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墨書 Inktalez
The path ahead grew increasingly difficult, and several times Mo Wen considered giving up. However, the thought of the treasure that might lie within reignited his spirit. Driven by the lure of riches, Mo Wen quickened his pace, feeling much lighter and less agitated, although Law's restlessness only intensified. He adjusted his direction, moving toward the source of light, and soon found himself back at the fissure. Sure enough, a stone tablet provided guidance this time; he discovered a way into the mountains—a bridge spanning the chasm. The light he had seen before emanated from the other end of the bridge, but now it appeared no different from before; its brightness remained unchanged. This light could penetrate dense fog but failed to illuminate the bridge itself. He could only sense its position and condition vaguely; he had no clear idea of what the bridge looked like.
Standing before the bridge, Mo Wen halted and extended his senses into the fissure. His perception reached downward, stretching to its limit, yet it still did not touch the bottom of the chasm.
Wait! Something was off! Why was his perception limited to only three hundred zhang? Moreover, as the distance increased, the energy consumption was far greater than usual, accompanied by a strong sense of delay, as if it were frozen. He quickly withdrew his senses, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. It was one thing to test it; another to be startled by how even his perception could be immobilized.
What lay beneath? If he fell down there, there would be no chance of survival.
Standing at the edge of the fissure, he hesitated again—should he move forward or retreat? If he advanced, would the bridge suddenly collapse? Given his current condition, it seemed ill-suited for swift movement. Furthermore, what if his spiritual energy was affected while on the bridge? Yet retreating now felt unacceptable; treasure was within reach, and turning back would leave him with a lingering sense of regret. Even without treasure, he could at least uncover what item the Old Village Chief from Kao Shu Village had given him—an object that had led to his ancestors' downfall. This stone tablet must have a significant history.
"Fortune favors the bold!" Mo Wen decided to press on to investigate further. However, he did not act immediately; instead, he searched for a stone around him. He found one about the size of his head but weighing roughly as much as himself. He lifted it with one hand and tossed it onto the bridge's surface. The stone landed silently without causing any collapse, which eased his mind.
He stepped onto the bridge and felt as though he were walking on clouds; below him was an empty void—no wonder the stone had made no sound when it fell. He proceeded cautiously; however, this bridge seemed much longer than he had anticipated. An hour passed without reaching its end. He stopped several times to confirm he was still on the bridge before continuing with renewed confidence. The fog thickened around him like viscous ink; extending his hand yielded no sight of his palm—a true case of not being able to see five fingers in front of him. He reluctantly released a small portion of his senses so that he could better perceive changes ahead. The electric light bound to the stone tablet on his chest flickered more frequently, confirming that he was still on course. Clutching the tablet tightly, he pressed forward, believing that clarity would eventually break through the fog—and that he was not far from that moment.
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