Chapter Sixty-Six - A Desperate Turn of Fate (Part Two)

With water sources, there must be an exit—this is beyond doubt. All I can hope for now is that the vacuum within the rock was formed by the impact of underground water. Yet I also know, since there is a hot spring here, it must mean that beneath my feet lies a vast geothermal magma belt, and that vacuum is most likely the result of high-temperature lava pressure. If that is the case, then I truly have no hope. Never mind the thousand-degree magma—even the hundreds of degrees inside would be enough to melt my body the moment I stepped in; there would be no chance of escape.

“No matter what, I have to try. It’s been nearly half a day already; my parents must know I fell from the cliff. I can’t let my mother grieve—her heart has never been strong…” I frowned, lost in troubled thought.

Time slipped away rapidly. Whether I used broken car parts to pound or dig, the rock was as hard as iron—seamless, flawless, completely impervious. Frustration welled up inside me. At last, I hurled the piece of metal in my hand aside and kicked the cliff face with all my might, cursing, “I can’t dig, I can’t break through—just tell me, how am I supposed to get through you? I beg you, I can’t die here—I want out, I refuse to die in this place!”

The more I shouted, the angrier I became. With a wild howl, I kicked the cliff over and over, leaving messy footprints as I went mad with desperation. Anyone in such a predicament, knowing hope lay just beyond reach but utterly blocked by this barrier, would surely be driven to insanity.

I lost count of how many times I kicked or how long I screamed. Gradually, my breath became labored and my strength ebbed with my despair. I had nearly covered the whole cliff face, venting my anxiety and rage.

“Crack!” Suddenly, as I absentmindedly kicked the right side of the cliff, a faint sound caught my attention. I looked down in a panic—astonished to see a small piece of stone, previously intact, had flown off with my kick. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief, I saw that beneath it lay a ring pull.

A ring pull! Yes—a rusted iron ring, about the size of a palm, half embedded in the rock face as if it were part of the cliff itself. I reached out, heart thundering, and tugged gently at the iron ring, examining it closely.

“How could there be a metal ring here? Does that mean someone’s been here before? And why does this ring look so much like a switch?” Joy overtook me at the realization: if someone had been in this narrow valley, it meant there must be a way out! A way out meant hope, and hope meant the chance to return alive to C City! Elated, I grasped the rusted ring and pulled.

As I expected, the ring came out of the rock just a fraction, revealing a silver metal filament inside the crevice. Overjoyed, I summoned all my strength and gave the ring a forceful yank.

“Clack, clack, clack…” The heavy grinding of a mechanism made me pause. The entire cliff seemed to come alive. Rocks slid and tumbled, striking my shoulders and head. But I no longer felt the pain; my eyes were fixed on the shifting rock before me.

“My God…” I breathed, stunned, though my voice was drowned by the thunderous rumble all around. At that moment, I felt as if I’d stepped into a world of fantasy. Everything transforming around me felt pulled straight from a martial arts novel.

The once-imposing cliff, nearly three meters high, shuddered and began to slide apart to either side. Slivers of light pierced the darkness, casting a dusky glow into the cave as the stone parted.

My guesses had been entirely wrong. Inside the rock, there was no underground water, nor any searing magma—only a stone bed, several stone stools, a nearly collapsed wooden bookshelf, and, lying across a stone table, the skeletal remains of a corpse with a golden knife thrust through its ribs.

Clang—the iron ring fell from my hand as I caught sight of the skeleton, frightened despite knowing it had lain here for untold years. My heart thudded wildly. One glance was enough to confirm: this person had not died a natural death. The knife protruding from his chest made that all too clear.

After a few minutes of stunned paralysis, the desire to survive finally overcame my fear of the unknown. I gathered some dry grass, piled it outside the stone door, and used friction to kindle a fire. The room brightened, revealing the thick dust on the stone bed and the tattered remains of a straw mat.

Steeling myself, I strode into the stone room and examined the skeleton on the table. Judging by its pose, it did not appear to have been slain here. Though the chamber was dilapidated, there were no signs of struggle. This suggested there was an exit—the ancient person, gravely wounded, must have escaped into this secret room. Clearly, he was the original master of this hidden valley.

I moved closer to the skull and noticed something white beneath it on the table. Curiosity overcame me; I gently tried to shift the head to see what lay below.

Crack—a crisp snap echoed in the eerie silence, making me flinch and tremble. The poor ancient’s skull, brittle from centuries of decay, broke in two and rolled to my feet.

“Amitabha…” I murmured a Buddhist prayer, hoping it might make up for my misdeed. Then, I saw what the skull had been concealing—a bloodstained letter written on a scrap of silk. Clearly, this message had been left by the very skeleton beside me, perhaps detailing instructions for escape! Heart pounding, I studied the letter closely.

It was written in ancient script, but thanks to the alien octopus’s knowledge instilled in my mind, this archaic text was mere child’s play. After finishing what seemed to be a will, my eyes lit up. Gazing at the broken skull on the ground, I knelt with delight, exclaiming, “Master, please accept this disciple’s bow! Er, although I accidentally broke your head, I promise not to let you down. The Ziyang Divine Art will surely flourish in my hands—hehehe…”