Chapter 118: A Door Within a Door

The number of spiders descending was increasing, and while each was only about the size of a basketball, they would inevitably become a problem if this continued. I shouted, "Third Uncle, do you have any of that powder left from last time?"

Ghost-Face Zhang kicked a mimic spider away and looked at me. "There's a little bit left, but certainly not enough to go around."

I turned to look at Mengya. Her legs moved like shooting stars; despite being pregnant, her movements remained sharp and agile, devoid of any hesitation. I sighed, thinking that I was truly a burden in this group. Suddenly, a thought flashed through my mind: "Third Uncle! Check how much powder is left!"

Ghost-Face Zhang frowned, dodging the surrounding spiders with a fluid motion. He reached into the inner pocket of his black leather jacket and pulled out a small pouch.

The moment he produced the pouch, the entire swarm of spiders froze. This lasted for about three seconds until the largest among them let out a shrill "Squeak!" As if following a command, all the spiders collectively retreated two or three meters away from Ghost-Face Zhang, and some of the smaller ones even turned and fled.

Ghost-Face Zhang frowned and spat. "Qiu Tong, what’s your idea?"

I looked at the pouch in his hand; there was barely half a palm's worth left. I sighed to myself, thinking, *Success or failure rests on this one move.*

"Third Uncle, smear some of this powder onto your long blade. That way, you'll just need to hold the sword. Mengya and I can hold the pouch for protection, and we shouldn't have any major problems."

Ghost-Face Zhang shook his head. "My blade is a precious piece of work; the steel is too fine. If I smear it on there, it'll just fall off."

"Oh, Third Uncle, the fuller on your blade is still wet with blood! Won't it just stick to that?"

Ghost-Face Zhang nodded, seeming to agree with my logic. He reached into the pouch and took out some powder. The moment the powder appeared, the spiders recoiled again in terror. Ignoring them, he covered the blood groove with his hand and smeared the powder along the blade. He scanned his surroundings, then swung his blade at the swarm. The spiders erupted into chaos, scrambling over one another, and many slipped and tumbled into the abyss below.

Ghost-Face Zhang looked satisfied. He sealed the pouch and tossed it to me. "Keep an eye on yourselves."

We acknowledged him, clutching the pouch as if it were a lifeline. The mimic spiders nearby dared not approach us while we held it, but they kept twitching their mandibles and staring with their black, glassy eyes—a truly unsettling sight.

***

Ghost-Face Zhang, unburdened, moved with the ease of a fish in water, picking up his pace. We weren't as bold as he was, remaining wary of the hidden killers "silently guarding" our rear.

Before long, the spiral path neared the bottom of the valley. The spiders following us grew fewer and fewer, perhaps deciding that the challenge wasn't worth it, until finally, there were none left at all.

Ghost-Face Zhang reached the valley floor and lit a cigarette, but with a quick glance, he cursed, "Damn it, again?"

I frowned, wondering what on earth he was complaining about. I hadn't provoked him, so why was he cursing? I strolled over to his side. "Third Uncle, the spiders are gone and the noise has stopped. Why do you keep spouting curses? Who offended you?"

He looked at me, frowned, and squeezed my arm. I cried out, experiencing the strength of his grip once again. I cursed him internally—no wonder he didn't have a wife; with that kind of grip, he’d kill someone. I spat, "What is it now? Just speak plainly; stop with the physical abuse."

"Stimulating your brain cells," he said, stepping aside to reveal the path ahead. "It's time for you to make yourself useful again."

I looked over and clicked my tongue. The platform of the spiral path was blocked by a black iron gate. It wasn't very tall, only five or six meters high and ten or twelve meters wide. In the center of the gate was a recessed pattern, appearing to be a blurred hexagram of the I Ching carved into a square, though it was so worn by time that the specific hexagram was no longer recognizable.

"See anything?" Ghost-Face Zhang whispered.

I shook my head and sighed. "If Kaleidoscope were here, it would be easy. I only have a superficial understanding of the I Ching; I’m not as proficient as he is."

Ghost-Face Zhang frowned. "The door behind us is sealed, so we have to open this one to move forward. I don't know the I Ching either, though I know a little about Feng Shui. If you can't figure it out, I'll have to stimulate your brain cells again."

"Ouch!" I gave a bitter laugh. "You're not a brain supplement! If you keep 'stimulating' me, you'll turn me into a nervous wreck. Please, spare me."

"Wait." As I pleaded with Ghost-Face Zhang, Mengya walked slowly toward the gate. "This is a keyhole."

"A keyhole?" Ghost-Face Zhang asked.

"Yes. It must be."

I walked over to inspect it after hearing Mengya. The recess was a square, about two centimeters on each side, with a hexagram at the bottom. The surface was covered in rust, making it very difficult to distinguish.

"Even if there is a key, can it still be used when the hole is this rusted?" I asked, full of doubt.

Mengya smiled at my expression. "What's the difficulty in that? Third Uncle carries a rare blade. While splitting this gate open might be a pipe dream, scraping away the rust shouldn't be a problem, right?"

Hearing this, I slapped my thigh. "Great, I'm off the hook." I looked at Ghost-Face Zhang. "Third Uncle, you've been picking on me for a while; it's time to contribute your precious blade," I said, teasing him.

Ghost-Face Zhang glared at me without a word. He crouched down, pulled a small, cold-glinting dagger from his boot, plucked one of my hairs, and blew it against the blade. The hair was sliced clean in two. He handed it to us.

I looked at him. "You really are a miser—would it kill you to use your long blade?"

"My long blade is never for others to use. Just use this small knife to scrape the rust," Ghost-Face Zhang said coldly, lighting another cigarette. The smoke only deepened the look of sorrow beneath his cold exterior.

I took the dagger and ignored him, walking to the gate to begin scraping carefully. This knife was worthy of Ghost-Face Zhang; the steel was truly extraordinary. It was not only sharp but impeccably finished, smooth and polished as if it had been buffed countless times. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship. With a gentle flick of the blade tip, the rust flaked off, a testament to the countless times the steel had been folded. Its sharpness forced me to be even more meticulous, fearing that any mistake would ruin the pattern of the keyhole, making the gate impossible to open.

Just as I was concentrating on stripping away the rust, Mengya's voice rang out.

"Qiu Tong, Third Uncle. Stop scraping for a moment. We have a situation."