Su Huan advanced cautiously, his steps echoing faintly as the path unfolded ahead. Each stone now bore intricate carvings that seemed to shimmer under the copper lamp's light. The carvings weren't random; they depicted scenes—battles, alliances, betrayals—etched as though the stones themselves had witnessed history.
One carving caught his attention: a man holding a copper lamp, much like Su Huan's, standing before an army of shadowy figures. The man's face was obscured, but his stance radiated defiance.
"Who is he?" Su Huan wondered aloud.
As if in answer, the copper lamp pulsed, and the flame grew momentarily brighter. A voice whispered faintly, carried by an unseen wind: "He walked this path before you, and like you, he thought himself ready."
Su Huan froze, scanning the void for the source of the voice. "Who's there?"
No response came, but the carvings shifted before his eyes. The defiant man was now kneeling, the copper lamp at his side extinguished. Shadows surrounded him, their tendrils coiling tightly as if to crush him.
Su Huan swallowed hard. "What happened to him?"
The voice returned, colder this time: "The flame demands everything. He refused to pay the price."
The light from the copper lamp flickered, and Su Huan felt a chill creep up his spine. He turned away from the carvings, pushing forward, unwilling to dwell on the ominous warning.