Chapter 45: Guo Xiaoshu Is Alive?

Chapter 45: Is Guo Xiaoshu Alive?

Everyone’s attention was fixed on the darkness ahead, the torches casting flickering beams into the void. Apart from those shafts of light, the world was nothing but pitch black.

They turned the first bend, and every breath was held.

Ten steps… Thirty steps… Fifty… Seventy… Ninety… They rounded the second curve.

Hearts pounded, silent prayers rose: let this be the way out, let the exit be at the end of this path, let it be only the rain that blocks the sunlight from entering the cave.

Zhang Sanlu walked forward, step by careful step, the ground beneath his feet smooth as ever.

Twenty steps… Forty… Sixty… Eighty… Zhang Sanlu could now vaguely see the cave’s mouth ahead. Lao Yao must have seen it too, for he slowed his already cautious pace even further, advancing with utmost care, eyes keen on the walls to either side.

As they drew closer to the exit, the darkness outside seemed impenetrable; Zhang Sanlu’s brow furrowed, a sense of foreboding blossoming in his heart.

At the very instant he stepped out of the cave, dizziness swept over him. His damned intuition was always uncannily accurate in moments like this. Even Lao Yao, confronted with the scene before them, seemed robbed of speech, standing dumbstruck, unable to say a word to those following behind.

There was no need for words, for none could explain what had happened.

They had returned to the chamber of corpses. Starting from the corpse cave, they had walked over two hundred steps, taken two major turns, and yet, as if traversing a circle, they ended up back at the beginning, back in the corpse-filled cavern.

In this real mountain cave, Zhang Sanlu and his companions had walked forward without turning back, without encountering any side passages, and without a second cave—how could they have returned to where they started?

Silence reigned; each person could hear their own heartbeat, and the heavy breathing of their companions nearby.

“Ghost… the ghosts have trapped us,” Zheng Ji said, shrinking into a corner, trembling.

Guo Qi’s breathing grew heavy, and he muttered, “Impossible, how can this be! Two identical caves? No, no, I don’t believe it, you’re lying to me! I’ll walk it again!”

Suddenly, he turned, pulling his wolfdog, Jinbiao, and rushed into the tunnel.

“Guo Qi, come back, don’t go alone!” Lao Yao called, but Guo Qi, who never paid him any mind, ignored his plea.

Footsteps echoed away into the darkness. Zhang Sanlu said nothing, instead turning his head to listen intently for Guo Qi’s movements.

Ten steps… Thirty… Fifty… Seventy… Ninety… His pace slowed as he rounded the first bend, footsteps fading, growing distant and sluggish, until they were barely audible.

Moments passed, and the sound vanished altogether, only the faintest hints of a dog’s bark lingering before silence swallowed everything.

Zheng Ji tried to speak, but Zhang Sanlu raised a hand, signaling him to wait.

After a while, footsteps were heard again—this time, disordered and unsteady, like a drunk stumbling, the sound growing weaker until all was quiet.

Those waiting anxiously outside the cave exchanged worried glances, none daring to speak. Why had Guo Qi not returned? Had he truly found a way out?

Zhang Sanlu and Lao Yao shared a look, then Lao Yao, torch in hand, ran into the cave, Zhang Sanlu following close behind, and the other two rushed in after them.

The first bend was swiftly passed, but as they reached the second curve, they saw in the darkness a figure huddled in a corner.

Startled, they raised their torches to illuminate the shape.

It was not some demonic apparition, but Guo Qi, crouched near the bend, hands clasped tightly to his head, fingers dug deep into his hair, gripping it fiercely, his torch lost somewhere in the gloom.

No matter who spoke to him, he gave no response; his eyes were wild and lost, his mouth mumbling over and over,

“Impossible… Impossible…”

“Where’s the dog?” Guo Dashu asked suddenly.

They shone their torches around, but Jinbiao was nowhere to be found, not even a bark or the sound of panting—only Guo Qi, still muttering, “Impossible… Impossible…”

The others felt Guo Qi had broken down. In this endless, dark cave, it seemed inevitable that they would all succumb to despair.

They helped Guo Qi to his feet, and Lao Yao spoke suddenly.

“Don’t panic. Listen to the priest. He is learned and wise; we still have hope.”

“That’s right, the master has surely faced far stranger and more dangerous things before. Last time at the graveyard… that was a hundred times more perilous. With him here, we will find a way out!” Zheng Ji chimed in, as if reassuring himself.

In such circumstances, having someone to rely on was crucial; otherwise, collapse was only a matter of time. Only Zhang Sanlu could bear such a burden.

As these words were spoken, all eyes turned to Zhang Sanlu, and in the torchlight, hope flickered once more in their gaze.

But Zhang Sanlu was reminded at that moment of the events in the Human Pill Cave at Tongxuan Temple. Even now, he was unsure whether those were illusions or reality, whether someone had guided him out. Yet the situation bore certain similarities.

He took up Lao Yao’s words: “Yes, I do have some experience. The most important thing is to remain calm, no matter what happens.” He paused, then added, “If it’s the ghosts blocking our way, I’ve heard of a method to break through.”

He recounted the method he’d heard from Man Shan and others about dealing with ghostly barriers.

Whether or not it would work, it could do no harm. The others acted at once: Zheng Ji and Guo Dashu loosened their belts and urinated into the darkness.

Even though Zhang Sanlu’s advice offered little substance, it calmed everyone somewhat.

Perhaps it was the presence of people and light, but Guo Qi regained a bit of composure, and they were about to comfort him.

Suddenly, he cried out loudly, startling everyone.

“Guo Xiaoshu! Guo Xiaoshu is alive!”