Chapter Twenty-One: I Suggest Sleeping

Zheng Nanfang pulled back the rope and carefully examined the end. There were no signs of tearing or cutting as he had expected—the knot appeared to have come undone naturally.

Hu Bi sniffed and eyed the black mist enshrouding the suspension bridge with growing apprehension.

If some kind of monster had appeared on the bridge, or if the domed fishery had set up an ambush, at least there would have been a way to respond. Whether it meant a head-on confrontation or a hasty retreat, one could at least make a decision based on an assessment of the danger.

But now, everyone was left in the dark—literally. The two scouts had entered the black mist and lost contact. This kind of unknown fear left the joint convoy at an impasse, unable to advance or retreat, trapped in anxious indecision.

“See anything else?” Hu Bi sidled up to Zheng Nanfang, noticing he’d been staring at the rope for a while. “Any leads?”

“No,” Zheng Nanfang shot him a glare, irritated. “Aren’t you all supposed to be the locals? What’s the point of asking me, an outsider?”

Hu Bi, rebuffed, grumbled, “Why are you so petty? Still mad that I sold you out?”

“Get lost.” Zheng Nanfang spat, raising the rope for him to see. “Look for yourself—no signs of being cut, and the knot’s loosened naturally. Unless he untied it himself, I can’t think of any other explanation.”

“But why would he untie it, knowing how dangerous that mist is?” Hu Bi pressed.

“You ask me, who should I ask?” Zheng Nanfang shook his head, just as baffled.

Laili, overhearing their conversation, sauntered over, cigarette dangling from her lips. In a low voice, she said, “Maybe untying the rope was meant to send us a message?”

“Like what?” Hu Bi retorted.

“Like, maybe the mist isn’t as dangerous as we think. Maybe there’s no threat at all?” Laili speculated from another angle. “But once inside, he found he couldn’t come back the same way, so he used this as a signal?”

Zheng Nanfang and Hu Bi exchanged a look; clearly, they didn’t buy her theory.

“No need,” Zheng Nanfang dismissed Laili’s guess, his tone serious. “They must have run into trouble.”

“And what makes you so sure?” Laili flicked her ash, her tone suggestive. “We’ve only just reached the starting point—are you saying we should turn back already?”

Zheng Nanfang didn’t bother to argue needlessly. He picked up the rope and stepped onto the suspension bridge. Amid Tang Suan and Shu Yangcong’s cries of alarm, he walked steadily toward the shroud of black mist, stopping three or five meters short.

Hu Bi’s eye twitched, afraid the kid would rush in on impulse. Only when Zheng Nanfang halted did he finally relax.

Shaman crept closer to Hu Bi and whispered, “What’s he doing?”

“Observing,” Laili intoned lazily, lighting another cigarette like a true chain-smoker, keeping her eyes on Zheng Nanfang through the swirling smoke.

The people from Deep Blue Sanatorium and Laili’s convoy all held their breath, waiting for this silent young man to show them the way.

The sky grew ever darker. The stars vanished, the pallid moon hid behind clouds, and the whole gorge was plunged into a suffocating stillness.

Zheng Nanfang slowly crouched, fashioned a simple noose in the rope, and tossed it into the black mist.

As the rope’s end disappeared into the fog, Zheng Nanfang noticed a change—the mist seemed to expand and contract like a massive lung, expelling a breath of stale air and then inhaling deeply.

In and out, then calm again. Its reach barely changed, and it showed no interest in Zheng Nanfang crouched j