The cacophony seemed to emanate from every direction, surrounding Wei Wuxian in a sea of whispers and murmurs. Voices came from all sides—front, back, left, right, above, and below—creating a disconcerting ocean of hushed conversations interspersed with giggles and laughter. Men and women, young and old, their voices blended together in a disorienting chorus. Wei Wuxian could catch snippets of words and phrases, but they slipped away before he could grasp their meaning, like trying to hold water in cupped hands.

The noise was overwhelming.

With one hand still pressed against his temple, Wei Wuxian reached into his qiankun pouch with the other, retrieving a small compass-like device known as a Wind Evil Disc. As he held it in his palm, the disc's needle began to quiver and rotate, its movements growing increasingly frantic until it was spinning wildly, never pausing for even a moment.

Wei Wuxian's unease deepened. On Mount Dafan, the disc's inability to indicate a direction had been strange enough. But this ceaseless spinning was even more bewildering and ominous than if the needle had remained stubbornly still.

A sense of foreboding settled over Wei Wuxian like a heavy shroud. Unable to contain his growing anxiety, he called out, "Jin Ling!"

They had been exploring the stone castle for some time now, but had yet to encounter any signs of life. Wei Wuxian's calls echoed unanswered through the empty chambers. The first few rooms they had searched were barren, but as they ventured deeper into the structure, they came upon a room that held a single, jet-black coffin in its center.

The coffin's presence was jarring in its unexpectedness. Yet, despite the unsettling circumstances, Wei Wuxian found himself drawn to the beautifully crafted casket. Its sleek, dark wood resonated with something deep within him. Unable to resist, he ran his hand along its surface, noting the solid construction. "What a fine coffin," he murmured, his admiration tinged with a hint of dark humor.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian positioned themselves on either side of the coffin, exchanging a meaningful glance before simultaneously reaching out to lift the lid.

The moment the coffin was opened, the cacophony in Wei Wuxian's head intensified tenfold, drowning out all other sensations. It was as if countless unseen eyes had been watching their every move, their owners whispering and discussing the intruders' actions. Now, with the coffin's opening, their excitement had reached a fever pitch.

Wei Wuxian had mentally prepared himself for a myriad of horrors—the stench of decay, grasping claws, poisonous gases, vengeful spirits—but what he hoped for most was to find Jin Ling. However, as the lid lifted, they were met with... nothing.

The coffin was empty.

Wei Wuxian felt a mixture of surprise and disappointment that Jin Ling wasn't trapped within. Lan Wangji leaned in closer, Bichen sliding further from its sheath, its cold light illuminating the coffin's interior. It was then that they noticed something small nestled in the deepest part of the casket.

Lying on a bed of red cloth at the bottom of the coffin was a long sword.

The weapon was unsheathed, its hilt appearing to be solid gold, lending it significant weight. The blade was long and slender, its edge gleaming wickedly in the dim light. Resting on the crimson fabric, it seemed to reflect a blood-like hue, exuding an aura of violence and death.

A coffin containing a sword instead of a body—yet another unsettling oddity in this labyrinth of stone chambers. Every step deeper into the complex seemed to unveil new layers of strangeness and unease.

They closed the lid and continued their exploration, discovering similar coffins in several other rooms. The craftsmanship and apparent age of each coffin varied, but all contained a single long sword. Still, there was no sign of Jin Ling. As Wei Wuxian closed the lid on the final coffin, his worry continued to grow.

Noticing Wei Wuxian's furrowed brow and uncharacteristic silence, Lan Wangji paused in contemplation. After a moment, he placed his guqin horizontally atop the coffin. With a graceful sweep of his hand, a cascade of notes flowed from his fingertips.

He played only a brief melody before withdrawing his hand, his gaze fixed intently on the still-vibrating strings.

Suddenly, a single string trembled and produced a note of its own accord.

"Inquiry?" Wei Wuxian asked, recognizing the spiritual technique.

Inquiry was a renowned composition created by the ancestors of the Lan Clan. Unlike the Soul-Summoning Melody, it was used when the identity of the deceased was unknown and no physical medium was available. The player would pose questions through the music, and the spirit's responses would be translated into musical notes, manifesting as vibrations in the strings.

The autonomous movement of the string indicated that Lan Wangji had successfully called forth a spirit from within the stone castle. Now, a conversation in the language of music would ensue between the living and the dead.

The intricacies of guqin-speak were a closely guarded secret of the Lan Clan. Despite his vast knowledge, this was an area where Wei Wuxian's expertise fell short. He spoke softly to Lan Wangji, "Hanguang-Jun, please ask it what this place is, its purpose, and who built it."

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Without hesitation, Lan Wangji's fingers danced across the strings, producing a series of clear, crisp notes. After a brief pause, the strings vibrated on their own, producing two distinct sounds. Wei Wuxian leaned in eagerly, "What did it say?"

Lan Wangji's expression remained impassive as he replied, "It doesn't know."

Wei Wuxian blinked in surprise. "What?"

With careful precision, Lan Wangji elaborated, "Its response was, 'I don't know.'"

Wei Wuxian stared at him, suddenly reminded of a conversation about the word "whatever" from many years ago. He rubbed his nose, feeling slightly deflated, and thought to himself, "Lan Zhan has really come into his own. He's even learned how to sass me."

Undeterred by the initial failure, Lan Wangji posed another question through the strings. Once again, the response came in the form of two distinct notes. Wei Wuxian, recognizing the familiar sound, asked, "What did you ask this time?"

"How it died," Lan Wangji replied.

Wei Wuxian nodded thoughtfully. "If it was killed unexpectedly or in secret, it's possible it wouldn't know the cause of its own death. Why don't you ask if it knows who killed it?"

Lan Wangji complied, his fingers plucking out a new series of notes. However, the response remained unchanged—two sharp notes that Wei Wuxian now understood to mean "I don't know."

A spirit trapped in this place that didn't know where it was, how it died, or who killed it—Wei Wuxian had never encountered such a clueless ghost before. His mind raced with possibilities as he suggested, "Let's try something else. Ask if it's male or female. Surely it must know that much."

Lan Wangji posed the question, and this time, a different string resonated strongly. "Male," Lan Wangji translated.

"Finally, something it knows," Wei Wuxian said, a hint of relief in his voice. "Now, ask if it has seen a young man, about fifteen or sixteen years old, enter this place."

The answer came: "Yes."

Encouraged, Wei Wuxian pressed on, "Then where is he now?"

There was a pause before the strings responded. Wei Wuxian leaned in, "What did it say?"

Lan Wangji's expression grew grave as he relayed the spirit's words: "It said, 'Right here.'"

Wei Wuxian fell silent, a chill running down his spine.

"Here" likely meant somewhere within the stone castle, but they had searched thoroughly and found no trace of Jin Ling. "It can't lie, can it?" Wei Wuxian asked, his voice tight with concern.

"Not in my presence," Lan Wangji confirmed.

Of course—with the formidable Hanguang-Jun conducting the inquiry, the spirit would be compelled to answer truthfully. Wei Wuxian began searching the room again, looking for any hidden mechanisms or secret passages they might have overlooked. Meanwhile, Lan Wangji, after a moment's contemplation, played two more sequences. Upon receiving the responses, his expression subtly shifted. Wei Wuxian, noticing the change, quickly asked, "What did you ask this time?"

"Its age and place of origin," Lan Wangji replied, his voice betraying a hint of tension.

Wei Wuxian's heart raced, knowing that these questions were probing the spirit's identity. "And?" he prompted, dreading the answer.

"Fifteen years old, from Lanling," Lan Wangji said, his words hanging heavy in the air.

Wei Wuxian's face paled as the implications hit him.

The spirit summoned by the Inquiry... was Jin Ling?

Straining his ears, Wei Wuxian thought he could detect Jin Ling's faint cries amidst the overwhelming cacophony of spectral voices, but the sound was too indistinct to be certain.

Lan Wangji continued his musical interrogation, undoubtedly asking for more specific location details. Wei Wuxian watched the strings intently, waiting for Jin Ling's answer.

This time, the response was longer. Lan Wangji listened carefully before relaying the message to Wei Wuxian: "'Stand where you are, face southwest, and listen for the string's sound. Take one step forward for each note. When the music stops, you'll be right in front of me.'"

Without a word, Wei Wuxian turned to face southwest. Seven notes rang out from behind him, and he took seven steps forward. Yet, there was nothing but empty space before him.

The music continued, but the intervals between notes grew longer, and Wei Wuxian's steps became more hesitant. One more step, then two, then three...

After the sixth step, the music finally fell silent.

Wei Wuxian found himself facing a solid wall.

The wall was constructed of the same grayish-white stone bricks as the rest of the castle, fitted tightly together without any visible gaps. Wei Wuxian turned back to Lan Wangji, his voice barely above a whisper, "...Is he inside the wall?"

In response, Bichen fully emerged from its sheath. Four streaks of blue light flashed across the wall, carving a neat grid pattern. Together, they began removing the cut stones, revealing a layer of dark soil behind them.

It became clear that the castle walls were double-layered, with tightly packed earth filling the space between two solid stone facades. Wei Wuxian dug into the exposed soil with his bare hands, scooping away clumps of dirt until, to his horror, he uncovered a human face—eyes tightly shut, but unmistakably belonging to Jin Ling.

The moment Jin Ling's face was freed from the earthen tomb, air rushed into his nose and mouth, causing him to cough violently and gasp for breath. Wei Wuxian felt a wave of relief wash over him at the sign of life. Jin Ling had truly been on the brink of death, his soul already beginning to separate from his body, allowing the Inquiry to make contact. Had they arrived even moments later, he would have suffocated.

As they worked to extricate Jin Ling from the wall, a grisly discovery awaited them. As they pulled him free, the sword on his back caught on something else within the earthen prison—a skeletal arm, bleached white and horrifyingly intact.

While Lan Wangji laid Jin Ling on the ground to check his vital signs and begin treatment, Wei Wuxian took up Bichen's sheath and began probing the soil around the exposed bones with practiced efficiency. Soon, an entire skeleton emerged from the earth.

The skeletal remains, like Jin Ling, had been entombed in a standing position within the wall. The stark white bones contrasted sharply with the black soil, creating a macabre tableau. Wei Wuxian continued his grim excavation, removing more bricks and disturbing more soil, soon uncovering a second set of bones nearby.

This second corpse was not as thoroughly decomposed as the first. Patches of flesh still clung to the bones, and long, matted black hair remained attached to the skull. Tattered remnants of a water-red garment suggested it had been a woman. Unlike the first skeleton, this one was bent at the waist, apparently positioned that way to accommodate a third set of remains crouched at its feet.

Wei Wuxian ceased his digging, taking a few steps back as the implications of their discovery sank in. The cacophony of spectral voices in his head swelled to a deafening roar, as if emboldened by the revelation of their earthly remains.

The horrifying truth became clear: the entire thick wall of the stone castle was filled with human remains.

Above, below, in every direction—standing, sitting, lying, crouching—countless bodies entombed within the very structure of the building.

Wei Wuxian's mind reeled as he struggled to comprehend the nightmarish scene before him. What kind of place was this?