“Who is it?” The fat man shone the flashlight in that direction, and immediately, something rose from the bronze floor.

It looked like a pillar, about the thickness of a bowl and more than half a person’s height, intricately carved with extremely complex patterns. The detail of the designs on this pillar was a hundred times more exquisite than those on the surrounding walls.

On either side of the pillar, there were two wing-like structures hanging down from the top, also made of bronze.

“A flying stick?” the fat man said.

“Are there mechanisms down here?” I knocked on the ground, and the fat man walked over to the stick. After taking a few steps, he suddenly stopped and pointed the flashlight in another direction.

In the beam of his light, another identical pillar appeared.

He slowly rotated the flashlight, and we discovered that centered around this corpse, every four or five steps, another pillar had risen, forming a circle around the body.

“What on earth are these things?” The three of us fell silent for a moment, and then the fat man murmured, “I have to say, this is a bit boring.”

“This is a support,” Zhang Haixing said. “Originally, there should have been something like a lid covering this corpse. We must have triggered something, causing these pillars to rise and push the lid up. But where did that lid go?”

“Yeah, it’s all empty here. I, Fat Master, am most afraid of empty places, not even a single trinket to pick up.”

“What did we trigger?” I was still quite concerned about this. “Was it our weight that activated it?”

“Maybe the disc beneath our feet is designed to sense changes in weight, and when we stepped on it, the mechanism was activated.”

“Let’s try it.” I said, making a gesture for them to step back. The three of us moved away from the disc.

Sure enough, after hesitating for a moment, the surrounding pillars slowly and silently sank back into the ground.

Zhang Haixing squatted down to examine the edges where the pillars met the ground, saying, “The gaps are cleverly hidden within the patterns. Do you think there are many such mechanisms in this room?”

“Are you saying there are things hidden within these walls?”

“Otherwise, don’t you think this place feels particularly empty?” Zhang Haixing replied.

I sighed. If a place feels empty, it implies that there is something hidden within the walls. This line of reasoning seemed a bit self-deceptive.

But if there really was nothing, then was the situation the same for the guy who entered through the bronze door? Did he just stare blankly at these copper walls every day?

What a terrifying way to live.

Perhaps that is indeed the case; the so-called ultimate reality is simply the absence of anything. An empty room represents the end of everything, which is nothingness. Thus, all the things we previously imagined were merely our own delusions.

All things return to yin and yang, yin and yang return to chaos, and chaos ultimately returns to absolute nothingness.

I took a deep breath. If that were the case, then we would have succumbed to a philosophical concept.

No, it can’t be like that. So much has happened; it can’t be that way. Moreover, the dull oil bottle isn’t that fragile of a person.

At this moment, the胖子 said, “Tian Zhen, I remember you told me that your grandfather had a prerequisite for considering issues, which is purpose. Everyone does something for a reason.” I nodded; this was something my grandfather often said.

“Then tell me, what is the purpose of this place’s existence?” the胖子 asked.

“Don’t listen to baseless truths; many ancient people acted without any purpose,” Zhang Haixing said. “Everything here might just be the result of caprice or even superstition.”

“The so-called caprice and superstition must have a reason behind them, and that reason is the purpose itself. This is not baseless,” I replied. “The胖子 is right; especially with such complex carvings, there must be a reason. We can think about it from this perspective.” As I touched the patterns, a thought suddenly flashed in my mind, reminding me of my previous experiences in the Qinling Mountains.

“Think in terms of direction, direction, direction,” I turned to the胖子 and asked, “Did I just say those four words?”

“Yes,” the胖子 replied. “What’s on your mind?”

“Do you have a water bottle?” I asked the胖子.

He handed me his water bottle, and I unscrewed it and poured all the water onto the ground. The胖子 exclaimed that there was only a little left. I didn’t have time to pay attention to him; I crouched down and shone my flashlight, watching the water seep into the cracks, beginning to flow along them, blooming like a flower across the floor filled with gaps.

The胖子 looked at me in surprise and asked, “How did you think of that?”

“I’ve seen something like this before,” I said. “Water will spread and conduct through such fine lines, and it will likely form a pattern.”

The three of us stood in a triangle, observing the water being directed by some strange force, the pattern becoming increasingly complex and bizarre.

After about ten minutes, the flow of water gradually stopped, and an indescribably complex pattern appeared before us.

We stood at the three corners of the pattern, looking down at its shape, remaining silent for a full half hour. The胖子 finally said, “Is this a草泥马?”

I looked at it, my eyes nearly popping out in disbelief, and let out a frustrated sigh. Indeed, this shape resembled nothing but was very much like an alpaca.

If this shape was the answer, then we hadn’t gained any hints; instead, the problem had become even more complicated.

“If we are speaking to God, then clearly we’ve disturbed Him during His afternoon nap,” I said.

“Let’s try again, in the same place,” Zhang Haixing suggested. “I saw how smoothly the water moved; I don’t think it was accidental. Your method should be correct. Let’s do it again in the same place. If it still forms such a pattern, then the草泥马 must have some significance. It doesn’t matter.”

We waited for the water in the grooves on the ground to slowly dry up. Once the water was completely gone, Zhang Haixing took out her water bottle and poured water into the spot where I had poured it earlier.

The water spread out in the same manner as before, quickly flowing along the patterns in all directions. This time, the shape formed looked like an upside-down egg covered in a lot of fur.

“God is trying to sleep again, and he told us to get lost,” the fat man said. “Why don’t we wait until he wakes up to talk?”

The completely different patterns indicated that the flow of water was random. I rubbed my forehead, squatted down to smoke, thinking to myself how embarrassing this was.

This place felt like an utterly incomprehensible riddle, with only the ultimate two characters as the clue, no direction for thought, no hints, and even no points of connection.

It was like taking someone to a beach and telling them two words: “braised pork.” Then just walking away. The people here would either search for braised pork on the beach or come up with many profound yet nonsensical conclusions: for example, “There’s nothing on the beach, but I have braised pork in my heart, so it’s as if I have braised pork.”

Zhang Haixing still didn’t believe in the supernatural. She said, “It’s strange, but the water flows particularly smoothly through these patterns; it must have been designed to guide the liquid.”

“Maybe it’s not water; maybe we need to pour wine. That’s why Fat Master said it was wise to bring some liquor. You stubborn people will regret it,” the fat man said as he tilted his water bottle. “Don’t spill your drink, Tianzhen; we’re out of water. If something goes wrong later, we’ll have to drink each other’s urine.”

“It’s not water,” I frowned, suddenly recalling my analysis after seeing those patterns in the Qinling Mountains, and I inhaled sharply.

“It’s not water.” I drew my dagger from my waist. “It’s blood.”

I acted quickly; before the fat man or even I could react, I had already cut my hand.

Having seen the younger brother cut his hand, I was quite experienced with this. The place where he sliced his palm was where blood flowed the fastest and most abundantly, yet it was also easy to stop the bleeding.

I made the cut. It took two or three minutes before I felt the pain, and by then, blood had already dripped onto the ground, beginning to spread along the patterns like water.

This time, however, the speed was much faster than the water; the blood rapidly seeped through the patterns, like tiny tentacles reaching out.

“The density of blood is different; these patterns are specially designed to guide blood,” I said. “This time, I can’t be wrong.”

“Damn, it’s going up the wall,” the fat man said, shining his flashlight at the wall. Countless strands of blood began to climb up the wall, centered around me, as the blood continuously sought its own path, forming various routes within these patterns, creating a massive design.

“Yes, yes!” I thought to myself, squeezing my hand to force more blood out.

“Do you want to stop the bleeding first?” Zhang Haixing asked, looking at my hand.

I felt a chill throughout my body and had no idea how much blood I had lost, but I still shook my head, unwilling to give up at this critical moment. Although the strands of blood were very thin, the space here was vast, and I didn’t know if the blood I was losing was enough.

I’ll push to my limit first, I thought.

“There are so many frames,” the fat man said. “Your blood has drawn a lot of doors.”

I looked in the direction the fat man was pointing. As I took a step, everything went dark, and I fainted.