TGA Chapter 119

When Liu Jun heard she was going to place the key, he looked down at the time and said, “The support team still needs some time to get here. You all can go take a look today—it doesn’t necessarily have to be successfully placed right away.”

“It might not be appropriate to go in right now,” a base staff member explained. “It’s too dark. The lighting in there is terrible. Even when we went in during the day after cleaning, we couldn’t see clearly even with the lights on.”

“We suspect the rock walls have special properties, possibly absorbing light.”

A while later, the group arrived at the compass placement site.

As they passed through a narrow corridor, a sense of pressure from the rock walls began to settle over them. Deep blackness spread through their vision, like ink, with only a few beams of light filtering in from the crevices above.

However, as daylight gradually faded, the remaining rays of light were swallowed up, leaving only a pitch-black space that occasionally echoed.

Under strong illumination, faint outlines of rock could be seen—but nothing very clearly.

“This isn’t that eerie kind of darkness you get in haunted houses,” Mei Rujing said. “This is the kind of black where it’s like closing your eyes completely.”

“In a little while it’ll be even darker, probably pitch black, which is why we said it’s not suitable to go in now.”

A few beams of light swept across the ruins, suddenly passing over a familiar stone pillar.

“Wait—what’s that?” Chu Qianli, sharp-eyed, noticed something unusual. She quickly asked the staff to shine the light back there. Not far off, a stone pillar was concealed in the shadows—easy to overlook.

In front of the Gate of Truth, a similar stone pillar was used to place a crystal ball. This pillar had a similar hollowed-out area, just the right size to insert the compass.

Chu Qianli took out the compass and fit it snugly into the slot.

The next second, a faint rumble came from underground. Something in the darkness had been triggered. The people on the ground felt a slight numbness in their feet and instinctively took a few steps back.

Several minutes later, the strange vibrations finally ceased, but there was no visible change inside the ruins.

Liu Jun looked around in confusion. “Did anything change? I can’t see clearly.”

The compass placement site was so dark that you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face. At least in the peachwood sword cave, they could still use lights—but here, even the lighting devices had their effectiveness diminished.

Chu Qianli tried to investigate the area, but before she could walk more than a couple of steps, she somehow tripped over her own feet and almost fell flat. Fortunately, she only bumped into Tan Muxing, who steadied her with a quick hand.

She instinctively looked down and said in confusion, “There wasn’t anything here just now, was there?”

When they walked through earlier, the ground had clearly been smooth—yet now there seemed to be an obstacle.

Xu Zaiyuan added, “There’s something extra on my side, too.”

After the tremors, the ground in the ruins seemed to have shifted.

“What if we turn off the lights?” Chu Qianli thought of the compass’s function and made a connection to Ziwei astrology. She quickly said, “Can we try turning off all the lighting devices?”

“We can…” a staff member replied helplessly, “But then it’ll be completely dark.”

“Let’s turn them off.”

The next moment, the lights went out, and darkness fell like a curtain.

Everyone expected only a deep and empty void to remain within their field of vision—but to their surprise, thousands of golden threads began to flow in the dimness, spreading out beneath their feet like a vast and magnificent landscape painting!

Once the compass had been placed on the pillar, a mechanism in the ground was activated. Faintly glowing, jagged rocks joined together on the surface to form mountains and rivers. In the dim light, they appeared and disappeared like an intertwining galaxy of blue and green.

It looked just like standing on an electronic display floor in a museum—except the scene wasn’t built by cutting-edge tech, but by seemingly ordinary minerals and the wisdom of the ancients.

The rocks resembled a micro-scale sandbox, containing the essence of the mountains and rivers.

These luminous minerals only sparkled brilliantly in darkness, creating the breathtaking scene before them. If the surrounding light was too bright, their special nature would go unnoticed—they would just appear to be ordinary gray stone.

“How beautiful,” the others gasped in awe. “It’s practically a work of art!”

“It’s clearly a map, but it looks just like the starry sky.”

As everyone gradually adjusted to the initial darkness, they were captivated by the soft glow and began to praise it enthusiastically.

Chu Qianli clicked her tongue in admiration. “Only star people like us would have this kind of aesthetic. We’re total romantics in the divination world—way more pleasing than shooting sneak attacks or building spell arrays.”

Mei Rujing, expressionless, pinched her cheek. “What sneak attacks?”

“Mmff—mmff…” Chu Qianli groaned as her face was squished.

Tan Muxing quickly stepped in to mediate. “She’s just a kid, still a kid.”

“Which is why we can’t let her off.”

“…”

Finally free from the pinching, Chu Qianli returned her focus to the glowing map. She carefully avoided the obstacles on the ground and rushed to the stone pillar.

“Is this a Feng Shui formation?” Xu Zaiyuan asked as he observed the cracks between the surface rocks. His sharp instincts kicked in. “These pieces can be moved.”

The map before them resembled both a jigsaw puzzle and a Nine-Palace Grid game. And the Nine Palaces originated from the Hetu and Luoshu. According to legend, the Hetu and Luoshu embody cosmic principles and star patterns, known as the “cosmic Rubik’s cube”—they are even said to be the origin of Chinese civilization.

In Ziwei Doushu (Purple Star Astrology), there is a school known as the Ziwei Heluo School, which has deep connections with the Hetu and Luoshu diagrams.

“But something still seems to be missing. I did the calculations, but it feels like the pieces don’t add up,” Xu Zaiyuan said as he pinched his fingers in divination, looking at the tiles at his feet. He felt that some information was lacking.

Chu Qianli waved her hand with ease. “This place is deep water, young man—you can’t handle it. Better let me do it.”

Xu Zaiyuan: “?”

Chu Qianli ran over to the compass and started fiddling with it. With Tan Muxing’s help, she moved two pieces of the map. She then scanned the whole layout and looked up at the sky visible through the opening above. “The next move will have to wait an hour.”

Xu Zaiyuan followed her gaze and saw the gaps in the ceiling that let in air. Suddenly, he understood. “It’s the starlight.”

Chu Qianli nodded. “Exactly. The ‘river’ in Hetu represents the Milky Way—the cosmos. If we want to reassemble this place correctly, we have to wait for the starlight to fall.”

“Looks like we won’t be able to leave anytime soon. This can’t be completed during the day—it has to wait for nightfall.”

The openings above the map were perfectly aligned to let in starlight, which could only be captured in absolute darkness. When combined with the glowing mineral-based map, they could then uncover the secrets behind the mechanism.

The only drawback was that they had to wait for the external starlight—it wasn’t time yet.

Everyone stepped off the map to avoid interfering with Chu Qianli’s puzzle-solving and moved aside to rest, leaving the space to someone who truly understood the system.

As the sky darkened, Liu Jun organized a meal for the group—simple but warm food.

Inside the base, Tan Muxing carefully packed the dishes into a thermal container. He also filled a bottle with hot soup and said, “I’ll bring it in for her.”

Chu Qianli was still by the stone pillar, working on the puzzle and unable to leave at the moment.

Inside the ruins, it was pitch black, with only the glow of minerals and the faint starlight—nothing else was visible.

Relying on memory, Tan Muxing found his way to the stone pillar, only to discover no one was nearby.

His expression immediately changed. Panic set in as he searched around in a fluster, not knowing where Chu Qianli had gone. In the process of turning, he accidentally knocked the thermal container against the stone pillar with a sharp clink.

“Xingxing?” (Star?)

In the darkness, someone was lying flat on the glowing map. Hearing the noise near the stone pillar, she called out tentatively.

Recognizing her voice, Tan Muxing let out a long breath of relief. He walked over with the food in hand. “Why’d you move over here?”

“Let’s eat first.” Seeing Chu Qianli curled up on the ground, Tan Muxing simply sat down beside her, leaning against her as he handed over the lunchbox and soup container. “You can keep working after you eat.”

“It’s actually already done. It’s just that the mechanism won’t activate until the starlight falls.” Chu Qianli unscrewed the soup bottle and took a small sip of the hot soup, murmuring softly, “Xingxing, you seemed panicked when you came in, didn’t you?”

Chu Qianli had been inside the ruins for a while, and her eyes had already adapted to the darkness, so she could naturally see Tan Muxing’s movements. The moment he didn’t find her near the stone pillar, he panicked—if she hadn’t called out to him, he would’ve bolted out in the next second.

Since the starlight hadn’t yet reached the right timing, the two took the opportunity to chat.

“I thought you had disappeared again.” Tan Muxing had only gone out briefly to get food, but when he came back and didn’t see her, he was nearly scared out of his wits.

Hearing this, Chu Qianli was slightly stunned. Something seemed to cross her mind, and she suddenly fell silent, not responding immediately.

The light around them was dim, so Tan Muxing couldn’t see her expression. He spoke calmly, “Now I don’t even dare to separate from you casually.”

Chu Qianli muttered, “Why?”

Tan Muxing hesitated, suddenly growing vague, as if it was hard to say.

“Come on, tell me!”

“I’m afraid you’ll say I bullied you, hit me…” Tan Muxing mumbled, his eyes drifting away, voice growing faint, “And then bite me again.”

The big white bear still hadn’t forgotten the unjust suffering—he honestly couldn’t figure out when he had ever been mean to her.

Chu Qianli was momentarily startled, then she eagerly tugged at his sleeve, curious. “You still remember that? Let me see!”

“That just happened today—how could I forget so quickly?” Tan Muxing muttered. Seeing her tugging on his sleeve, he tried to gently dissuade her, “Just eat first.”

“Let me see, let me see! Is there still a mark?”

“It’s long gone.”

She had bitten very lightly in the first place, not even leaving a trace.

Chu Qianli insisted on pulling up his sleeve and even shone a flashlight on it, then looked disappointed. “Really gone.”

A strange feeling welled up in her heart.

Turns out there really was very little she could leave behind—and it vanished in less than a day, let alone over the course of years.

Even the mark she’d left on him had been so shallow.

“…You seem kind of regretful?”

“Mm. Then I’ll just bite you again.”

“!!?”

The air suddenly turned tender and warm.

In the dimness, Tan Muxing felt her lean closer, his face instantly flushed, ears burning, and he became flustered. He could feel her warm breath brushing against his skin and instinctively wanted to back away, but he didn’t want to refuse her out loud, caught in a dilemma.

He didn’t understand why she was so obsessed with the bite mark, like a mischievous, cunning cat, slowly closing in, always finding ways to tease him.

Chu Qianli deliberately lifted the big white bear’s arm, pretending she was about to give it another bite—but she didn’t follow through. In the end, she put down his arm and teased, “Just kidding.”

Tan Muxing’s heart had been pulled up and down by the suspense, and now that she said that, he didn’t even know what to feel. She really was like an arrogant and proud cat, casually stepping on someone with her paw and then nonchalantly walking away.

In the deep darkness, neither could see the other’s expression, but he could clearly hear her playful tone.

She returned his earlier words back at him, joking: “Xingxing, you seem kind of regretful?”

“You…”

Even someone as gentle as Tan Muxing could tell this was another kind of teasing.

He simply shifted to sit a little farther to the side, trying to hide his pounding heartbeat—but he couldn’t hide the redness of his ears. In a muffled voice, he said, “I’m not talking to you for a whole minute.”