Chapter Eighteen: Bewilderment

Xiuming did not deliberately hold a grudge against Gao Yi; rather, in such circumstances, it is a biological instinct to consume anything edible. He had a rough suspicion—Gao Yi must have eaten, but so had another person present. Yet why did Cui Kaixuan previously say that some things must not be spoken aloud? The female ghost had been here for countless years, surely familiar with the place, and had no need to overhear the house’s secrets from them.

So, what exactly did Cui Kaixuan mean? Last time, there were two Cui Kaixuans, one certainly a trick of the female ghost. If she could fabricate a false Cui Kaixuan, could she also conjure other false identities? What was her purpose?

Both Cui Kaixuan and the female ghost seemed to have their own motives… Who was Cui Kaixuan, truly? Yet, up to now, Cui Kaixuan had only offered warnings and was not only harmless, but beneficial to him.

“All right, we need to keep working and not wait for death. Cui Kaixuan, how’s the key coming?” Gao Yi asked.

“Just a little longer, about twenty minutes and we can try. Should I go with Xiuming again?”

Gao Yi considered. “Yes, you and Xiuming should go. Xiuming, I’ll trouble you once more.”

Xiuming nodded. “As long as Cui Kaixuan doesn’t mind.”

Cui Kaixuan frowned, “Guo Zhengxiang should rest for a bit.”

So, everyone retired to their rooms, and twenty minutes later prepared to depart.

Gao Yi had barely rested when he stepped outside to a corner to relieve himself.

His urine was diminishing. He licked his dry lips and fastened his trousers.

Thud! Suddenly, a sharp pain struck his head; he knew he’d been ambushed.

A warm stream trickled down his neck from the back of his head. Gao Yi was enraged—it had to be Guo Zhengxiang, come for revenge, intending to kill him?

Gao Yi tried to rise, but another blow landed on his head!

His mind grew dizzy.

From the darkness, he saw a shadow draw a knife and lunge at him.

It’s over! Gao Yi thought in despair.

Just as the knife was about to pierce him, the assailant seemed struck by something and nervously looked around.

A sound like scraping glass rang out: “Do not kill him!”

The female ghost—it was her, she was saving him?! Gao Yi was stunned.

The assailant had heard the ghost too and fled in terror.

Gao Yi clutched his head when a familiar voice spoke behind him: “Come to my room…”

He recognized the voice.

“Hm?” Gao Yi turned, finding only darkness.

He rubbed the back of his head and walked toward that person’s room.

“What are you doing?” Gao Yi asked.

“I’m sorting things out.”

“Hm, is something the matter?”

“No…”

“??” Gao Yi was baffled and prepared to leave to tend his wound.

“Wait, Gao Yi…”

…

Twenty minutes later, everyone gathered.

“Gao Yi, what happened to your head?” Cui Kaixuan asked.

Gao Yi scanned the room, “I slipped and fell.”

He observed Guo Zhengxiang, whose expression was perfectly calm. Gao Yi thought: Could it really not be him? If it was, he would know the ghost was helping him and wouldn’t look so indifferent.

They split into two groups—some to study documents, while Cui Kaixuan and Xiuming went to open doors.

“Cui Kaixuan, you look exhausted.”

“It’s nothing… I know my own limits.”

Xiuming watched Cui Kaixuan, who seemed very tired—was making a key really so taxing?

Suddenly, the torch in Cui Kaixuan’s hand fell, and he froze.

Xiuming crouched, picked it up, and patted Cui Kaixuan’s back. “Not feeling well?”

Cui Kaixuan’s eyes were unfocused, staring blankly ahead. His lower lip quivered.

Only when Xiuming patted his back did his whole body shudder, his gaze regained focus, and he turned to Xiuming. “Xiuming?”

“Are you all right? Maybe you’re too tired?” Xiuming felt Cui Kaixuan was growing stranger; his face looked worse than before.

“No, I’m fine. I’ll go open the door.” Cui Kaixuan wiped his face, steadying himself.

Absence seizure? Xiuming wondered as Cui Kaixuan worked at the lock.

“Done.” With a click, Cui Kaixuan’s rigid face finally broke into a faint smile.

The room was L208, as Xiuming recalled, once belonging to a priest named Gabi.

From memory, none of these people had supernatural abilities—no black magic. Their expertise lay in society, humanities, and natural science.

How did they use such skills to create this place?

…

Guo Zhengxiang stared at the book, but the words barely registered. The scene of Gao Yi beating him hours before was vivid in his mind. More humiliating was Tao Tao’s presence; powerless, he felt his dignity trampled.

Yet, the others had united, determined to resist Gao Yi’s tyranny.

“The black moon forever shines upon the devil’s castle; you cannot find the sun’s radiance here, perhaps the sun does not exist in this place.”

“Human flesh is their food; human cries their melody… I led knights in pursuit of these evil creatures into the castle’s depths. We unwittingly set foot on this land, and a strange feeling surged within me.” Gao Yi read silently.

…

“I finally understand the devils, I comprehend their deeds.”

“The passage was severed. It seems only I discovered a secret beyond imagination, chosen by heaven. This secret is the truth! It transcends all faith, even my own Mia religion! I must pursue it; the secret grants immortality. Yes, I should found a group, for my strength alone is not enough. Let it be called the Church of Complete Truth.”

The author’s name was Harris.

Fei Xin closed the book, The Origin of the Holy Church. If this was genuine history, Harris was the lord depicted in other texts as fighting the devils.

Then, Harris managed the Church of Complete Truth for centuries. Without sufficient evidence, the name Harris likely stood for a family or generations sharing the name.

These foreigners crossed the seas to Ming China, established a branch, but did not recruit local followers, showing they were not missionaries but seekers of Harris’s secret—immortality.

Could devils truly exist? And in ancient times, did they really war with humans? Such tales circulate worldwide; perhaps they are not myth, but historical fact?

Gao Yi held The Black Moon in his hands, a faint smile on his lips.

…

“Hey? I found a gold ring.” Cui Kaixuan had a lucky find at the edge of the carpet, weighed it in his hand, and bit it. “It’s genuine, huh.”

“If we can’t escape, it’s all pointless. Let’s search for anything valuable.”

“I don’t think there’s much of worth in these ordinary priests’ rooms. Cui Kaixuan, open L207—I bet there’s something in there.”

“All right.”

The notebook defined R206’s Victor as a traitor, but from Xiuming’s evidence, L207’s Adams was the true mole. Yet the doctrine in Victor’s room noted (12,7)—what could that mean?

Since the attic key worked, this lock opened easily.

The room was identical to the others, unsurprising. They began searching meticulously for clues.

The calendar on the wall was turned to January 31, 1622.

Beneath it was the desk, on which lay the same doctrine book.

If Adams was the traitor, he would never leave obvious marks—he would hide things only in the most secret places.

Rug, behind the desk, cabinet—they searched everywhere. Apart from a flattened drop of wax on the floor in front of the cabinet, left by the previous owner, there was nothing.

No, there must be something! It just wouldn’t be so easy to find. Xiuming racked his brain, recalling plots from novels and TV, examining every possible hiding place.

The walls?

He tapped every inch.

The floor? Impossible—anything would be heard from below.

Cui Kaixuan continued to inspect every detail of the cabinet, knocking to check for hollows.

The candlestick caught Xiuming’s attention.

It was heavy; the base supported the candleholder, which held a long pin for mounting the candle.

Xiuming tried twisting the base, but it wouldn’t budge.

The wax drop on the floor?

Something occurred to Xiuming. He took the candlestick to the cabinet.

“I’ve checked the cabinet, it’s solid, nothing can be hidden,” Cui Kaixuan said.

Xiuming stood at the wax drop, looking at the cabinet.

In an inconspicuous corner, there was a small hole—likely a manufacturing flaw.

Suddenly inspired, Xiuming slowly inserted the candlestick’s pin with force.

A cylindrical piece of wood slid out from the other side.

“Hey?” Cui Kaixuan stepped forward and pulled it out.

The wood was ten centimeters long, one end showing signs of sawing—it could be opened.

Inside were several rolled papers.

He counted—five sheets.