Slowly, we approached the valley. At this moment, a fog arose, and I think this might have been the reason for the accident that happened to us later. The fog was thick, gradually swallowing our figures; even people walking side by side could not see each other. Perhaps afraid of getting separated, everyone walked closer and closer together, and finally, the accident happened when I stepped into thin air.

Afterwards, we recalled the scene countless times, but everyone remembered it differently. However, there was one point on which we all agreed: I had collapsed an entrance to a cave that had been buried for thousands of years, and the six of us tied to a single rope fell into the cave. The last to enter, Big Brooks, was stuck at the entrance because the food pack on his back was too large, and was then buried by the collapsing earth and rocks. The five of us fell into a pitch-black tunnel, which was very smooth, as if it had endured thousands of years yet remained dry. We slid uncontrollably through the tunnel and finally fell into a hexagram-shaped clearing. After enduring a tearing pain, we lost consciousness.

As for that cave entrance, I think, buried under sand and stones, it may disappear for another thousand years...

Chapter One: Return to the Three Kingdoms

Section Three: Straying into the Three Kingdoms

I don't know how much time passed before I woke up. Opening my eyes, I saw the sun hanging overhead. It was nearly noon, the sky was a deep blue, and the sun radiated a dazzling brilliance, making me blink involuntarily. This slight movement caused a wave of intense pain throughout my body, making me gasp, which brought another wave of sharp pain. I was overwhelmed with joy—I was still alive. It felt wonderful to be alive.

The "Wilderness Survival Manual" says that in such situations, you must not move recklessly. I maintained my lying position and tried to gently move my fingers one by one. Fortunately, I could control each finger. Then my toes—I moved them one by one, all normal. Deep breath—lungs were fine. As I gradually checked myself, the condition of each part of my body was relayed to my brain.

It seemed that, apart from muscle pain, all my bones and organs were intact. Next, I could try moving my arms. I raised my hand and placed it before my eyes. My clothes were still in decent shape, but my hand was covered in tiny black dots. I wiped my hand, and the wiped area revealed baby-like, delicate skin. Was this my skin? I didn't remember being this fair before. As I stared at this unfamiliar hand, pondering, tiny red dots appeared under the skin—blood. These fine hemorrhages were caused by ruptured capillaries; the black dots on my hand were dried blood.

What puzzled me was that such extensive capillary rupture usually happens to divers when they dive too deep, and the immense water pressure causes widespread capillary bleeding. Where had I experienced such intense pressure? And this pressure must have been as pervasive as water to cause bleeding all over my body, otherwise my muscles wouldn't ache all over.

Puzzled, I stood up. This normally simple action nearly exhausted all my strength. Yet I was overjoyed—since it was only muscle pain, that was manageable. I remembered my father often saying when dragging me out of bed as a child: "Life is movement. If it hurts, move it." I forced myself to endure the pain and began practicing Chen-style Tai Chi, a slow form ideal for exercising injured muscles. After finishing a set, I still wanted more and started practicing Pi Gua boxing, recalling my father's shout in my mind: "Shake the muscles, gather the force, strike with all your might!"

After finishing the routines, I felt refreshed. Turning around, I observed my surroundings and looked for my companions. I was now on a hillside, seemingly a sunny slope (a sunny slope? When did I get here? We should be at the bottom of the Shennongjia ravine). The slope was covered with low shrubs and sparse grass. The opposite mountain was strewn with rocks, as if it had just experienced an earthquake, and at the foot of the slope was a newly formed large crack. Not far away, there were a few orange spots among the shrubs—the color of my companions' mountaineering jackets.

I walked over and pulled a few companions out from the bushes. The wilderness survival medicine in my pack finally came in handy; I used smelling salts to revive them. Then I searched everywhere for the two guides. They weren't wearing orange mountaineering jackets, so they were harder to find. After much effort, I found the guide Old Brooks. After reviving him, Old Brooks sat there dazed. While checking the pack on his back, I continued searching for Big Brooks.

My companions and I all belong to the "conspiracy faction"—we like to plan everything in detail beforehand. The fact that we spent three years planning this expedition is proof enough. Therefore, I didn't need to check my own or my companions' packs; we had secured them well before descending, and after all the tumbling, the packs were still intact. As for the guides, it was another matter. Although we had checked their packs before descending, after all, they weren't our own belongings.

Sure enough, both solar charger silicon panels in Old Brooks's pack were damaged, but luckily, they could still be repaired. The plant specimens in the pack weren't afraid of being crushed, so I didn't bother checking further. I walked over and asked Old Brooks, "Old Brooks, you were at the back. I remember only Big Brooks was behind you. He was the last one, right? Did you see him?"