Chapter Thirty-Three: Desperation

“Thump—thump—thump.”

The sound of footsteps, hurried and chaotic, drifted faintly from outside, growing ever more distant. Clearly, someone was running.

“Guan Qian, did you hear that? It sounds like footsteps,” Mo Han whispered, pressing his ear against the icy wall, straining to listen.

“The sound seems to be coming from the other side of this wall,” Guan Qian replied, staring at it. His pale eyes flickered, but he could not see through to whatever lay beyond. This chamber was utterly isolated; the Maya who built this underground room must have used some special method to conceal it. Yet the sounds from outside could still seep in—perhaps the only flaw in its construction, or maybe it was intentionally designed for some unknown purpose.

The hurried, chaotic footsteps drew nearer. Mo Han shouted, but received no reply.

“Stop shouting,” Guan Qian said, squinting his pale eyes. “Inside this chamber, our voices can’t escape, but sounds from outside can penetrate.”

“What? What are we supposed to do then? Isn’t there any way out?” Mo Han’s voice was desperate; he kept shouting for help, but even as his voice broke and the footsteps came within arm’s reach, there was no response.

Survival instinct drove him to madness. Mo Han was no exception. He sprang up and slammed his body against the wall, his powerful frame rebounding several steps as the wall resisted his force. The numbness spread across his shoulder, but he crashed into the wall again, relentless. All he could hear—could think of—were the footsteps outside, his sole hope for escape.

His hoarse cries faded, hope crumbled. No matter how desperately he called for help or battered the wall, this chamber seemed to exist in another realm, untouched and unseen by those outside.

Finally, whether his shoulder could no longer withstand the blows or he realized the futility of it all, despair overtook Mo Han. The lifeline dangled so close, but was as distant as a thousand miles—one could not help but surrender to hopelessness.

He slid down the wall to sit, the flickering glow of a luminous bone he had thrown aside mocking his futile struggle. His mind emptied, leaving him staring blankly, unable to think, letting the bleak emotion wash over him.

The chamber was eerily silent, the hush oppressive and suffocating.

Guan Qian, still cradling the unconscious Tang Ru Yan, watched Mo Han’s desperate behavior in silence. He knew everyone possessed a fierce will to survive; after so long in the chamber, the first glimmer of escape would naturally send Mo Han into turmoil.

Silence. An overwhelming silence.

Guan Qian’s pale eyes swept the darkness, lingering on the unknown stone carvings and script etched into the cold wall, and the tangled remains of two skeletons in the corner. His expression was grave. No one could guess what he was thinking, nor fathom his mood.

---

In the darkness, Mo Han’s heavy breathing and Guan Qian’s flickering pale eyes lent the scene a chilling, uncanny air.

Outside the chamber—

A shadow stumbled through the pitch-black passage, running in fits and starts. He had no idea how far he’d gone, or where the tunnel might lead; his only resolve was to escape—to leave this abyss. The oppressive darkness pressed in, stirring panic and confusion within him.

“Clang—”

Something tumbled from his arms, striking his foot with a thud before bouncing to the ground, its fall punctuated by a sharp metallic clang.

“Ouch—” The shadow crouched, clutching his foot in pain, grimacing.

“Damn it, it fell again!” He glanced around, but the darkness was absolute; he could see nothing, and had to grope blindly at his feet.

Suddenly, his fingertips brushed an icy, irregularly rounded object.

“Huh, what is this?” In the empty, echoing underground, to touch something unknown was unnerving. The shadow’s heart thudded with apprehension.

The object felt smooth and cold to the touch. Could it be something valuable? Judging by its size, it might fetch a good price. Excitement drove him to explore it further.

“Strange, there are two holes,” he muttered, continuing to trace the object. Two rows of raised bumps slid beneath his fingers.

Could it be—

“Ah...”

The shadow flung the object away in terror and collapsed to the ground, cold sweat streaming down his back, soaking his shirt.

“God, this is ridiculous!” he shivered, clutching his bundle tight, pressing himself against the uneven wall for comfort.

---

Luck was truly against him; he’d spent his life feeling for things—except women—and now he’d touched this cursed object. He thought he’d found something valuable, only to discover it was worthless. God, how could you treat me so poorly? I’m a decent man.

His sly eyes glittered faintly in the darkness as he reached for his bundle, aggrieved.

“God, don’t you dare keep what I dropped. If you do, I’ll accuse you of theft!” He fumbled through his bundle, feeling the absence of something, frustration burning like mustard in his mouth.

He crouched, hesitant, extending a hand to feel along the ground, heart pounding in dread lest he touch another ghastly thing.

“Found it, found it!” The familiar feel sent a thrill through him as he swiftly tucked the dropped item back into his arms, his crafty eyes wide and alert.

Fearing another loss, he tightened his grip on the bundle. The crisp sound of metal scraping echoed, rippling through the narrow, dark corridor like stones tossed into a still lake.

Time marched on, footsteps never ceased.

“Damn it, I’ve been walking so long—why can’t I get out? This place is cursed!” he muttered, kicking at the ground in irritation. Suddenly, his foot struck another object, sending it flying.

“Crash—” The sound reverberated in the distance, breaking the oppressive silence once again.

“Ouch—” He fell hard onto the cold floor, his foot wrapped in cloth swelling with pain, his face twisted in agony, unable to utter a full word.

From his bundle tumbled chunks of gold with a clatter.

The shadow—

It was none other than the long-missing Fang He!