The wind of West Mountain howled across the wasteland, carrying fine grit that struck Ye Chenyu's face like a silent warning. Clutching the core fragment in his hand, he tread cautiously, fully aware that this wasteland was no ordinary place. The faint glow beyond the cracked stone array guided him, as if some unseen force was pulling him forward.
At the end of the fissured stone maze, he walked alongside Li Yueying, both of them keeping their eyes fixed ahead. Suddenly, a palace half-buried in sand and thorns emerged into view. Its walls were mottled and crumbling, the roof largely collapsed, as if devoured by time and wind. Yet the palace exuded a strange, heavy aura—ancient, oppressive, and tinged with a low, dangerous hum, as if waiting to ensnare intruders.
Ye Chenyu and Li Yueying stepped carefully inside, the gravel beneath their feet crunching softly. The interior was dimly lit, with the air thick with mold and a metallic, bloody stench. In the corners, oddly shaped red-furred creatures watched silently. Their eyes glimmered faintly, seemingly capable of piercing the darkness. Their mimicry of human voices was disturbingly precise—Ye Chenyu even heard his own faint breathing amplified, or perhaps Li Yueying whispering to guide him forward.
"Don't… go near… over there…" A familiar voice echoed through the air. But when Ye Chenyu turned, Li Yueying remained steadfast at his side, her gaze cold and unreadable, saying nothing. A sudden, inexplicable fear gripped him: the voice did not come from a human, but from those ape-like creatures. Their red fur flickered in the shadows, long fingers tracing the walls, whispering as if the entire palace were laughing at him. His heart began to race; his chest felt pressed by an unseen force, every step like walking on the edge of a cliff.
At the center of the hall stood a colossal statue, half-human, half-stone, its surface covered in cracks and symbols. Its deep-set eyes seemed to follow Ye Chenyu's every move. Even from dozens of steps away, he could feel the inescapable gaze—a look that pierced the soul, raising the hairs on his body. The statue's lips curved faintly, as if sneering, yet simultaneously whispering some indescribable secret.
"This… the god of West Mountain…" Ye Chenyu murmured inwardly, his voice trembling. Yet each word seemed captured by the statue, causing subtle vibrations in the air. Li Yueying stood nearby, her expression calm, but exuding an oppressive aura that made it impossible to look at her directly.
The red-furred creatures began moving, silently gathering around the statue. They whispered, mimicking Ye Chenyu's own thoughts, even voicing his deepest fears. The sound pounded in his ears, blending hallucination with reality. For a moment, he even feared they might consume his mind.
Li Yueying pointed toward a crack at the base of the statue. "Avoid their echoes. Focus the core fragment's energy." Her voice, at that moment, became Ye Chenyu's only anchor, allowing him to find a sliver of stability amid the mental chaos. He held his breath and moved slowly, stepping carefully to avoid the creatures' gaze. The core fragment glimmered faintly, as if responding to its master's will.
Approaching the statue, a chill rose from his feet up his spine. The statue's eyes seemed to shift slightly, its gaze like invisible chains, restraining his movements and breath. The red-furred creatures clustered around, their whispers forming strange echoes in the hall, as if hundreds of eyes were watching, or countless mouths recounting indescribable secrets in his ears.
Ye Chenyu slowly lifted his head, locking eyes with the statue. A previously unknown weight pressed on him. He understood that this danger was not only physical but a trial of the mind—the wisdom and power hidden in the depths of West Mountain were far more profound and unfathomable than anything he had encountered.
Clutching the core fragment tightly, he edged toward a side door beside the statue. The creatures' mimicked voices grew clearer, even overlapping into layered illusions. Yet under the fragment's soft glow, he could discern reality from hallucination, steadying his breath as he moved.
Finally, Ye Chenyu stepped out of the statue's gaze. The red-furred creatures paused in the shadows, emitting low, guttural murmurs, like beasts that had lost their prey. He glanced back: the statue remained motionless, the symbols within the fissures flickering faintly, as if recording his every move.
He and Li Yueying stood side by side at the edge of the palace. The wind howled again through the fissures, carrying away the palace's whispers, yet leaving a lingering sense of shock and unease. The secrets buried deep within West Mountain were far more sinister than they had imagined. And the whispers of the wasteland palace seemed to hint—true trials had yet to begin.