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墨書 Inktalez
Wrapped in a blanket, Shen Tong lay down against the cave wall, but she did not fall asleep immediately. Ever since entering Yulong Snow Mountain, the stabbing pain in her right eye had disappeared, replaced by a warm sensation. This was entirely beyond her experience and understanding; she could not determine whether it was a good or bad thing, nor could she explain why.
In this state of myriad thoughts, she drifted in and out of sleep for several hours. It wasn't until the sky began to lighten that Mu Qing easily called everyone awake, saying, "It's almost dawn; we need to hurry on our way."
The journey that day proved to be even more perilous. After leaving Bai Shui Terrace, they traversed several steep snow slopes and ice-covered cliffs. Mu Qing occasionally used his hunting knife to carve out footholds in the ice ahead, and the others carefully followed in his footsteps.
Around noon, they took a brief rest under a wind-sheltered rock face, sharing some dry rations. Their supply of clean water had long been consumed, forcing them to drink melted snow instead.
"Up ahead is the most dangerous section of Yulong Snow Mountain," Mu Qing said as he swallowed the last bite of his food. "There’s a narrow passage we locals call 'Ghost Gate.' It can only accommodate one person at a time, with sheer cliffs on both sides. Hunters or herbalists often lose their footing there."
After walking for about two more hours, the sky suddenly darkened, fierce winds arose, and snow fell like knives. The four of them could barely see the path ahead and had to hold tightly onto each other to avoid getting separated.
They struggled forward until they finally reached the 'Ghost Gate'—a ridge as narrow as a single-log bridge with steep cliffs on either side. The mountain wind howled through the canyon like a ghostly wail.
Mu Qing went first, while the other three mimicked his movements, using their hunting knives to stabilize themselves as they crawled slowly across the ridge.
In this manner, they painstakingly crossed the 'Ghost Gate,' and by then the sun was already slanting westward.
"Once we climb over the ice wall ahead, we will see the canyon where Guixu Gate is located!" Mu Qing said breathlessly, pointing to an almost vertical ice wall ahead. "That’s the final challenge."
This last section of ice wall was nearly vertical, and with darkness approaching and the wind and snow intensifying, it became particularly difficult to climb. Mu Qing skillfully secured a rope around his waist and began to ascend first.
Once he confirmed it was safe, he lowered the rope from above, helping each person climb up one by one. Finally, when they crested that ridge, the sight before them took everyone's breath away.
Nestled among towering mountains was a deep canyon that abruptly appeared in their view, as if it had been cleaved open by a knife or axe through the majestic Yulong Snow Mountain. The surface of the canyon was covered with thick snow; however, from certain angles in the fading sunlight, glimmers of dark blue-black rock layers could be faintly seen beneath.
At the bottom of the canyon lay a naturally formed, peculiar terrain—two steep walls sloping inward, creating a funnel-shaped depression. In the center was a circular pit about ten meters in diameter, dark as ink, as if it had swallowed all light.
"That is the Guixu Gate," Mu Qing said, pointing at the black hole with a tone of reverence.
In the eyes of Lin Mingchang and the others, this Guixu Gate resembled not so much a door as a gaping wound torn open.
An indescribable sense of oppression enveloped the four of them; it was not merely discomfort from fatigue and tension, but an instinctive fear in the face of the unknown.
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