Shattered rocks clattered down in a chaotic cascade, the sound occasionally accompanied by faint splashes of water—but those were soon drowned out by the panicked cries of fleeing people.
Far below the bottomless abyss, a current of water flowed. Then came the splash of something falling in.
Chu Qianli didn’t spare a thought for whether the stone had hit the mechanism, nor whether she would be struck by bullets. She leapt from the Pillar of Severity through the cover of the explosion’s smoke, ignoring whatever dangers awaited below—nothing but a fearless gamble.
She didn’t have time to divine the outcome. A person being judged should not cast a reading.
If one were to interpret this day by the hexagrams alone, today was destined to be her great calamity. Whether she cast a reading or not didn’t matter anymore.
Fortunately, at the bottom of the chasm, there was an underground river.
Chu Qianli choked violently as she plunged into the river, struggling to regain control of her body, but she was so exhausted that she kept sinking.
She fought desperately to reach the surface, only to be swept away by the raging current. The water tossed her around like a powerless boat in a storm, directionless and out of control.
Meanwhile, within the chasm, the sixth orb had successfully been placed. The passageways near the Pillars of Mercy and Balance opened up, allowing Abner and Tan Muxing to escape.
The construction here was like the other parts of the ruins—so long as the puzzle was solved and one remained within the safe zone, there would always be a way out unscathed.
The passage was eerily silent as the two regrouped.
Abner lowered his head and checked the communication device, frowning. “Lin disobeyed Q’s orders and brought in his people. He even collaborated with Country A to launch a surprise attack. The next step will likely be a direct move toward the Gate of Truth!”
If Lin managed to seize the key before it was placed, he would have the leverage to renegotiate the terms. But if he failed to capture the key or if the placement was already complete, then an all-out battle at the Gate of Truth would be inevitable.
Q had already stationed his forces in the hall to protect the integrity of the ruins, likely anticipating the power shift within Mondsen. The adult wolves could no longer tolerate the current state of affairs, eagerly challenging the wolf king for dominance.
“I’m going down to find her first.” Tan Muxing, unable to reach Chu Qianli and seeing no sign of her entering the passage, made a snap decision to head toward the Pillar of Severity. A strange unease gnawed at him, and her earlier words echoed in his mind.
Abner called out, “Wait, aren’t you going to head up and regroup with the team first?!”
The passage offered two directions—upward led to Liu Jun and the others, while downward led to the Pillar of Severity, where Chu Qianli had been.
“I’ll message them,” Tan Muxing replied.
Without looking back, he rushed downward. He didn’t spot Chu Qianli anywhere along the way and quickly realized the Pillar of Severity had descended an extraordinary depth. It took him quite some time to finally reach the bottom.
The area around the Pillar of Severity was like a hellscape engulfed in karmic fire. Occasional explosions still erupted, sending debris flying and raising clouds of dust.
After the earlier chaos, many people had already fled the scene, but the raging fire still showed signs of spreading.
Tan Muxing, drawing his handgun, sent a message to Liu Jun, reporting on the situation near the Pillar of Severity. The gun had been given to him by Liu Jun—after learning that Tan Muxing could shoot, Liu Jun had advised him to keep it hidden during his stay in H Country.
Lilith and Lin forcibly broke through the mountain wall, causing the mechanisms inside to be affected. The originally designed safe zone was no longer effective.
The scorching air burned faces painfully. Tan Muxing could barely see others through the dust. Everyone else was avoiding the fire sparks bursting at the center, but he was moving against the smoke, steadily approaching the imposing pillar of the ravine.
The bombing near the imposing pillar was the most terrifying; by now, no one remained there.
Tan Muxing still hadn’t seen Chu Qianli; his heart remained suspended. But when he picked up the blood-stained colored rope on the imposing pillar, his expression instantly became dazed, as if falling into an ice cave.
Though the surrounding heat waves surged, he suddenly felt a chill down his back.
This was made by her in the Shaman Village; she later wore it on her wrist. It wasn’t worth much, but she never took it off regardless of what she did, so it was always with her.
Now, the bracelet inexplicably snapped and was left alone on the pillar, stained with blood.
Tan Muxing looked down; the abyss was utterly dark, like the terrifying wide mouth of a monster, seemingly ready to swallow her whole at any moment.
Tick-tock, tick-tock. Amidst the explosions, there was a faint sound.
Tan Muxing listened carefully for several seconds. After checking his gear, he leapt down from the imposing pillar and began exploring the area along the mountain wall below.
Inside the dark river, Chu Qianli was being tossed about helplessly. She wanted to cast a divination to find direction, but the rapid current made it impossible to focus.
She didn’t know where she had drifted along the river. She only knew that she had reached the end of the river channel and saw a pitch-black mountain wall, hitting it hard enough to numb her arm.
She tried to cling to the mountain wall and move toward the shore, but this place was a violent water outlet, and she was stuck tightly against the rock, unable to move her body.
She was like a small branch lying across the center of the river channel, too far from either shore, shivering miserably in the water.
After a long stalemate, she completely exhausted her strength.
She was swept into the underwater outlet of the river and could no longer breathe air from the surface. She could only slowly sink into the silent abyss.
Underwater was extremely quiet.
She weakly opened her eyes at the bottom. The water in the dark river was clear and transparent. The underwater stone walls were covered with murals, identical to the patterns inside the tunnel.
This was not good news—it meant she could not cast divinations. Such murals interfered with her.
However, it seemed there was no need to cast a divination now. Her physical strength had long since run out, and in this sealed underwater space, there was no way to retreat.
She felt the world before her slow down like an old film. As her strength waned, her mind became empty.
At first, she felt the discomfort of drowning and suffocation, but gradually, she began to lose consciousness. It felt like her body and mind were separating.
She could skim through the complicated murals with superhuman speed, letting the massive and chaotic information wash over her, but no longer felt pain. Perhaps her pain threshold had been reached, or maybe she was about to abandon this body.
God forbade Adam and Eve from eating the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, saying that if they ate it, they would die. Some say this means Adam and Eve lost immortality and began to experience birth, aging, sickness, and death; others say that what died was their “spiritual life.”
Chu Qianli did not know what this “spiritual life” meant in theistic terms, but she deeply understood that her physical body was about to die, and only her consciousness could still wander freely.
It is said that when a person is near death, they experience illusions. Even struggling underwater for just a few seconds can feel like a century due to the terror of drowning.
That was exactly how she felt—underwater, she saw the new millennium.
She saw the brightest star in the sky, the North Star; the first human to observe the stars; countless people gathered around campfires practicing shamanism; the elderly man stroking his beard on the observatory; someone guiding the natives in building the Baby Stone relics; Jesus nailed to the cross; the symbol of the Rosicrucian Order…
She saw persecution, plagues, and conflicts, endless bloody massacres, from cold weapons to information warfare, and even the future beyond human reach.
She saw the red Baby Stone dug up, the peaceful and pure H country covered by lava, the scorched earth with no trace of ancient civilizations. High-tech weapons reduced the place to rubble, war spreading rapidly until no grass grew where humans lived.
She saw the Five Stars Rising from the East and the fall of great nations.
She saw the chaos of all beings.
Countless religions have similar descriptions of the apocalypse, but the Day of Judgment was different from human imagination. It did not suddenly explode on a single day but quietly infiltrated, and when people truly realized it, it was already irreversible.
At this moment, she understood the reason for building the relics.
What flourishes must decline. Mastering everything prematurely also means death begins.
Humanity was not yet ready but greedily dug up the Baby Stone like Adam and Eve prematurely picking the fruit of knowledge. It merely accelerated the original survival progress bar infinitely.
Covetous of short-term progress without restraint, they unwittingly compressed the length of future possibilities.
The existence of the relics was precisely to guard the Baby Stone, patiently waiting for the truly appropriate time to open it.
However, the relics were also man-made. As time progressed, the star constellations changed, so someone needed to continuously repair the installations within the relics and calibrate the exact moment to open the Gate of Truth.
The Baby Stone relics were indeed not yet complete. The seventh pearl was the final calibration; only after that would the true opening occur.
They were gathered here by fate, not to mine the Baby Stone, but to select the final guardian who would complete the setting of the seventh pearl.
But was she the one chosen?
Chu Qianli’s consciousness darkened. She finally deciphered the murals but it seemed to be too late.
Before her awareness blurred, she thought of Xingxing (Star).
Only now did she admit to herself that she had lied to him.
The claim of having no regrets or remorse was merely a facade of indifference.
Beside the dark river, Tan Muxing searched downstream. When he saw the outlet, he immediately sensed something was wrong and dived in to look for her. Sure enough, he faintly saw her figure.
She seemed to have lost consciousness, looking fragile and breakable, like an overturned small boat.
Tan Muxing dragged her toward the shore. He passed through the rushing outlet and quickly brought her up, confirmed her airway was clear, and immediately began rescue efforts.
At this moment, he dared not think about anything, not even checking her pulse; he could only focus fully on saving her.
But her body was so cold, eyes quietly closed, completely lacking the vitality she once had.
She seemed asleep, but even a sleeping person breathes. Her breathing was so shallow it was undetectable, like a lifeless porcelain doll.
Tan Muxing summoned his rescue experience from memory, forcing himself to believe this was only an apparent drowning, and rescuers must have confidence and patience, never give up easily, and persist with resuscitation.
She only temporarily lost her heartbeat; that did not mean she had no chance.
He didn’t dare to imagine the drowning fatality rate beyond 10 minutes, nor did he know how long she had been underwater.
If only he had been faster, if only he could calculate better, if only he had followed her inseparably—then she wouldn’t have suffered this.
He insisted on coming with her to H country, but in the end, nothing changed.
He never had grand ambitions; the reason for setting out was unusually simple. He just wanted to accompany her back to ordinary days, but even this small wish could not be fulfilled.
A long time passed, and she still had not woken.
Tan Muxing performed CPR while feeling a slight warmth—but it did not come from her; it was his own unstoppable tears.
Tick-tock.
Chu Qianli tried to raise her arm, but her whole body was heavy. She felt her consciousness and body were disconnected, as if each was doing its own thing.
She wanted to call out to Xingxing, but couldn’t open her mouth.
She wanted to say that Xingxing’s tears were sweet.
So sweet. So very sweet.
Tan Muxing sensed a faint breath. He looked up in disbelief, and a light finally welled up in his eyes. He dared not stop the rescue efforts.
Although her pulse was extremely weak, unlike the still water moments ago, it was undeniably still faintly beating!
