Chapter 8: The Deep Breaths of the Tunnel
Tian Heng stepped into the mouth of the southern tunnel, leaving behind the faint blue light and the familiar hum of the core in the main hall. The darkness closed in around him immediately, thick and heavy, only broken by the faint circle of light emitted by the etheric resonator in his hand. The silence was absolute, deeper than the silence of the hall, interrupted only by the sound of his cautious footsteps on the dusty floor and his steady, calm breathing. The air here was heavier, carrying a faint smell of decay and cold rocks that hadn't been touched by a fresh breeze in centuries.
He moved cautiously and steadily, his eyes constantly scanning the walls, ceiling, and floor ahead of him. He was following the path he had memorized from the core's map, checking for the simple marks he had made earlier at any side passages he had ignored according to the plan. The tunnels here seemed older or less maintained than those near the main hall, with more natural rock exposed, interspersed with remnants of corroded metal structures embedded in the walls. He noticed occasional water leaks glistening in the resonator's light and sometimes heard a faint rustling or a distant scratching sound—perhaps just the settling of rocks or the movement of tiny, invisible insects accustomed to the eternal darkness. He did not stop, as all of these were just environmental data being recorded in his mind.
After about twenty minutes of careful walking, he reached the location of the first obstruction indicated in the survey, about thirty meters from the entrance. It was a pile of rocks of varying sizes that had fallen from a collapsed section of the ceiling, forming a barrier that blocked about two-thirds of the tunnel's width. The sight matched the survey data.
Tian Heng stopped and began assessing the situation with his analytical eyes. Some of the rocks seemed large and heavy, but there appeared to be a narrow possible path between the pile and the side wall. He directed the resonator's light to inspect the ceiling directly above the collapse—it appeared cracked but showed no immediate signs of imminent further collapse. He then examined the narrow passage carefully, trying to assess the stability of the nearby rocks.
He decided that attempting to move the large rocks would be a significant risk and could consume valuable energy. The narrow passage seemed like the best option, but it was very tight and would require extreme caution to pass through. He noticed a medium-sized rock protruding uncomfortably at the narrowest point of the passage.
He took a small metal crowbar from his temporary belt. Slowly and carefully, he inserted its thin end into the gap beneath the protruding rock. He pressed steadily, not with immense force, but with calculated, continuous pressure. The rock resisted at first, then shifted slightly with a sharp scraping sound. He continued to apply pressure until he managed to move it a few inches, creating a vital extra space in the passage. He checked the stability of the area again after moving the rock—it seemed stable.
He returned the crowbar to its place and began to move through the narrow gap. He had to move sideways, holding his breath, being careful not to let his clothes or body touch any unstable rocks. Fine dust fell from above as he passed. After what felt like a long moment, he emerged on the other side of the collapse.
He paused for a moment, checking the energy indicator of his vault in his mind—it had decreased very slightly, perhaps to [9.0%] now. Still within the safe margin. He then continued deeper into the tunnel.
The further he went, the stronger his sense of isolation became. He could no longer even hear the faint hum of the central core. The tunnels here had become narrower and more winding in some places. He noticed something strange on the walls in this deeper section: scattered patches of very pale moss, almost white, but emitting a faint, sticky phosphorescent glow. It wasn't enough light to see by, but it created a ghostly and eerie atmosphere, slightly alleviating the absolute darkness beyond the circle of the resonator's light. He recorded this observation—a potential biological light source, however faint.
He continued walking, following the mental map precisely, until he began to feel that his next destination was near. He had been moving for over an hour by his estimation. He reached a sharp turn in the tunnel, and when he turned, he stopped suddenly.
Directly ahead of him, where the tunnel should have continued, there was a massive wall of shattered rocks, twisted concrete blocks, and rusted, bent metal bars. It was a complete blockage, much higher and wider than the first collapse. The faint light from the resonator barely illuminated its extent, and he couldn't see any clear gap or side passage. It seemed as though the tunnel here had completely collapsed, perhaps due to an ancient disaster or simply neglect over thousands of years.