Please provide the text of Chapter 17 for translation.

A long, winding stretch of ancient stone steps unfurled beneath their feet, twisting away into the gloom. Unlike the air aboveground, the underground passage was thick with a stifling, rotten stench—the reek of a place deprived year-round of sun and rain. The air was also heavy with choking dust, so much so that after a while, Lin Yu could truly understand the phrase “living torment” in all its bitter meaning.

She looked up, and by the eerie blue firelight of the torches nearly embedded in the stone walls, she could see that in the filthy corners of these winding steps, aside from the haphazard, dust-laden cobwebs, there were also scattered piles of bones lying in the shadows, their pale phosphorescence flickering in the gloom, chilling to the core if one stared too long.

Withdrawing her gaze, Lin Yu tilted her head and glanced at Kaizen, who followed close behind, his expression wary. Then, without a word, she turned to frown at the long-haired Yinfay walking ahead, whose warm hand was tightly gripping her wrist.

Damn it!

Did they really think she was the cream filling in a sandwich, squashed between the two? That person hadn’t even asked before handing her over to this guy, telling her to stay close and not get lost.

She pursed her lips and once again tried to pull her overheated wrist free, though she knew it was futile—if anything, it would only earn her another sidelong, mocking glance from Yinfay, as if to say, “Don’t make trouble.”

“You’re holding too tight,” she muttered, tapping the man’s shoulder forcefully.

“Keep it up and I’ll just carry you,” the man said without turning his head—a warning he was more than capable of making good on. Lin Yu swallowed her next words and allowed herself to be pulled along in silence.

At the head of the group, Hughes handled the lurking dangers in the shadows—strange-garbed but astonishingly powerful puppet-assassins, likely purchased in bulk from the Ghost Market by the middle-aged steward, using the high price fetched from illicitly sold antiques and jade from the city lord’s mansion.

The further they descended, the colder the air grew, seeming to seep right through flesh and bone, leaving them shivering from within. Instinctively, everyone quickened their pace.

After nearly half an hour, the interminable, dim corridor finally revealed an exit. Shadows flickered and overlapped in the distance, writhing like the phantoms of a haunted underworld, as if at any moment they might crawl forth.

Hughes came to a halt, turned back, and under the ghostly blue torchlight Lin Yu saw that his lips, strikingly red against his calm face, formed a silent nod toward Yinfay. Then he fixed her with a long, searching look before motioning for the elf Archer Orl to cover him. With swift, silent steps, he slipped off and melted into the darkness. Only when his figure had vanished from sight and an unnatural hush fell over everything did a deep unease well up inside Lin Yu, as though she’d been abandoned by the world—the feverish tangle of panic and agitation growing wild in her chest.

All around, the silence stretched, so deep it seemed everything was dead.

In the dimness, Lin Yu shifted her hand, still tightly gripped, with so little force it could hardly be called a struggle.

Then, from that shadowed murk, she heard her own calm voice say, “Let’s follow—into the dungeon.”

“The dungeon?” Yinfay turned, his gaze odd as it swept over her.

He slowly reached up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear before continuing languidly, “Have you forgotten? The demon parasite within you... If you go down there now, you’ll be announcing yourself to that hound-nosed monster—fresh, free prey delivered to its door.”

“Oh, of course, that’s assuming the mutated predator is in the dungeon,” he added, fingers lightly gripping her chin, his tone deliberate and warning.

Lin Yu knocked his hand away and, under his silent scrutiny, grumbled in a muffled voice, “But I heard voices from inside…”

Yinfay glanced suspiciously toward the entrance, and just then, caught sight of Orl, crouched at the doorway, nodding in confirmation.

Hughes beckoned, pulling Lin Yu forward despite her reluctance. “As you wish. Come, stay close.”

“Mm.”

As they crept forward, Yinfay drew Lin Yu behind a massive boulder near the entrance. Peering out through a crack, she saw no sign of Hughes—he must have hidden among the jagged rocks nearby, just as Kaizen had taken cover in a crevice behind them.

“Shh…” Yinfay pressed a finger to his lips, signaling Lin Yu, who was gripping her bow tight, to look up and take in the scene. This time, she stared in astonishment—

The so-called “dungeon” was brightly lit by the wild blue flames along its stone walls, banishing all shadows and exposing every lurking horror. The black shapes seen from above were now clearly revealed—an army of puppet-assassins, slaves to the Ghost Market below. Bereft of self or thought, these battle automatons knew only to obey, relentless until death.

Now, however, they stood inert and glassy-eyed in the spacious, sealed chamber, packed so tightly they resembled the writhing larvae in a hive.

The air was thick with the stink of rot and blood, the reek of spoiled flesh, and something else—something acrid and cloying. There was also the sound of harsh, labored breathing, and the clanging of chains.

Against the mottled, bloodstained stone walls, four thick, black iron chains stretched from the corners, binding a “man.” Before him stood, unmistakably, the middle-aged steward who had hosted guests at the city lord’s mansion that very day.

“Get away!” The raw, heavy breathing came from the chained figure. From Lin Yu’s vantage, she could just make out the man cowering at the center, his face obscured by a tangled mess of filthy black hair.

Beside the steward, a massive cage held a creature—an ailing, green-skinned monster, barely clinging to life.

Even from afar, Lin Yu guessed the overpowering stench was coming from it: its bare, mottled green skin was slashed and whipped, yellow pus oozing from open sores, its bloodshot eyes lolling blankly in a face twisted beyond recognition—a sight to freeze the blood.

“All right, Yalorus, save your strength,” the steward said, casting a sidelong, mocking glance at the prisoner on the wall.

He drew a small knife from his belt, picked up a filthy, blood-soaked wooden bowl, and strode unhurriedly to the great cage. Without hesitation, he plunged the knife into the creature’s back, collecting a bowlful of thick, dark green fluid as it oozed from the wound. The monster, splayed helpless in the cage, didn’t even have strength to whimper, so thoroughly had it been tortured.

Yalorus panted, the iron shackles at his wrists and ankles rattling violently as he glared at the steward, his voice hoarse with rage: “No, keep that filth away! I will not drink Yatok’s blood! Even if he’s demon-tainted, he still did as promised and brought Sormu’s brat to you! What right have you to break your word? Release my sister Yanina!”

The steward only laughed—a twisted, hellish sound, like a fiend at the gates of the underworld. His words were pure poison: “Why shouldn’t I, child? If not for that Sormu—the merchant’s whelp—my daughter would never have…”

He swirled the green liquid, face darkening. “Think carefully. That man never saw you or ‘it’ as his own. To him, you exist only as tools to protect his pathetic authority. Don’t forget what you are—trash clawed up from the mud. Did you really think you were accepted? A foster father? Hah… Ask yourself, when you were left bloodied and hunted by his enemies for his ridiculous orders—or worse, when you were captured and twisted into monsters by the demons, as this wretch was—where was he then?”

With a vicious kick to the cage, he made clear the demon-twisted “wretch” was the green monster within.

“Oh, perhaps enjoying domestic bliss with his precious daughter. Enough, Yalorus. Open wide—drink it down…”

“No…”

Yalorus’s voice broke in agony. “Sormu betrayed your daughter, not Yanina, not me, not Yatok! She died because of her own jealousy—Sormu and Yanina were only friends. She went mad with envy and tried to drown Yanina. And I will never drink that poison again! It destroys me—leaves me mindless and at your mercy, a killer without conscience! I can’t…”

“Oh? Listen to yourself.”

The steward’s gaze burned with insane hatred. “When I arrived, I saw my innocent daughter’s corpse dragged from the lake by that whore! Spare her? Hah… I’ll never spare her. ‘Moon’s Rest’ was too kind. I’ll destroy her—and your wretched family—piece by piece! Now, drink it!”

“No, no… you’re mad! I… No—ugh!”

With a violent clatter of chains, the steward forced the bowl of green liquid down Yalorus’s throat. In moments, the man’s body arched in agony, as if crushed by intolerable pain.

“You—step up. Keep feeding him blood. Let the young master feast. The raid the other night was just an appetizer; tonight’s patricide is the main event. I can hardly wait to see your performance…”

His voice, thick with cruel pleasure, sent a chill through everyone present.