Chapter 148: Dead End, Mark It Twice

They entered the fork just past the hour of the Ram. The opening was barely wide enough for one shoulder—they had to turn sideways to squeeze through.

Qi Qi went first, slipping his bundle off his shoulder and hugging it to his chest. He tucked his shoulders in and edged along the rock face, and only after moving two steps in did he turn back to take the next pack. Shi Po followed, twisting through, and helped the others in from inside. Xu Yan passed the packs in one by one from the mouth. Jiang Wan counted from behind, and when she reached the fourth, she said, "Where's Qian Duoduo?"

"Here." Qian Duoduo pushed forward, lifted his bundle of flatbread above his head, and tried to shove through sideways. His stomach scraped against the stone. He didn't fit.

"Pack first," Cheng Banshan said from behind him. "Once the pack's through, the man'll go easier."

Shi Po caught the bundle inside. Qian Duoduo gave another squeeze and made it through, his back dragging against the rock with a long rasp.

"Ripped?" He reached behind to feel.

"Your clothes," Shi Po said. "Not the pack."

"Good enough."

The passage beyond wasn't a straight run. The crack in the stone widened here and there—wide enough for two to walk abreast in places, narrow enough to force a sideways shuffle in others. The gap overhead was uneven too. Light spilled down in patches: one bright spot by their feet, then three steps of darkness, then another patch of light.

Where it was bright, they could see the dirt underfoot and the chisel marks on the walls. Where it was dark, only sound remained: sand underfoot, bundle straps scraping rock, the wine gourd at Cheng Banshan's hip knocking once against the stone.

The dirt was dry, filmed with fine dust that didn't rise when stepped on but clung to sweaty hands.

A few dozen paces in, the passage split four ways.

Qi Qi stopped at the junction, set his bundle down to the inner side, and squatted to look.

All four branches cracked off from one great boulder. The left branch ran straight in, visible for a dozen paces. The middle branch was choked at the mouth with fallen rubble—they'd have to climb over. The right branch dropped immediately, the footing slanted. And tucked farther in was a low one, its opening less than three feet off the ground; they'd have to bend double to enter.

The rock walls on both sides were covered in marks. Knife cuts were thin, sword cuts sharp, charcoal lines thick—horizontal, slanting, curving, layered over one another. At the mouth of the left branch, four or five charcoal strokes stacked together.

"All four have been walked," Qi Qi said.

Xu Yan didn't answer. He raised the half-burned torch to chest height and groped along the rock at the junction until he found a flat, clean patch. He ground the blackened end against it twice.

"Everyone watch," he said, and drew a line—a black mark the height of a palm. "This one is the way we came in. Every turn from here on, I mark one line."

"We're not following the Eight Sects' markings?" Bai Xiaoman asked.

"No." Xu Yan switched the torch to his other hand and pointed one by one at the four openings. "There are eighty of them ahead of us. Those marks are the path they walked, not the path we can walk. Follow their marks and we'll hit a dead end and have to retreat, and on the retreat we won't know where we're retreating to."

"Then how do we choose?" Qi Qi stood.

"We choose the branch with light and a downward slope." Xu Yan walked to the right branch, squatted to study the slanted footing, then looked up at the crack overhead. "Light gets in through this one, and it descends—downhill saves strength. If it's wrong, we come back. Back to here, where I'll recognize my own mark."

Jiang Wan hitched her bundle higher and glanced at the black line. "Everyone got it?"

"Got it," came the reply.

"One at a time, three paces apart," Xu Yan said.

The right branch began with a stretch of slope where they had to plant their feet sideways for purchase. Some twenty paces in, the passage rose, then dipped again, then curved.

At every turn, Xu Yan stopped and drew a line at chest height, stepped back half a pace to look at it, watched that line stand out black against the gray stone, then moved on.

Past the second turn, the passage narrowed into a vertical seam, the opening less than two feet wide. Qi Qi pushed his arm in up to the shoulder, feeling his way forward: the seam ran on, one wall higher than the other, but farther in he couldn't even straighten his elbow.

"Dead end." He pulled his arm back; a thread of blood stood along the back of his hand. "A hand fits. A man doesn't."

Shi Po squeezed up to the seam, planted both palms against the stone and shoved. The rock didn't move. He put his shoulder into it twice, then backed off. "Solid."

"Fall back."

They withdrew to the previous turn. Qian Duoduo walked backwards and got stuck again in the narrow spot. Shi Po held his bundle from behind and turned man and pack together.

Back at the junction, Xu Yan felt along the wall for his mark, then drew a horizontal stroke across it—two lines now, crossed into an X.

"Dead ends, I mark twice," he said. "One line means walked. Two means dead end. Don't bother remembering the path. Just read my marks."

"Like when you cross out a wrong figure in the books," Jiang Wan said.

"In the books, one stroke voids the page." Xu Yan lowered the torch. "Here, two strokes void the branch."

Bai Xiaoman leaned in to study the X. "Both strokes the same length?"

"Same length," Xu Yan said. "They have to match, or I won't recognize them."

With the right branch eliminated, three remained: the left, the middle, and the low one. The middle branch had rubble heaped at its mouth. Shi Po climbed up first and passed the rocks down piece by piece. After seven or eight stones, he said the base was solid and passable.

When Cheng Banshan crossed the rubble, he first secured his medicine pouch, handed his bundle up to the person above, braced one hand on the stone, and got up by working twice with his knees. Once on top, he sat catching his breath for a while before reaching back for the pouch.

"Elder Cheng, I can carry that," Shi Po said.

"I'll carry it," Cheng Banshan said. "Don't hang it in front of me—it blocks my eyes."

They climbed over the rocks. The passage continued straight. After a stretch, the crack overhead suddenly widened, and a broad shaft of light fell through, illuminating a pile of collapsed stone that rose from the floor all the way to the ceiling seam.

This branch was dead too. Back at the junction, Xu Yan drew his second line at the middle branch.

They could read the sun's angle by the light slipping through the crack above: the bright patch first slanted across the lower rock wall, then inched upward little by little until it reached waist height, then thinned.

"The sun's past." Bai Xiaoman sat on the dirt waiting for Xu Yan to finish his mark, looking up at that line of light. "When the light climbs in here, the sun's going down."

"How much longer can we keep moving?" Qian Duoduo asked.

"We move while we can," Xu Yan said.

At the hour of the Monkey, voices carried out of the left branch—someone coming back.

First footsteps, then breathing, then a line of people rounding into view from that direction. The ten from Zhenyue Sect walked close together, clothes caked with dust. The disciple at the lead braced a hand against the rock just to stay on his feet.

Gan Ren was in the middle. When he emerged, he didn't move forward. He stopped and pressed one palm against the stone wall for a long moment before drawing it back.

Zhenyue was looking at the ground. Xu Yan had seen him press the stone this way once before, at the door.

"Sect Master Xu," Gan Ren said. "The left branch collapsed. No way through."

"Thank you, Daoyou Gan," Xu Yan said. "We tried the right and middle branches—both dead. We haven't entered the low one."

Gan Ren nodded and led his people toward the low opening. One by one they bent double and went in. The last disciple's belt had snapped at one end and dragged in the dirt. He kept walking, then stooped to pick it up.

"We're not taking the low one?" Qi Qi asked.

"No," Xu Yan said. "They clear one branch, we clear another—each to our own. They've saved us a walk by testing the left. That's enough."

"What if it turns out they picked right?" Qian Duoduo asked, voice low.

"Then we still wouldn't crowd in behind them." Xu Yan tucked the torch under his arm. "Fall back. Back to the mouth."

Jiang Wan shouldered her bundle again. "This junction's finished?"

"Finished," Xu Yan said. "All four branches blocked, or claimed. There's still that other one at the mouth. We take it."

The walk back went faster than the walk in. Xu Yan traced the wall markings the whole way; when his fingers found a line, he knew how many remained. At the narrow spot, Qian Duoduo clutched the flatbread bundle to his chest and shuffled through step by step. Cheng Banshan stopped every stretch to rest, and while resting he fished out his wine gourd, bit the stopper free, sniffed, didn't drink, and bit the stopper back in. Huo Qing followed behind him, left hand riding the rock wall as he went, right hand hanging at his side, his shoulder never lifting.

Back at the mouth, another passage opened off the opposite side, angling upward—narrower than the entry. They had to bend over, heads down nearly to their knees, just to crawl through.

"I'll go first," Qi Qi said.

Ten or so paces in, the passage dropped, and though the low point passed, they still couldn't straighten. After another stretch, a line of light opened overhead, and slowly they could rise.

This branch had fewer marks on its walls. They'd come a long way before seeing a few charcoal lines, faintly drawn, disappearing after a couple of steps. Beyond them, the rock was clean.

Xu Yan still drew his line at every turn, but more carefully now—grinding the torch black once per line, lifting his hand after to study it the end.

At the end of the hour of the Rooster, the light died fast.

The bright patches in the crack went dark one by one, from deep inside toward the entrance. When the darkness reached the patch at their feet, the last thin ribbon of light held briefly, then it too was gone.

Darkness closed in. This dark wasn't like the darker stretches before—that dark had come in patches, with light visible elsewhere. This was whole and unbroken. Eyes open or shut, it made no difference.

"The sky in a Hidden Realm darkens with the sky outside," Shao Ming said.

"We stop here," Xu Yan said. "No one moves. Walk a wrong fork in the dark, and we lose someone we can't easily find."

They felt along the walls and found places to sit. Qian Duoduo opened the bundle and counted item by item: flatbread, water flasks, the wrapping cloth. Finished, he reported: "All here."

The water flask went around the circle. Shao Ming drank and passed it to Cheng Banshan, who drank and leaned back against the rock.

Xu Yan fixed everyone's position in his mind: Jiang Wan farthest toward the entrance, Bai Xiaoman beside her, then inward—Qian Duoduo, Cheng Banshan, Shao Ming, Huo Qing. Shi Po had the two packs propped against the inner wall and sat at their edge, Qi Qi beside him. Xu Yan sat against the wall on this side of the fork. Du Xiaochuan took the first watch, seated at the opening and facing the way they'd come.

"Rooster-to-Dog is yours," Xu Yan told him. "You hear anything, speak."

"All right."

At the hour of the Dog, they each pulled out flatbread and ate. The bread was hard; a bite required working it in the mouth before it could be chewed.

"This could drive nails," Cheng Banshan said after chewing a long time. "Duoduo, were you saving water when you baked these?"

"I didn't dare use much," Qian Duoduo said. "They keep longer when they're dry."

"Keeps longer. Kills teeth sooner." Cheng Banshan broke off a corner and held it in his mouth. "If we find water tomorrow, soak it soft."

Shi Po ate fastest. When he finished, he leaned against his two packs and didn't move. Jiang Wan broke her bread in half and offered part to Bai Xiaoman. Bai Xiaoman said she had her own, so Jiang Wan set the half on Bai Xiaoman's knee without another word.

They lay down to sleep. Voices faded, leaving only breathing—and someone's breath, one long, one short, uneven.

At the hour of the Boar, Du Xiaochuan called softly from the mouth: "Senior Sister."

Jiang Wan rose and went over. They exchanged a few low words, then Du Xiaochuan returned and lay down. Jiang Wan sat at the opening, back to the group, sword across her knees, sheathed.

By the hour of the Ox, Xu Yan was still awake.

He'd never properly slept that night. He'd listened through Du Xiaochuan's watch, listened as Jiang Wan took over, listened as his breathing and everyone else's slowly aligned, then drifted apart.

He rose and walked over.

"My turn," he said.

Jiang Wan took the sword from her knees and held it to her chest, looking up at him. "If you get tired, sit and doze. Don't lie down. Lying down, you sleep too deep."

"Mm."

She rose and went back to the others, her steps quiet. The sheath brushed the rock once, then was still.

Xu Yan sat at the opening.

In the dark he could see nothing. He put his hand to the wall and felt the lines he'd drawn that day: one, then another. At the crossings, the X's were rougher than the stone around them. He knew every mark—where he'd drawn once, where he hadn't yet walked. The low branch at this fork was taken by Zhenyue Sect; he'd already noted which way to slip around it tomorrow.

Far off, someone was speaking.

Through a layer of stone, the sound arrived scattered, impossible to make out. Sometimes it sounded like two people talking, sometimes like several. It came from the left—not close, not moving, staying in one place.

Someone was still searching for a path. Or maybe someone didn't need to search. Their side might already be through.

The talking stopped, started again for two sentences, then fell silent.

Xu Yan sat without moving, drew his hand from the stone, and rested it on his knee.

Once the dark went still, another sound surfaced: dripping water.

He couldn't tell where. It fell at long intervals, and it wasn't falling onto stone but into a body of water—the sound loose, with a faint echo.

He cocked his head and listened. The sound circled once through the passage, then scattered behind him.