Seeking Truth with a Sword

"Board the boat."

Jiao Cheng waved his hand, and everyone boarded the three wooden boats.

Di Wu stood at the bow. He moved aside the iron chains fastened to the wooden boat, allowing the other two to pick up oars and paddle, steering the boat along the cave walls. He then lifted an open-mouthed jar from the bottom of the boat and dipped a brush into it.

As the wooden boat moved forward, Di Wu used the brush to apply an intermittent dashed line high up on the wall.

Is that... Fluorescent Powder?

Li Ang squinted. The cave walls touched by the brush faintly sparkled with a dim green light.

There are even fainter traces of Fluorescent Powder ahead in the cave, proving Jiao Cheng and the others aren't here for the first time—they've explored many times before, using Fluorescent Powder to mark the route. Since Fluorescent Powder fades over time, it needs to be reapplied multiple times. And this Dark River... both the cave ceiling and the upper walls show signs of long-term water erosion. That proves the water level is usually very high; only now has it receded enough for boats to pass.

Indeed, just as Li Ang had anticipated, the three boats continued to sail forward, choosing their path using the Fluorescent Powder markings whenever they encountered a fork in the river.

The shape of an underground river is controlled by geological structures and fissures. Surface seasons, rainfall, and geological collapses can all affect its shape, making the terrain extremely complex. Within the same aquifer lay multiple interconnected dark rivers—some rapid, some slow; some flowing upward, others downward—with countless forks. Losing one's way could have unthinkable consequences.

In the oppressive space, it seemed only the sound of water remained.

Everyone held torches, breathing the damp air heavily, constantly wiping away the droplets that dripped onto their heads and faces from the cave ceiling.

Not knowing how far they had traveled, when Di Wu had used up the second jar of Fluorescent Powder, they finally saw a light at a bend in the river ahead.

"We've arrived."

Di Wu let out a long breath, steering the wooden boat towards the light.

There was a relatively flat riverbank where seven or eight torches were planted. About a dozen tattooed men stood there, all wearing hard leather armor that balanced defense and mobility. They had Broadswords at their sides, metal shields in hand, and powerful crossbows like Jiao Cheng's on their backs. They didn't seem like the ruffians guarding Pingkang Square, but more like a band of desperate outlaws.

"Jiao Da."

"Jiao Da."

The tattooed men crowded around, helping Jiao Cheng down from the boat.

Li Ang got off the boat as well, his gaze drawn to the many supplies piled on the riverbank: grappling hooks for climbing; Kerosene for illumination; steel nails and Large Hammers for chiseling boulders; hemp ropes, bamboo ladders, Compasses...

And in the distance on the riverbank, he could vaguely see a cliff, and beneath it, two massive shadows crouched on the ground.

Could that be... Tomb Guardian Beasts?

Li Ang narrowed his eyes in astonishment. The two shadows beneath the cliff were two stone Tomb Guardian Beasts with human faces and animal bodies. They were nearly four meters tall, pitch-black without any paint, their lifelike human heads featuring wide-open mouths that revealed sharp teeth. The lower half of their animal bodies was covered in sharp spikes and peculiar, inexplicable diamond-shaped patterns.

"Let's go."

Jiao Cheng, supported by his men, walked towards the Tomb Guardian Beasts. From their conversation, Li Ang learned the names of the two Sword Cultivators: Fan Guangyu and Zhu Yuyin.

Everyone carried their packs towards the cliff. As they drew closer, Li Ang saw a tall, open stone portal between the two Tomb Guardian Beasts. Beyond it lay a passage sloping upward. From deep within the passage, the sound of fierce winds howled. The rumbling echoed off the passage walls, like the roaring and hissing of some wild beast.

Jiao Cheng and the others held torches, climbing upward along the passage. Halfway up, they stopped as a group and took out oddly shaped... breathing masks from their packs.

These devices consisted of a mask, an air hose, and a backpack.

The mask was made of bamboo on the outside and a layer of fish-bladder-like gel material on the inside. It was designed to fit over the mouth, with strings at the back to secure it around the ears and prevent it from falling off.

On the right side of the mask, a hollow, lignified vine connected it to a cylindrical tree stump housed in the metal backpack.

"This is the tree stump of the Zhang Island Ghost Rong—a Fourth-class Demon—and the aerial roots that grow from it," Jiao Cheng leisurely explained to Li Ang, while his men helped him put on his backpack. "Once worn, it allows for underwater breathing for two quarter-hours. It's an important tool for the inhabitants of Zhang Island on the Endless Sea. I spent thirty thousand strings of coins to buy these at the Ghost Market."

Underwater breathing?

Li Ang's suspicions grew clearer, especially after noticing that the two Sword Cultivators also donned the backpacks.

He took the spare metal backpack Di Wu handed him, put it on, and fitted himself with the breathing mask.

The group resumed their climb up the passage. The further they went, the more intensely they could feel the fierce winds raging.

The air grew thinner.

Li Ang's breathing instinctively grew heavier. Following Di Wu and the others, he climbed out of the narrow passage.

This was an incredibly spacious, circular underground hall.

The floor at the center of the hall was flat and tidy, with no visible debris. By the torchlight, one could vaguely see a bronze door embedded in the floor at the hall's center.

The walls of the hall, however, were riddled with honeycomb-like holes, each over a meter in diameter. Above each hole was a thick, hollow metal plate, etched with bizarre and varied patterns.