FI CH 43

Chapter 43: Underground Labyrinth (XIII)

Kurosawa was woken up by something soft and fuzzy rubbing against him. As soon as he opened his eyes, he saw the little fox happily circling around him. He found it amusing and stretched out his hand. The little fox immediately snuggled obediently into his palm, eyes squinting as if asking to be petted.

“You’re awake.” Bai Hua had heard the rustling and walked over, just in time to see his spiritual animal acting cute toward Kurosawa. His expression immediately turned a bit odd, and he stiffly said to the fox, “Come here.”

The little fox didn’t dare go against Bai Hua’s command. It nimbly wriggled out of Kurosawa’s arms and obediently trotted over to sit by Bai Hua’s side.

Kurosawa had already sat up. The clothing draped over his body slipped down to his waist, exposing his upper body, which still bore the traces of passion from a few hours ago.

Bai Hua took one glance, then quickly looked away.

Kurosawa, however, didn’t seem to mind. He started putting his clothes back on. “Where did you go?”

Before Bai Hua could answer, the familiar sound of rushing wind stirred the air. Kurosawa’s hawk swooped down from above, landing steadily on Bai Hua’s shoulder. The sharp talons couldn’t pierce the protective suit worn by a Sentinel, but it must still have caused some discomfort. Kurosawa noticed that Bai Hua had even secretly torn a small piece of cloth from his own shirt to attract the bird with his scent. Judging by the scene, they had gotten along quite well.

Bai Hua had forgotten to hide the evidence, and now that he’d been caught, his face turned slightly red.

Kurosawa simply smiled. “You didn’t have to do that. It would have come to you anyway. Its claws are too sharp, so it usually holds back to avoid hurting people. But now that it knows it doesn’t need to worry about that with you, it’s letting loose.”

Is that so?

Bai Hua looked up at it. The hawk tilted its head and looked back at him.

This scene was strangely adorable. Kurosawa chuckled and shook his head, then asked, “Did I sleep for a long time?”

“No,” Bai Hua replied. Seeing that Kurosawa had finished getting dressed, he finally turned around. “I found that there seems to be another path deeper inside. I only scouted a bit and didn’t dare go far.”

Kurosawa looked up at the waterhole they had fallen through. No matter how he examined it, it didn’t seem like a way back. And considering how Jing He had led them so far underwater, it really felt like… she intended for them to keep going forward.

Ever since they entered the underground city, no matter how they wandered, Kurosawa always had the feeling that something was guiding them in a specific direction. Even the glimpses they caught of past scenes—those likely weren’t coincidences.

Bai Hua noticed Kurosawa had gone quiet and asked, “What is it?”

Kurosawa shared his thoughts, then added, “It looks like if we don’t follow the path laid out for us, we won’t be able to leave this place.”

Bai Hua nodded in agreement. “But maybe we’re also getting close to the truth.”

So in the end, they had no choice but to head deeper along that path. It continued downward, and the farther they went, the colder it became. The thin frost on the stone walls gradually thickened into solid blocks of ice.

The rock formations down here were even tougher and more pressure-resistant than those above. Covered in ice, they were less prone to collapse, making the area surprisingly safer.

The surrounding frost grew thicker and thicker. In some places, it had even formed jagged icicles along the path of dripping water.

And at the very end of the road stood a massive wall of ice.

Sitting on a stone in front of the ice wall was someone they knew all too well—Lin Yuan.

The moment Bai Hua sensed Lin Yuan’s presence, he immediately tensed up on alert.

But Lin Yuan showed no hostility. He looked just like he had when they last saw him in the rainforest—casual, almost entirely unguarded.

Kurosawa instinctively stepped in front of Bai Hua. He could sense Lin Yuan’s current state and knew he had no intention of attacking. “What is going on? Were you the one who brought us here?”

“It wasn’t me. To be precise, it was his will,” Lin Yuan said, lifting his hand and knocking lightly on the ice wall behind him. “Feng Xu.”

The two followed the motion of Lin Yuan’s hand and only then noticed—inside the ice wall, a man was sealed.

It was Feng Xu, without a doubt—but he looked like he was only in his twenties.

Bai Hua asked uncertainly, “He… is he still alive?”

“No. Just as you both already know—he’s dead.” Lin Yuan’s voice was so calm it carried no discernible emotion. He absentmindedly rubbed the cloth tied around his wrist with his thumb. Kurosawa noticed the pattern on it—it was from a piece of clothing Feng Xu had made for Lin Yuan when they were children.

“This was his hometown. I was the one who placed his body here.”

“So it was you…?”

“It’s not wrong if you believe I killed him. Because in a way, he did die because of me.”

“What happened?”

“With your abilities, I’m sure you’ve already seen the memory I left behind in the Sentinel Guild.” Lin Yuan raised his head to look at them, then turned his gaze specifically to Bai Hua. “Then you should understand—we’re the same. You know full well what happens when a dark sentinel loses control.”

The way Lin Yuan spoke was too absolute. A flash of guilt and hatred briefly crossed his eyes—it was impossible to fake. Bai Hua suddenly felt that the truth wasn’t quite what they had seen so far. He shook his head and said, “I don’t believe it.”

Lin Yuan lifted his eyes to meet his.

“I don’t believe you killed Feng Xu because you lost control.” Even though Bai Hua didn’t know Lin Yuan that well, based on everything they had learned, it wasn’t hard to imagine what kind of person he truly was. “Because if you ever reached that point, you’d probably choose to kill yourself first.”

Lin Yuan stared at him for a long moment, then suddenly laughed. “I think I understand why Feng Xu liked you.”

“What do you mean?” Bai Hua was completely confused. Lin Yuan had said Feng Xu was dead, that it was Feng Xu who led them here, and now he was saying Feng Xu liked him?

But he had never even met Feng Xu in person.

Lin Yuan seemed to understand Bai Hua’s confusion and continued, “Just as you know, after that battle, I completely lost control. I was lost in my own mental landscape—unable to return. It was Feng Xu who entered my consciousness to save me. But because our compatibility was too low, he used his life as the price to pull me back from the depths.”

“There’s no real difference between that and me killing him with my own hands.”

Lin Yuan looked back at the man sealed in the ice. “His consciousness completely vanished within my mental world. That’s the clearest proof of eternal sleep.”

Bai Hua was stunned. He hadn’t expected this to be the truth, and for a moment, he was speechless. When someone’s spiritual consciousness disappears, the body may still live—but they can never be awakened again.

“I’ve known him for such a long, long time. I know his preferences, what he likes. And I’ve always had this feeling… that he admired what you two have.”

With great difficulty, Bai Hua asked, “Then why did you… rebel?”

Lin Yuan’s lips curled with a hint of mockery. “Only when you lose the most important thing will you truly understand what holds meaning for you. Honor and fame, power and status—even the abilities of an esper—all become obstacles.”

Bai Hua didn’t quite understand what Lin Yuan meant, but Kurosawa’s brows furrowed deeply.

“Even though you now know all this, our positions remain enemies. But in this place, I won’t raise a hand against you.” Lin Yuan seemed to sense something about the underground city and suddenly stood, preparing to leave. “Next time we meet, I won’t be so courteous.”

As they brushed past each other, Bai Hua asked again, “Then why tell us all this?”

Lin Yuan didn’t answer. Without looking back, he walked off.

Only after Lin Yuan’s figure fully disappeared around the corner did Kurosawa speak up, offering an answer on his behalf: “Because Feng Xu wants him to stop.” Then he turned his gaze back to the figure sealed within the ice wall. “And at the same time, he’s asking us for help. I think he hopes we can bring Lin Yuan back…”

Guides rely heavily on intuition. Kurosawa couldn’t be completely sure of what he felt—but between guides, such feelings were easier to interpret.

Bai Hua didn’t doubt Kurosawa’s words. Perhaps it really was the best explanation. Given Lin Yuan’s usual reticent nature, revealing so much of his past already seemed like his greatest compromise—for Feng Xu’s sake. Emotionally, Lin Yuan hadn’t changed much at all. He would do anything to fulfill Feng Xu’s requests.

Suddenly, Bai Hua felt like he understood a little more.

Lin Yuan was someone born with a spotlight on him—talented, capable, and pushed into the position of war god through the power struggles around him. He’d won countless battles, and even the label of “dark sentinel” had never made him retreat. He might have once held bright ideals, a strong belief in justice. But as his reputation spread, and people raised him to a pedestal, the spotlight that once celebrated him became shackles.

He could no longer make even the simplest decisions freely. Even if he had someone he liked, he could only say they were “close friends” in public. He couldn’t show affection. Worse, he was even arranged to marry a guide with a higher compatibility for political reasons. All of it went against his original will.

Feng Xu’s death was just the breaking point. The matching system was a contributing factor, but the root cause was the vicious power struggle. Lin Yuan had tried to resist, had struggled—but none of it worked. What was meant to happen happened, and what shouldn’t have happened did anyway. In the end, he still lost the one he loved.

Bai Hua turned to Kurosawa and asked, “So the other guide’s presence you sensed… was it Feng Xu?”

“Yes.”

Even though the signal was very faint, Feng Xu’s guiding ability still lingered, fused with Lin Yuan’s spiritual force to maintain the balance of the underground city. This place marked the beginning of their story—naturally, it held a deeper meaning.

After a moment of thought, Kurosawa added, “Actually, the layout of this underground city reminds me of a certain legend. It’s about an ancient tribe whose descendants worshipped water. They believed flowing water had vitality—it could bestow power. So they transformed all storage spaces into canals, and built a special waterway solely for the dead.”

“They believed that if the deceased passed through this sacred channel, they could be reborn, reincarnated into new life.”

“You think the people who built this place were them?”

“I’m not sure,” Kurosawa replied. “But I think… Lin Yuan may have believed that too.”

And that, too, was a way of letting the dead rest in peace.

(To be continued…)