In the following days, nothing changed. At first, I couldn’t adapt, feeling starved and disoriented, but after three days, my body automatically switched to consuming its reserves, and gradually, I started to feel more energetic. Nothing happened; time seemed to freeze. In martial arts novels, many lovesick individuals are trapped in desperate situations, and when they return to the outside world, they often find that the time spent in those dire straits was the happiest and most peaceful.

However, the reality was completely different. The campfire was reduced to a minimum, and all I could hear was the constant sound of water. The rocky walls illuminated by the firelight appeared a very dark yellow. The sense of confinement in the cave made me feel anxious at all times. I had to learn to meditate like the “dull oil bottle” (a nickname for a character) to barely endure; otherwise, I would surely go mad.

The fat guy’s personality was even less suited to staying put. I had no idea how he managed to get through the previous two weeks, but he came up with new distractions almost every day.

Additionally, during these days, we painstakingly smeared the stone walls with ash, hoping to find some other traces. Indeed, there were many scratches on the ground, suggesting that previous occupants often doodled during their rest. We saw a simple chessboard and many characters, but none held any value. Only one inscription caught my interest: on the ground in front of the cave wall, there were several identical names carved, all reading “Sister Zhao Cui,” likely a result of longing. Looking at this, I couldn’t help but think of A’gui on the ground; he must have been even more devastated.

By the third day, I couldn’t help but start doubting my thoughts, wondering if staying in this endless darkness would lead to nothing happening at all. Or perhaps the devil had already forgotten about us?

The “dull oil bottle” was still the same; he had taken my military dagger and wedged it into his waist. He hardly moved, leaning by the campfire all day, showing no signs of anxiety. Although he had always been like this, I felt this time he was unnaturally calm; sometimes, I even had the illusion that he knew what was about to happen.

The calm continued until the midnight of the fifth day—if my watch was still accurate—when suddenly, something changed. I woke up to relieve myself, groggy, and suddenly noticed that the “dull oil bottle” was no longer in his previous spot. Startled, I instinctively looked around and found him standing in front of one side of the rock wall, staring at something.

The fat guy was snoring beside me, and I sensed something was wrong. I glanced at my watch and kicked him awake, and we both walked over.

When we reached the rock wall, we were both stunned; a figure had appeared again. I thought to myself, why was the “dull oil bottle” looking at this kind of thing in the middle of the night? But upon closer inspection, I realized the rock wall was not wet, and that eerie figure looked somewhat different from before.

I grabbed the mining lamp, turned it on, and illuminated the entire rock wall. In the next moment, I gasped; all the shadows in the rock wall were now clearly visible. Under the bright light, those shadows seemed much closer to the surface of the rock wall than before.

“What the hell! What’s going on?” I cursed.

The “dull oil bottle” replied, “They are moving towards us.”