaoxuan angled the soul-reflecting mirror toward the red line. The mirror immediately revealed a vast, profound darkness behind the wall.

In the center of that darkness stood a stone platform.

Something was standing on the stone platform.

That thing was draped in layers of black cloth. It looked like a person, but it was much taller.

It had no head. Above its shoulders was a blurry shadow, and suspended within that shadow were dozens of closed eyes.

Around the stone platform were seven clay jars.

Each clay jar was pasted with yellow paper.

Written on the yellow paper were Offering Names.

"I can see it," Lin Zhaoxuan said, his voice heavy. "The Main Cave is behind the wall."

"What's on the stone platform?"

"Can't see clearly."

"Then smash the wall open."

Zhou Heng raised the abacus and struck again.

This time, the black wall finally split open.

The crack didn't contain stone debris. Instead, a vast amount of thick black water gushed out through the wall's crevices.

Countless tiny voices were mixed within the black water.

Someone was crying. Someone was shouting. Someone was murmuring their own name over and over.

And an aged, hoarse voice, separated by the black water, was counting again and again:

"One." "Two." "Three." "Four."

Like someone taking inventory of offerings.

Lu Yuan stared at those seven clay jars and suddenly said:

"It's not seven."

"It's eight."

"There's one more hidden under the stone platform."

Lin Zhaoxuan was startled:

"How do you know?"

"When that deepest face looked at me just now, a glint of white light flashed through its black hole," Lu Yuan said in a low voice.

"That wasn't an eye. It was the mouth of a jar."

"They take people's eyes, names, and shadows, and finally load them all into jars."

"Seven jars supply the outer cave. The last jar supplies the main body itself."

"That's the true main offering."

The black water surged faster and faster.

The crack in the stone wall was forced wider and wider. The layer of "skin" inside was beginning to turn outward.

A low voice came from behind the door.

"Lu Yuan."

This time, it called out clearly.

Everyone heard it.

Lu Yuan's expression didn't change. He only pushed the oil lamp forward.

"Call me Brother Lu," he said.

The voice behind the door stopped.

Then, all those dozens of closed eyes opened at once.

In the darkness, a sheet of grey-white light suddenly spread out.

"Brother Lu," the voice spoke again.

"You've finally come."

Lu Yuan stared at that grey-white light and slowly drew his short blade.

"I didn't come to see you."

"I came to settle accounts with you."

The black wall crashed open with a thunderous sound.

An icy, almost solid aura burst from within, blowing the oil lamp's flame nearly horizontal.

Wang Cheng'an, Xu Erxiao, and Zhou Heng all stepped back together. Only Lu Yuan stood at the very front, his blade tip pointing at the ground, the salt line at his feet not retreating half an inch.

Behind the black wall, the stone platform was finally fully exposed.

The tall thing draped in black cloth was standing on the stone platform.

It had no head.

In the shadow above its shoulders, dozens of eyes slowly rotated, all finally fixing on Lu Yuan.

Below the stone platform, eight clay jars were arranged in a row.

Seven were pasted with old yellow paper.

But the very last jar had no paper.

Above its mouth hung a black thread.

The other end of that thread was connected to the wooden slip engraved with "Return" in Lu Yuan's hand.

Lu Yuan lowered his head and looked at the wooden slip. His eyes finally turned ice-cold.

"When did it connect?"

Wang Cheng'an asked in shock.

"From the moment we passed through the stone door," Lu Yuan said. "It wasn't trying to recognize our names."

"It was trying to bind me to the main offering from the very start."

On the stone platform, the headless shadow raised a hand.

That hand had no fingernails, only five long, thin black bones.

It gave a slight tug.

The wooden slip in Lu Yuan's sleeve instantly grew hot. The black thread tightened sharply, as if trying to pull something out of his flesh and blood.

Lu Yuan grunted, blood from his palm dripping down the edge of the wooden slip.

"Brother Lu!" Song Qinghe cried out in alarm.

"Don't come closer!" Lu Yuan shouted sternly. "It's looking for my name!"

He raised his hand and actually used his short blade to cut the black thread directly.

The blade sliced through, but the black thread didn't break. Instead, it coiled around the blade like a live snake, crawling up the handle toward his wrist.

Lu Yuan reversed his hand and thrust the blade into the ground. The blade carried salt ash and cinnabar with it, and the black thread was pinned at the boundary of red and white. It immediately emitted a wisp of black smoke.

But the headless shadow on the stone platform curled its fingers again.

That jar without paper suddenly made a soft sound.

"Crack."

The mouth of the jar split open a crack.

Inside the crack, a grey-white eye was visible.

That eye had no eyelid and was staring fixedly at Lu Yuan.

And at the same time, the wooden slip engraved with "Return" in Lu Yuan's palm also split apart.

On the back of the wooden slip, a line of new characters slowly emerged.

It wasn't "Return."

It was two blood-red characters.

"Return Name."

The headless shadow on the stone platform finally spoke.

"Give me back your name."

Lu Yuan stared at the eye inside that clay jar and suddenly let out a faint smile.

That smile was very cold.

"You're wrong," he said.

"My name was never given to you."

He abruptly pulled out his blade. The blade, carrying cinnabar, salt ash, and his own blood, slashed straight toward that jar without paper.

On the stone platform, all dozens of eyes widened at once.

In the darkness, the Main Mouth of the Malevolent Deity let out its first true roar of rage.

And that jar, just before the blade fell, slowly opened its mouth.

From inside, a very familiar voice came out.

"Brother Lu."