The moment that grinding of gears echoed out, every stone beast carved into the cavern wall snapped its jaws open. In the next heartbeat, a rain of arrows came shearing down like a storm.

  The Xuan-Gui panicked, slamming about wildly and nearly diving back into the water.

  My foot slipped and I almost went in headfirst.

  Lian snatched my wrist, his grip hot and iron-tight, hauling me back onto the shell. His voice dropped to a sharp reprimand. “Do not move.”

  I hadn’t even caught my breath when Hua’s folding fan swept open. A few crisp cracks rang out; every arrow that came for us was slapped aside as if the air itself bent for him.

  He lifted his eyes, voice cold. “The mechanisms are awake. We have no choice but to break through.”

  Ahead, the mouth of the water tunnel suddenly narrowed as the stone gates on both sides began grinding shut. That eerie red glow from the embedded gem bathed the upper hinges, locking them tight like some malignant seal.

  Lian let out a short, cold laugh. A flick of his sleeve sent a hidden dart slicing straight toward the red gem.

  A sharp clang split the air. The light shuddered but refused to die; instead it forced the gates to close even faster.

  The current surged. A few Xuan-Guis shrieked and thrashed, scattering like startled birds.

  Hua flicked his wrist, fan bones trembling with internal force. “With me.” He was already airborne, springing from shell to shell toward the narrowing gap.

  Lian dragged me along with brusque efficiency. My footing tilted on the Xuan-Gui’s back; before I could scream, the creature rolled and I dropped into open air.

  “Hold your breath,” Lian barked.

  In the next instant he and Hua struck the half-shut stone gates from opposite sides.

  A thunderous boom exploded through the passage. The gates cracked open a hand’s width. A wall of water slammed through, sweeping all three of us into the dark like leaves.

  Cold swallowed me whole. My lungs seized. My ears rang with the roar of the torrent.

  Then—“splutch”—I was spat onto a slick rock shelf jutting out of the water. I choked and coughed until stars burst behind my eyes, sprawled like a half-drowned fish.

  I wiped my face, gasped, and looked around wildly. “Lian? …Hua?!”

  Only my own echo answered, hollow enough to raise gooseflesh.

  They were gone.

  And the purple jade—gone too. No doubt that bastard of a tomb-raider boss had used the chaos to haul it off.

  My stomach dropped. I shoved a hand into my soaked clothes. Relief flickered when my fingers hit solid pieces—just the shattered remains of the Xuan-Gui shell, split cleanly in two. I stuffed them back. “Fine. Good enough for a good-luck charm. Don’t say I never carried you.”

  With no other choice, I staggered forward. Only then did I realize the place ahead was a stone forest.

  Crooked spires jabbed upward like a field of spears, water threading in the cracks. Worse, the only passable route was a narrow winding path between pillars—clearly designed to torment anyone foolish enough to enter.

  I braced myself and stepped in—and immediately almost died.

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  A stone column suddenly pivoted with a harsh click and swept across like a giant’s arm. I dropped onto my backside so hard I saw white, and the column whooshed past where my ribs had been.

  I scrambled up. Two steps later, a slab dropped from above. I flung myself backwards and landed in a freezing puddle with a very undignified splash.

  Shaking, teeth chattering, I spat, “Who designed this place? Ever heard of basic decency?!”

  Before I could recover, mist jetted out between the pillars. Shapes moved in the haze—stone beasts jutting forward just long enough to spit water straight into my face. Blinded, panicking, I stumbled onto a slanted rock. It wobbled violently and threw me off-balance. I ended up dangling by one arm from a stone ridge, legs kicking uselessly over empty air.

  “Lian! …Hua!” My voice cracked. Only the cold echo answered.

  I dragged myself up by sheer will. Ahead lay a narrow stone beam stretched across deep black water.

  Perfect. Just perfect.

  Grinding my teeth, I flattened myself against it and crawled like an ungainly crab. Halfway across, my foot slid. A jolt of terror stabbed through me and I glued myself to the beam, frozen stiff while cold sweat rolled down my back.

  The dark water whispering below sounded like a death sentence being read aloud.

  I whimpered to the heavens, “Whoever’s watching—don’t let me die in this damned place…”

  But staying there would kill me just as surely. I clenched my jaw, forced my shaking knees under me, and in one reckless burst lunged forward with my eyes squeezed shut.

  Miraculously, I made it.

  I collapsed on the far side, sprawled and trembling. I’d barely taken two breaths when something snapped in the depths ahead, like someone stepping on a hidden trigger.

  Ice crawled up my spine. That tomb-raiding bastard again?

  But when I looked up, it wasn’t him.

  Lian and Hua were striding toward me side by side, closing the distance with unhurried confidence. One wore the cold focus of a blade; the other smiled like spring wind. Neither bore a scratch. Neither looked remotely like they had just been pulverized by the same death trap that nearly killed me twenty times.

  If arrows or spikes shot out, Lian’s sleeve flicked—cold light flashed—and the threat shattered.

  If boulders blocked the way, Hua’s fan snapped open and blasted them into rubble. And if a block proved too heavy to break, they simply braced themselves—one pushing, one pulling—and forced the passage through sheer will.

  Gods stop them, they kill gods. Buddha stops them, they kill Buddha. Even the grinding of the mechanisms had become mere background noise to their advance.

  I watched, stunned. Whatever pride I’d scraped together from surviving this hellscape crumbled just like the debris around them.

  Fine. I stayed seated and waited for them to stroll right up.

  Lian’s first words were a frown and a sharp reprimand. “When I told you to hold onto me, who told you to—”

  He cut himself off, but the anger was there, simmering.

  Hua, of course, looked utterly unbothered. Fan folding neatly shut, he smiled. “Dear Gong, the road ahead is dangerous. Best cling tightly to our dear sect master from now on.”

  I rolled my eyes, temper fraying. Losing the jade, almost dying in this cursed stone maze—I was already hanging by a thread. “Cling to what? The purple jade’s gone.”

  The words were barely out when a soft thud sounded overhead.

  Speak of the devil.

  The tomb-raider boss had indeed reappeared. A thick rope was tied to his waist, and he swung along the walls like some deranged mountain monkey, landing lightly above us on a high ledge.

  I opened my mouth to yell abuse—but went rigid. Behind him, wedged in the stone, hung an inconspicuous stone coffin.

  What the hell was he doing up there?

  The answer came fast. He pressed the purple jade to the coffin’s seam, moving it along the cracks with all the reverence of a thief caressing gold. Greed burned in his eyes. But the coffin didn’t so much as twitch.

  I cupped my hands and shouted, “It’s just a pretty rock! You can’t open it with that!”

  He didn’t hear a word. His fury twisted his face. He actually raised the jade as if to smash it against the lid.

  My heart dropped. At that distance, even if Lian and Hua were literal immortals, they couldn’t reach him in time.

  Just then—a harsh, guttural wail tore from the far side of the stone wall.

  The sound was half-beast, half-human, like a cry dragged up through torn vocal cords. A blur of shadow erupted from the crevice—a lean predator with a panther’s body, wolfish posture, and a long, bristling dog tail whipping behind it.

  “Fang-Mei,” Lian muttered, voice low and razor-sharp.

  A chill shot through me. Great. Another abomination.

  Fang-Mei streaked up the wall with impossible speed and bowled the boss flat. Its claws flashed like hooked knives, tearing straight for his throat. He fought back, but even then he clutched the jade, refusing to let go.

  Man and monster writhed across the stone face. The purple jade swung wildly between them, threatening to fall at any second.

  And fall it did—slipping from his grasp and plummeting toward the abyss.

  My soul nearly left my body.

  But Lian moved. One tap of the toe, and he shot forward like a bolt of lightning. His sleeve snapped like a banner as he extended one hand—catching the jade the instant it scraped past the wall.

  My knees buckled. I nearly collapsed where I stood.

  Damn it. That scared the life out of me.