Chapter 6: The Compass Fails

At this moment, the darkness was so profound that it would not be an exaggeration to say you could not see your hand before your face. Holding a flashlight, I walked slowly, uncertain if it was something innate or otherwise, but I felt not a trace of fear. It seemed as though I was born to linger in places like this.

Gradually, my feet stepped onto a path paved with bluish stone slabs. The silence here was deep, yet not the sort of horror depicted in films or television—the graveyard terror. Perhaps my heart was simply too resilient.

Occasionally, the calls of unknown beasts echoed, but this place was not as complex as I had imagined. There was only a single path, without winding turns. The surrounding trees grew thick and tall, and as I ventured further, it felt more and more like a natural tunnel. The dense foliage formed a barrier that concealed everything—especially that ancient, mysterious tomb.

Continuing along, I felt my nerves tighten. The peace I had felt was shattered. It was too quiet—so quiet it was unsettling. Even the beasts’ cries had vanished. The road beneath my feet seemed to grow heavier, as if something ahead was waiting for me.

Instinctively, I glanced back, and cold sweat broke out across my back. Was this truly the path I had walked? That massive stone at the edge, the pitch-black darkness behind—where was the straight road I had come down? Biting my lip and shaking my head, I was certain this was not the way I had traversed. Could it be the legendary phenomenon—ghost walls?

Steadying my nerves, I thought, so be it. If I’m lost, then I’m lost. I hadn’t planned to return anyway. Old Zheng Ming had said I wouldn’t live much longer; what was there to fear? When you know your death is imminent and nothing can change it, does fear still linger?

I pressed onward without looking back, adopting a stance that cared little for the waves behind me.

As I walked, I halted and fixed my gaze ahead. There stood a dark stone stele, covered in densely inscribed characters, which I did not recognize—perhaps some ancient script.

There was nothing near the stele; it was a dead end, surrounded by towering, ancient trees, their age no doubt spanning thousands of years, their canopy blotting out the sky.

What to do now? I pondered, staring at the stele. It couldn’t have appeared without reason. I should have asked the old grave keeper for directions; I had no sense of the way, and the complexity of this place had caught me unawares. Now, lost.

I searched nearby but found nothing of significance. In my mind, this place should resemble the Imperial Tombs outside the capital—grand and imposing. Yet it was nothing like that.

I summoned my strength, stepped onto a tree trunk, and climbed swiftly. The branches were sturdy enough to support me, and it took little effort to reach the middle, then the top. Looking around, all I saw was dense forest. As I had guessed, the path I had just walked had shifted—vanished completely.

For a long time, I found nothing. After drinking some water and preparing to descend, I suddenly felt a chill at my back, raising the hairs on my skin. Something was behind me.

Without turning, I drew the ancient black-gold knife from my back, spun around, and slashed swiftly. As the blade paused, I saw what was behind me.

The sight nearly made me fall from the tree—a gigantic serpent, its massive body coiled around a nearby tree. Its dark color rendered it invisible in the sunless forest unless one looked closely. Its tail wrapped around another trunk, and its enormous head, very near, flicked its tongue at me. Its cold, purple eyes glinted eerily.

Clearly, my movement had not injured it, but it seemed agitated—less as if I were prey, and more as if I were an intruder. Yes, an enemy, trespassing in its territory.

Its vast tongue flicked, and with a tilt of its head, I knew trouble was coming. I leapt to another tree, cursing inwardly. The last time I met that bear, it was much the same—was this place meant to hone my agility?

Cursing did little good; I hurried my movements. The serpent was enormous—heaven knows what it fed upon, perhaps it had lived for a millennium and grown sentient. There was no point in fighting; even wielding my knife felt futile, uncertain if it could pierce its scales.

I leapt across several trees, and as I was about to glance back, a foul, cold wind swept around me. My heart sank. In a rush of tremors, I plummeted down, seeing the trunk that had supported me smashed apart. Luckily, it missed me, and I grabbed another branch, scrambling swiftly downward.

The black serpent seemed frustrated that it hadn’t caught me, thrashing wildly among the trees. Its strength was immense, the forest whipped into chaos. About two meters from the ground, I fell hard. Before I could stand, a shadow crashed down from above.

I rolled instinctively, the stench overwhelming, nearly causing me to retch. It missed me, but smashed another tree. Such tremendous force!

Ignoring the pain, I scrambled to my feet and ran. The cold wind seemed ever at my back, threatening to strike at any moment. Damn it, was this serpent bored enough to chase me endlessly? Its territory was vast indeed.

Running for a while, I realized I was truly lost. Everywhere looked alike; my flashlight, too, had vanished, though I had a spare. Turning it on, I saw only darkness—no moonlight, no direction. Even my compass had failed.

Just as I wondered what to do, a great roar sounded behind me. The serpent was closing in. Before I could curse, a huge force slammed beside me, sending me flying into a tree. Pain surged through my organs, and I felt gravity slip away. Gripping my knife and flashlight tightly, I tumbled until I finally came to rest.

Many parts of my body were scraped, some torn open. I could barely muster strength. After a long while, I managed to recover. Thankfully, the serpent had vanished. I sheathed my knife, lifted the flashlight, and scanned the surroundings. It was cool here—a small river ran beside me. I painstakingly sat up, resting after the ordeal.

Standing up, I checked myself—mostly superficial wounds. Thankfully, my body was robust; otherwise, I’d have been smashed apart.

Directionless, I followed the river, hoping to find the ancient tomb. Frustration gnawed at me. The temperature dropped, the coolness turning to chill. Frowning, I surveyed the area, but nothing stood out.

Suddenly, my foot slipped, plunging into the water. An icy numbness seized my leg, as if frozen solid. This river was unbearably cold—no, not merely cold, but bone-chilling, numbing my entire limb instantly. I strained to pull my foot free.

Yet something more frightening happened. I felt something grip my ankle—something preventing me from moving. The icy water nearly immobilized me.

I could not afford hesitation; whatever clutched my ankle felt like a hand. I drew my knife and stabbed downward, striking something. The grip loosened, and I quickly pulled my foot out.

Relief washed over me, and I sat down heavily, rubbing my leg to restore circulation. After a long while, sensation returned.

I looked towards the frigid river—nothing visible on the surface. Why was it so cold, when it was not even winter? And what was that strange thing?

Examining my ankle, I saw clear finger marks, bruised and painful to the touch. I wondered if it was poisoned.

I stood and gazed at the river. It was calm; the flashlight revealed only darkness, nothing in the water. With this temperature, surely no fish could survive. And the marks, the feeling—it was unmistakably a hand, a powerful hand.

Water ghost? The term sprang to mind, and cold sweat broke out. Shaking my head to dispel wild guesses, I tightened my backpack and continued onward.

This time, I kept far from the river, wary of another mishap. I walked for an indeterminate time, feeling as though I had returned to the same spot. Glancing at the sky, dawn seemed to be breaking.