Chapter Thirty-Seven: Choice

After calming down a bit, I suddenly noticed that the elevation of these paths differed, arranged one above the other in tiers. The road before us was at the center, with the sides forming a kind of stepped structure.

“This is a mechanism. The original path spreads apart when triggered, and these iron chains are the axis for the dozen or so routes,” Peanut suddenly said.

“But those are stone slab roads—what kind of mechanism could possibly pull them apart?” one of the men asked.

“It’s not as difficult as you imagine. The real challenge is the support for these roads. It’s obvious that the builders of this tomb didn’t want anyone to get inside,” Qin Feng replied.

I was at a loss. Being confronted with such a situation was truly beyond anything I’d anticipated. The dangers we faced were secondary—the real issue was that we didn’t have much time to figure out which path was the correct one. If Second Uncle and the others weren’t trapped, we could split our group into over a dozen teams. It wouldn’t be safe, but at least the chances of finding my father would be greater. Now, though, we were only six. Even if each of us took a separate path, it still wouldn’t be enough. Unless we could find the mechanism and bring all the roads back together, the six of us would be left to stumble blindly, hoping for luck.

A sudden thought came to me, and I looked at Peanut. “Can’t you smell corpses? Couldn’t you sniff out which path ahead has the heaviest scent of death?”

I knew this was wishful thinking, but at that moment I had to cling to anything that offered hope. Yet Peanut didn’t even bother to argue; he just shook his head.

If even resourceful men like Peanut and Qin Feng were at a loss, then I, all the more, had no idea what to do. We all gazed ahead in silence, watching the light from the flare slowly dim.

What should we do?

I gripped my head, wishing I could claw my own brain out. Qin Feng seemed about to say something, but the words died in his throat, replaced by a curse. Clearly, he too had no solution for our predicament.

“You decide,” Peanut suddenly said, looking at me.

“Me?” I stared at him, stunned.

Peanut went on, “Your goal is to rescue Master Yuan, but right now we don’t have any effective means left. For Master Yuan, this is practically a dead end. Before, everyone could follow Qin Feng’s lead, but now, you’re the one most qualified to speak. You decide, and we’ll all follow.”

At his words, everyone looked at me. Peanut’s reasoning was brutally pragmatic: in times of despair, only desperate measures remain. Only then does despair not become absolute—at least there’s still a chance to fight. And the one most closely tied to our goal should be the one to make the call.

In other words, whatever we did next would be directly linked to my father’s fate. The burden of such a decision—one akin to a verdict on my father’s life—was something neither Qin Feng nor anyone else could bear.

After a moment’s hesitation, Qin Feng said, “He’s right, young master. Tell us which way, and that’s what we’ll do.”

Qin Feng and the others worried for my father no less than I did, but in the end, I was still his son. When no one else could decide, I was the one who had to take a stand.

We had no idea how long these dozen or so paths extended, no idea where they led, and not a clue which one might take us to my father. In such a situation, all we could do, honestly, was rely on luck.

Do your utmost, and leave the rest to fate. Only now did I truly understand the helplessness hidden within that old saying.

I felt crushed by the pressure. Decide? Of course I could choose a path—but what if it didn’t lead us to my father? What if we got trapped behind the one I picked? What if the path I chose collapsed halfway through? When every possible outcome seemed more likely than actually finding my father, my mind filled with terrifying possibilities.

To decide life or death with a single word—such a responsibility was more than I could bear. At that thought, I instinctively shrank back, wanting to hand the decision to Qin Feng, to Peanut, even to one of the other men. That way, when the worst came, I might feel less tormented. Though this was a deeply selfish impulse, such human frailty still gnawed at my heart.

…“Yuan, don’t be afraid.” Suddenly, in a daze, I heard my father’s voice in my head. I remembered back when my mother left us, how I was so afraid, waking up night after night from nightmares. My father would sit by my bed, waiting for me to wake so he could comfort me. He was a straightforward man, not one for comforting words; every time, he would just pat my head and say, “Yuan, don’t be afraid.”

…Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid. That’s right—at a time like this, I couldn’t let fear take over.

After silently studying the five faces before me for a long while, I took a deep breath, clenched my jaw, and slowly raised my right hand, pointing down the steps.

“The two middle paths. We’ll split into two groups of three, each group taking one path.” With those words, I felt all my strength drain away. My father’s life, the lives of everyone with me—perhaps all were about to be changed by this decision. I’d chosen those two paths on instinct, but I knew that if someone else had chosen, it would have been two others anyway.

Perhaps my expression betrayed me, because Qin Feng seemed to see right through my mood. He came over and said, “If I were in your place, I might not dare make a choice either. Young master, don’t overthink it. We won’t know what’s ahead until we walk it—maybe these dozen paths all connect at the end.”

“Mm.” I gave a simple reply, hoping he was right.

At this, Old Tan spoke up, “No matter what, I’ll stick with Yuan Jie and Master Hua.”

Qin Feng shot him a glare, then turned to me. “Young master, I think you’d better come with me. It’s safer.”

I knew Qin Feng didn’t quite trust Peanut, but I shook my head. “I’ll go with them. You and the other two know places like this better—your group will move faster, and that means a better chance of finding my father.”

“But…” Qin Feng glanced at Peanut.

“It’s all right, don’t worry. Finding my father is what matters most now.” I nodded firmly at him.

Qin Feng sighed, then turned to Peanut with a grave expression. “I’m leaving my young master in your hands.”

Peanut cracked a crooked smile. “I can’t promise anything.”

Qin Feng merely snorted and waved for one of the men to hand me a pack. This way, our group of three had two packs’ worth of supplies, while Qin Feng’s group was left with only one.

Seeing my hesitation, Qin Feng said, “Just as you said, we’ll move fast. Even if we run out of food, we can just turn back—Second Uncle and the others are still behind us.”

Despite his words, I knew from Qin Feng’s temperament that unless he found my father, he’d never turn back. It was clear that, to him, my father was all that mattered. He would risk everything to save him.

Before I could say anything, Qin Feng turned away, quickly leading the other two down the steps formed by the uneven stone paths, disappearing into the darkness.

Peanut gave me a pat and started off as well.

“Come on, Old Yuan. If this is a dead end, at least we can make other plans,” Old Tan said.

I nodded and followed after Peanut. The path we’d chosen was right at the center of the fan-shaped tomb passage, a simple logic on my part. I figured the tomb passage should run straight, with the other paths fanning outward from the middle—so the central road ought to be the original one. Yet, the further we walked, the less certain I became.

At first, we paid all our attention to what lay ahead. But after ten minutes or so, I began to feel as if the road sloped downward. When we’d looked from the side before, we couldn’t see the end, but we were sure all the roads were straight. Now, however, the downward tilt was unmistakable.

Peanut and Old Tan seemed to notice it too, and all three of us slowed our pace.

“Are you sure this is the right way? It feels like we’ve been heading downhill the whole time,” I said anxiously, glancing at Peanut.

Peanut shook his head lightly. “Up, down—it doesn’t matter. Even if you turn back now, you could still choose wrong. So we might as well keep going and find out what’s at the end of this road.”

With that, Peanut picked up his pace again. As we went on, the slope grew steeper. Peanut didn’t seem to mind, but Old Tan and I struggled. With cliffs on either side, a single misstep would send us straight to our deaths. We had to keep three to five meters between each of us, so no one would knock another down if he slipped.

(Next week’s supernatural recommendation—if you have space on your bookshelf or extra votes, please support Old Bei. Thank you.)