The staircase plunged endlessly downward, twisting and turning as though it had no end. The steps were slick beneath our boots, water squeaking underfoot with every move, each sound tightening the knot in my gut.

  The whole descent felt like crawling straight into the belly of some cold-blooded serpent, sliding down its guts whether we liked it or not.

  The three of us held lumps of glow-stone that shone faintly in the dark, inching our way down by their dim, sickly yellow light.

  I had no idea how many flights we had descended. One after another, endlessly. Water seeped from the stone walls, dripping in neat, rhythmic notes—ding, dong, ding—as if the darkness itself was tolling a funeral bell for us.

  I pressed a hand to my chest, mind still tangled around the “Gravekeeper.” My nose prickled again.

  But I had no time to grieve. None of us did. We walked in silence, breath growing heavier, the air thick and stale, our ears humming from the pressure.

  Only after what felt like an incense stick’s time did we finally glimpse the last step.

  I had just begun to breathe easier when—

  “Moooooo—”

  A low, deep bellow blasted right beside my ear.

  I jolted so hard I almost slipped down the last few steps. “Oh come on! A cow? Underground? They’re raising livestock down here now!?”

  “No way. No way that’s another monster, right? Don’t tell me that four-legged abomination Fangmei is back!?”

  Hua had already drawn in a breath of inner strength. His folding fan snapped open, though his face still carried that maddening, slick playfulness. “Dear Gong, what’s with all the chatter? Getting nervous, are we?”

  I choked on air. Before I could retort, he added leisurely, “If you’re scared, you can always take shelter in our sect master’s arms. Guaranteed softer than that chunk of jade you’re hugging.”

  “Shut up!” I spat, face burning, wishing the earth would mercifully swallow me.

  “Quiet,” Lian said, voice low.

  I shrank my neck at once.

  Ahem. If not for my excellent upbringing and respect for elders, I would have tackled Hua on the spot.

  Lian lifted a hand and pointed forward. “Look.”

  Hua and I followed his gaze—and the space before us widened suddenly, a cavern opening like a mouth.

  At the bottom of the staircase lay an enormous underground lake.

  The surface stretched far into the cavern’s depths, smooth as a sheet of black glass, so dark and still you couldn’t tell where the water ended.

  And strangely, the cavern wasn’t entirely dark. Tiny floating specks of light drifted in the air like fireflies, blinking lazily, weaving through the gloom. Their glow shimmered on the water, making it ripple with streaks of silver like a drowned river of stars.

  Beautiful, yes—but beauty down here only made my skin crawl. This wasn’t a meadow or forest. How were these bugs even alive?

  “…This place just gets stranger by the minute,” I muttered.

  The water was impossibly deep, its surface shifting as though something might rise at any moment, flick out a tongue, and drag someone under.

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  Lian pointed to a large rock by the shore. “Look there. Carefully.”

  I squinted.

  My stomach dropped.

  Several dark shapes crouched beside the boulder, rising and falling as they pounded it with dull, drumming thuds.

  At first I honestly thought a bunch of giant turtles were taking turns head-butting the rock. Which made no sense, but nothing in this place made sense.

  Then I looked closer.

  Their shells were turtle-like, sure—but the heads protruding from under them were not turtle heads. They were long, narrow, and sharply beaked like birds’. Those beaks hammered against the stone with nasty, heavy thunks.

  And their tails—

  Not stubby turtle tails at all, but long, sinuous serpent tails, gray-green and shifting across the ground.

  I nearly dropped my glow-stone. “What… what on earth is THAT!?”

  Lian’s brows knitted together. His voice turned grim. “Xuan-Gui.”

  “Xuan-what?” I thought my hearing had betrayed me.

  He continued, tone clinical, “Ancient texts mention them. Xuan-Gui—beast with a bird’s head, serpent’s tail, and a shell over its back. They dwell in damp, shadowed places. Feed on rotting bone.”

  I stumbled back two steps on instinct.

  A bird-head-snake-tail turtle thing? Who designed that—Nüwa drunk at the potter’s wheel?

  “And I’m guessing… they’re not vegetarians,” I muttered under my breath.

  No sooner had the words left my mouth than the cavern answered me.

  Another “Moooo—” rolled out from the depths, low and far-reaching, rattling the stone walls until they hummed.

  I flinched so hard my neck shrank into my shoulders and immediately scooted closer to Lian.

  Hua couldn’t hold back a laugh. He snapped his fan shut with a crisp “pa,” tapped the back of my head lightly, and drawled, “The more scared you are, the more you babble. Keep yelling and those turtles won’t bother pounding rocks anymore—they’ll come nibble your backside instead.”

  “Go away!” I shouted, though fear churned harder in my chest.

  And just my luck—the Xuan-Gui must have heard my voice. Their bird heads lifted in eerie unison, beaks gleaming coldly, their eyes lighting up with a ghostly shimmer.

  One by one, they slowly turned toward us.

  The air froze solid.

  I steeled myself, throat dry. “Well, damn. That’s not good—”

  Even so, my hands moved on instinct. I grabbed the chunk of broken wood Hua had tossed me earlier and held it across my chest. A sharp “crack!” sounded—one of those beaks clamped down and snapped the wood clean in half, nearly taking my fingers along with it.

  I yanked my hand back and yelled, “What is this thing supposed to be, a turtle or a vulture? How does a beak bite that hard!?”

  Hua flicked his fan at another one, forcing it back, voice dripping with mockery. “Keep running your mouth and the next bite will take your head.”

  Lian didn’t say a word. His eyes glinted coldly as he whipped out hidden weapons from his sleeve. They clinked off the shells and stone, driving two Xuan-Gui backward in a clatter.

  But no matter how far they retreated, their eyes never left me.

  Their bulging pupils gleamed like bronze bells as they crept our way—slow but unbearably oppressive.

  I pressed the purple jade tighter against my chest, terrified it might slip out. But the moment I did—

  Those bird-headed, snake-tailed, turtle-armored freaks came even closer.

  Their shells scraped the ground with grating “grrrk—grrk” noises, all their eyes locked with obsessive intensity on the spot where I’d tucked the jade.

  “My goodness don’t tell me they’re into me,” I muttered.

  Hua snapped his fan back in front of him, steel hidden under silk, and barked, “Gaudy little beasts. How dare you get fresh?”

  Lian, meanwhile, didn’t rush to strike. He only shot me a sharp look and murmured, “It’s the jade. They’re drawn to it.”

  My stomach dropped. So they weren’t after me—they were after my cargo. Had I known, I’d have slipped it into Hua’s sleeve the moment we set foot underground.

  Before I could complain, the nearest Xuan-Gui lunged. Its beak, sharp as a blade, stabbed straight for my shoulder.

  I yelped and rolled sideways, nearly pitching myself into the yawning black lake.

  Behind me came a resounding “THUNK!”—its beak hit the stone and threw sparks, carving out a neat pit like it was nothing.

  My hand twitched toward my chest. Maybe I should just throw the jade—

  But before I could pull it out, the cow-call boomed again.

  “Moooo—!”

  It rattled the stonework, and the water rippled violently.

  “There isn’t seriously a cow down here, right!?” My brain was already fried.

  Then the water exploded upward.

  A creature surged out of the lake—bull’s head, long horns, wings slick with dripping feathers, a sweeping fish tail trailing behind it, scales flashing like cold fire.

  The moment it appeared, it let out another low, rumbling bellow, but the sound carried a deadened echo—like something calling from deep inside the underworld.

  My scalp prickled so hard it nearly fled my head. My knees buckled. “Great. A bull-head now. What’s next, a horse-face demon to complete the set!?”

  Hua raised a brow, though his expression turned grave. “Lu.”

  He spoke the name like something pulled from a forbidden text.

  Lian narrowed his eyes. “A creature between life and death… why would one appear here?”

  The beast’s lantern-bright eyes fixed on us, burning cold. Its bellow rolled again, shaking the entire cavern as though it meant to bring the tomb crashing down on our heads.