Volume One, Chapter 19: A Narrow Escape

Master rarely makes promises, but whenever he pounds his chest in assurance, I feel confident enough to follow through. My suspicious nature seems utterly disarmed by him.

"Let's trust his words. Let's go," I said, stepping toward the stone gate engraved with the words "Hangu Pass," signaling my resolve to those around.

Although Master was the main leader, the final decision-making power rested with me.

After a brief hesitation, everyone had no choice but to follow closely.

Together, we pushed open the stone gate of Hangu Pass and found ourselves facing a steeper uphill path.

This stretch of slope was peculiar. The height of each stone step varied significantly, and the entire surface slanted sharply, shaped like an inverted funnel. Moss covered the steps in green; the further we advanced, the more expansive the cave walls became. We were clearly at the narrow mouth of the funnel.

I ran my hand along the stone walls. My extremely sensitive skin could distinctly feel the silent transformation of the stone: the originally uneven underwater reef rocks were growing increasingly regular and robust.

Basalt, volcanic rock, and obsidian rich in sulfides began to appear frequently in our sight, eventually filling both sides of the cave walls. Further up, I felt thick, hardened mud mixed with mineralized tree trunks, as solid as fossils. Undoubtedly, over more than a thousand years, they had been repeatedly washed by rain and dried by wind.

"The internal structure here is very similar to that of a dead volcanic island in the Atlantic," Master said from behind, chatting endlessly. "Back in ’01, I was on a mission drifting in the Atlantic for two months. We had to steer submarines clear of those islands; a collision would wreck the sub, far worse than underwater reefs..."

"But we're in the Pacific," I said without turning.

"Haha, don’t talk about divisions like that. The oceans are a community of fate," he replied.

"Master, you really are noisy," I muttered.

"Alright, alright, no more noise. Let’s walk briskly," Master Qi said, taking a few steps ahead.

"What's the rush? We've passed all the traps. The exit should be just ahead," I glanced at the exhausted archaeologists behind me, intentionally slowing to let them catch up.

Ordinary people have limited stamina, unlike us, who train daily like special forces.

"Don’t let your guard down. There’s one last ‘trap’," Master Qi turned to me.

But I noticed his gaze didn’t rest on me; instead, it swept high over my head, toward the pitch-black tomb behind me.

"What trap?"

"Tides."

"Tides?"

"Yes. This is nature’s ‘trap’," Master Qi repeated. He explained that if the sea level inside the depression matched that outside, there had to be a connection. The water inside would rise with the tide. Sea water could surge back in through the large hole blasted by the spy...

"Move quickly!" I cut him off, already realizing the gravity of the situation. I immediately urged everyone to climb as fast as possible with all their strength.

Simply put, when the tide rises outside, seawater floods into the tomb. We had to escape quickly.

Everyone scrambled upward, hands and feet working together, sweat pouring down.

After about ten minutes, someone at the back was utterly spent, leaning weakly against the stone wall to catch his breath. Suddenly, he screamed sharply.

I turned back impatiently, asking what was wrong. His face went pale, and trembling, he pointed shakily at the stone walls on either side.

To our shock, the walls seemed to be sweating; droplets of murky mist oozed like beads of sweat on a human face!

"Master, you were right," I frowned at the droplets, which kept seeping out like a rash, hanging on the walls. Something was wrong—this seawater was truly rising!

Surrounded by darkness, no one could rest. We clung tightly to the cracks between bricks, bodies pressed close to the steep steps and mossy walls, scrambling and jostling chaotically.

Climbing up.

Sliding down.

Falling.

Scrambling back up!

We fought like lobsters in a frenzy.

"Watch your step and avoid trampling," I tried to keep order, but panic had taken hold, making it impossible.

"Look! What’s up ahead?" Master Qi said calmly, easing the tension.

Everyone instinctively stopped pushing forward and looked ahead.

A beam of light.

I squinted slightly, catching a faint golden glow. Warm and gentle, it spilled at my feet, as if leaking from a round hole.

Having been in the pitch-black cave for so long, it was hard to perceive time’s passage. When I finally saw this shaft of golden light, I stood frozen like a scarecrow for a moment before realizing it was the long-missed sun.

"Victory is just ahead. Don’t rush—the seawater can’t catch us now," Master Qi said briskly, weaving through the astonished, elated, and dazed crowd. "Let’s go, stop standing there!"

We finally emerged from the tomb sometime between four and six in the afternoon.

My head poked out of the cave entrance, greeted by a fiery red sunset. The distant, vast sea stretched beyond the horizon, making us feel as though we had returned from an underworld adventure, bathing in the light of rebirth.

Master’s guess was right. This exit—or rather, the tomb’s true entrance—was indeed on an island: an unremarkable dead volcanic island.

We emerged atop a hill no more than a hundred meters high. Looking down, black cliffs and the blue sea formed a natural stone embankment, encircled by a thin ring of white sandy beach like scattered sesame seeds.

The cliff base was rugged, piled with volcanic rocks and large boulders, oddly shaped and scattered across the narrow white beach like ink spots on white paper. Most stones were weathered, baked by underground heat for years, their surfaces glazed with a smooth, colorful enamel. As the sun set, the stones reflected a pearl-like radiance.

"This place really does resemble a dead volcanic island in the Atlantic. Maybe there’s oil or coal underneath. We should report this to the organization as soon as we return... These mineral deposits and artifacts are national treasures," Master Qi paced before me, his steps stirring flakes of exposed mica like sparkling embers.

Looking closer, the hill’s outer slope was steep and winding. We might be able to descend slowly along it. However, many large black translucent stones stood like a mountain of black glass.

Yet beneath this beauty lay great danger.

Although the hill wasn’t tall, a careless fall could break bones. We descended cautiously over the gravelly rock, quartz crystals as fine as powder but too smooth to provide grip, making each step slippery as ice.

Sometimes we knelt on both knees, sometimes pressed our bellies against the slope. Most importantly, we had to spread out. If one slipped, it could drag the entire team down like a string of linked dolls.

At about forty meters above the ground, the geology changed but remained difficult to traverse. Light gray rough rock, black basalt, and yellowish long stones lay before us like freshly fired porous coal briquettes.

Basalt formed from volcanic lava flows, which we had seen inside and outside the underwater tomb. But these basalts were thinner and more ornate: the cooled lava sported long asphalt-like streaks, resembling a thick sulfur carpet.

Such strange landforms. Without considering hardness or origin, I could hardly tell basalt from rhyolite.

At the hill’s base, some green plants sprouted from the jagged cliffs. I recognized natural volcanic orchids with tangled roots growing deep in rock crevices, glowing with a strange golden-green hue in sunlight.

There were also long-stemmed green vines, evergreen shrubs, and pale purple-leaved orchids. They all shared one trait: incredibly tough roots, clinging to the stone like climbers’ hooks, concealing their root structures, their names unknown to me.

Leaving the cliff’s botanical haven, we finally reached the embankment. Looking back at the hilltop, the underwater tomb’s exit was no longer visible. Yet we all memorized the location of that deep cave, set at the hill’s highest point, open wide like a well mouth.

Crossing the embankment and walking another half hour, we arrived at the white sandy beach by the sea.

No vegetation covered this stretch—only some stranded gray-yellow giant clams, scallops, red wheat snails, and bone snails. Beyond that, the beach blurred into the distance.

Hearing our heavy footsteps, many shrimp and crab creatures immediately burrowed into the sand, while a few wary sea birds emitted sharp calls and took wing into the blue sky.

We had claimed this open beach.

Left the first set of human footprints.

"Ships out at sea!" someone shouted.

All eyes turned toward the water.

Sure enough, on the sun-molten sea floated a silver-white large ship, flying a five-star red flag at its bow.

Watching everyone jump and wave wildly like castaways spotting rescue, I couldn’t help but smile faintly despite urging calm.

"Hey, over here!"

"We’re here!"

"Someone’s here!"

The ship sounded two short horn blasts and turned left.

Then it sounded three long blasts, bearing the fluttering red flag, heading toward us.

"Don’t get excited. The ship has already turned around. It must have seen us," I said, trying to calm everyone, though the corners of my mouth twitched upward.

We were saved.