Zhang Yuanqing felt a little relieved in his heart.
In fact, once the shrine had been explored and the zombies eliminated, the entrance to the cave would open automatically. However, before that, an elder from the construction team had already taken away the Artifact—the Great Magical Staff of Defeating Demons.
If he couldn't notice this detail and return the staff, he might be stuck at this step forever.
Zhang Yuanqing waited patiently, quietly tensing his nerves and gathering his energy, never letting himself become distracted—because there was a strong possibility that the cave's depths held the very root cause of the shrine’s decline.
After a while, seeing no signs of unusual activity at the collapsed entrance, he summoned again the Divine Object—the Red Dance Shoes, activating its second form to replace his running shoes and wrap around both feet.
Then he stepped toward the dark, profound cave, leaping lightly.
Crack—it quickly touched the ground. The Red Dance Shoes absorbed the force of descent and cushioned his landing.
Among the scattered stones, Zhang Yuanqing found the Great Magical Staff of Defeating Demons and bent down to pick it up, regaining full command over this powerful Prop.
With both the Red Dance Shoes and the Great Magical Staff in hand, he felt confident enough to face any danger within the cave.
Candlelight filtered from above, illuminating only a limited area. Ahead lay a dark, silent passage—full of unknown fears.
In such an environment, walking without lighting was utterly unwise.
Zhang Yuanqing pondered for a moment and turned his gaze toward the props in hand.
The item description stated that this Prop embodied the power of the Sun God; by offering blood as a sacrifice, one could obtain divine strength.
Shouldn’t the authentic power of the Sun God drive away darkness and bring forth light?
It was worth trying—even though the “note” under its attributes made him slightly uneasy. Zhang Yuanqing silently exhaled, pressing the sharp three-point tip into his thigh.
Sharp pain surged, blood gushed out—not flowing down his pants but forming distinct streams that poured into the yellow bronze Prop.
A warm surge of energy radiated from within the staff, rising up through his arms and filling his body. His pupils lit with a soft golden glow, transforming into brilliant golden eyes.
The staff did not dispel darkness, yet it granted him the ability to see clearly through it.
At the same time, all negative conditions—dizziness, shortness of breath, chest pain—vanished completely, leaving only a sense of weakness due to blood loss.
His body’s corpse toxins were now cleared.
Indeed, he was paying his life for strength—but this was still acceptable. He focused his vision forward and saw ahead: a broad passage stretched into the dark depths.
On either side of the passage, human-made grooves indicated that it had been deliberately excavated—not naturally formed.
Zhang Yuanqing walked steadily through the passage, the quiet space echoing with the sound of his footsteps.
After about ten seconds, plant roots began to emerge from the walls—thick and dense, cascading over the surfaces.
"Help! Help!"
Suddenly, a distressing cry arose deep in the darkness—a plaintive, sorrowful plea.
Following the sound, he walked further. Suddenly, the scene opened up: before him stood an immense stone cavern. At its very center rose a thick tree trunk that pierced through the ceiling and grew into the open sky.
At the base of this trunk, roots intertwined and entangled with a stone coffin.
Even more alarming—the trunk revealed multiple pale arms extending outward, faces emerging as well—faceless figures uttering helpless cries of "Help!"
The arms moved wildly, grasping and pulling as if seeking salvation.
My claustrophobia is activated… The candlelight and the staff provided Zhang Yuanqing with courage. He felt only a mild tingling sensation in his scalp—not overwhelmed by fear.
Then a hoarse, weathered voice emerged:
"Many years have passed—this has been the first time a living being has arrived here."
As soon as these words were spoken, the cries ceased. The grass-like arms gradually withdrew into the trunk, and those faces fled into the tree itself in shock.
"Who?"
Zhang Yuanqing jumped startled, scanning left and right with alertness.
"I? I am only a tree…"
A face surfaced on the trunk—unlike the ghostly faces—it was made of bark, symbolizing the very essence of the tree itself.
Was it the old Fong Shu Tree in the courtyard that had now become a spirit? Zhang Yuanqing hadn’t expected to find such a communicative being at this eerie site—even if it was merely a tree.
He hesitated before approaching and asked cautiously:
"Did you kill the temple disciples?"
"Not me—she did."
The tree spirit’s gaze lowered, as though gazing down upon the stone coffin beneath—even though she could not see it directly.
"Who is she?"
"She is the Lady of San Dao Mountain."
Zhang Yuanqing felt like he had been struck by a sudden blow—the mind went blank.
The stone coffin lay within—where once stood the powerful Night Wandering Deity, expected to have achieved immortality since the early Ming Dynasty?
Was it the Lady of San Dao Mountain who had killed these temple disciples?
Zhang Yuanqing asked aloud: "Why would she do that?"
"Because the Latter Period (the age of decline) has arrived—many practitioners now struggle to break through their developmental barriers. To achieve longevity, the Lady of San Dao Mountain descended into the realm of demons, sealing herself within this stone coffin, using the Fong Shu Tree to imprison and nourish souls—keeping her own body and spirit unbroken. She is a powerful Night Wandering Deity—and by nature, Night Wandering Deities are capable of absorbing spirits to grow stronger."
The face on the trunk sighed: "The tree has absorbed so many souls—their wills gradually formed within it, giving rise to my consciousness. Over the years, people have repeatedly stumbled upon this place and died here—each eventually becoming her nourishment. I carry the resentment and unfulfilled desires of these spirits, always waiting for someone to come and end her."
Ah—that’s exactly what counts as triggering an NPC task! Zhang Yuanqing's eyes flashed with recognition.
"What should I do?"
"Open the stone coffin, and use your weapon to pierce her heart. That will conclude everything. Hm—the Great Magical Staff holds half of her Yang Essence sealed within it. When you strike her heart, that remaining Yang Essence can be transferred into the staff. Without the Yang Essence protecting her body, she will die instantly."
The tree spirit spoke slowly and gently:
"You will then be able to leave here."
Zhang Yuanqing remained still—silent.
The tree spirit continued softly: "Young man, what are you hesitating for?"
Suddenly, Zhang Yuanqing said:
"I have one question…"
The tree spirit responded warmly: "What is it?"
Standing at a distance, Zhang Yuanqing gazed steadily at the face on the trunk and spoke each word clearly:
"Are you not the temple priest?"
Silence fell abruptly in the cave. After several seconds, the tree spirit replied with a measured tone:
"The temple priest was the first person influenced by the Lady of San Dao Mountain—she transformed him into a puppet, eventually becoming one of her own nourishments. Should you doubt me, come and open the stone coffin—you will then know I am telling the truth."
"Then help me open it."
"I cannot—I am only a tree."
"Is it that I cannot open it—or that I dare not?"
Zhang Yuanqing seemed to have found his answer, lifting one corner of his mouth:
"The coffin holds the temple priest—while you are his guardian—or perhaps even his spirit?"
With these questions, he entered a state of alertness, awaiting the tree spirit’s response.
As a tech-savvy gamer specialized in role-playing games, after enduring so many crises, if he still failed to uncover the shrine's hidden secrets, then truly—he would have failed.
Firstly—the Lady of San Dao Mountain achieved immortality at the beginning of the Ming Dynasty. The official temple was only constructed by local authorities afterward. Thus, there was a gap of at least fifty to sixty years—roughly two generations between her passing and the establishment of the temple.
Secondly—the main hall's information indicates that the Lady of San Dao Mountain is a virtuous figure. However, the claim that she had fallen into the realm of demons is merely one-sided—as described by the Fong Shu Tree spirit. Zhang Yuanqing preferred to believe in the former.
Finally—and most importantly—there was a note in the accompanying script: "Do not trust your master!"
Indeed, who the real enemy truly was, was already subtly indicated throughout these details within the Spirit Realm.
It only remained for Zhang Yuanqing to understand why the temple priest had killed her disciples.
Now he did.
If instead of the Lady of San Dao Mountain—were it the temple priest who sought immortality and fell into the realm of demons—then every doubt would be fully explained.
The cave grew silent once again. The tree spirit sighed: "Your vigilance is too strong—you have been entirely sincere to me from beginning to end, with no intention to harm me."
"Is it that you won’t harm me—or that you cannot?" Zhang Yuanqing slowly retreated a few steps and said:
"Yes—let me guess—the way you kill people is by twisting their necks—but your method likely involves illusion or mental manipulation. You attempted to eliminate me not long ago, though I didn’t turn around."
This time, the tree spirit's face changed dramatically.
Seeing this, Zhang Yuanqing knew his deduction was entirely correct.
The records in the documentation for Taiyi Gate clearly mentioned two key points: first—the Fong Shu Tree is dangerous; second—never look back.
Therefore, it made sense that Zhang Yuanqing had gained nothing from exploring the ancient well—he hadn’t found anything wrong with the well itself. The issue was solely with the tree.
Moreover, he could accurately identify the phenomenon as an illusion because the ghost called out his name—Zhang Yuanqing—not Yuan Shi Tian Zun.
Finally, when Zhang Yuanqing discovered the well, a famous horror film from a certain island nation came to mind—a psychological discomfort that had formed in his imagination, making him reluctant to peer into the depths of the well.
When the white-robed ghost emerged from the well—hair disheveled, formless without any facial features—it matched exactly with the image he held in his memory.
"You have been pretending to engage in polite conversation with me," Zhang Yuanqing stated calmly, revealing the truth: "because your illusions no longer affect me—the presence of the Great Magical Staff from the Lady of San Dao Mountain has granted me immunity. You deceived me to bring me here—using other means—since illusions are ineffective against me. Then it must be a physical attack?"
He glanced at the thick roots growing over the cave walls and suddenly drove the staff downward.
…