Chapter 236: Sword Insignia

"They entered from here."

Green found the spot corresponding to the map; the previous team had left from here and entered the tunnel against the current.

To be honest, all these cave mouths look much the same; position is confirmed only by counting them one by one. To avoid detection, the team leaves no marks at the cave mouth on this side of the hall.

Only when entering the deep branches do they carve a scratch that is not easily noticed, agreeing to explore the side passages in a consistent order from right to left.

On one hand, this prevents the extremely low probability of collective amnesia; on the other, it handles situations like the present one, allowing those who come chasing to know where they have been and which branch they occupy.

Facing the direction of the hall, Green stepped backward into the passage step by step until the dim light, diffused by the water mist, could no longer be perceived, leaving only the dim yellow firelight to illuminate the surroundings.

The strong pulsation in his chest indicated that his heart was not as calm as his demeanor suggested. Veins swelled and pounded against his brain, keeping him in a state of painful clarity.

His head throbbed with pain, like reading by candlelight through an endless night; a vast amount of things more bizarre than the heretical records in the scrolls stuffed his mind, churning and rolling like amorphous objects rotating to display surfaces of hyperspatial imagination, or like a river polluted by oil, shifting into an overwhelming array of colors.

"We must go faster." He urged, turned, and strode forward into the depths of the passage.

This was pure physical labor, requiring little thought, causing surplus energy to run uncontrollably, replaying content derived from what was seen and heard yet not limited to mere observation.

【Underground, water, moon】

And the power to tear through solid stone, the cut surface smoother than silver polished with fine silk. Those old cracks showed that this power had visited this place more than once.

When trying to temporarily ignore those things, one would find they were as profound as the long cracks carved into the hall, so deep that time could not blur them.

He placed the hand pressed against his temple onto the stone wall, feeling for a newly scratched mark at about waist height, a place requiring him to lower his head to see.

A fork in the road; the search team entered from the side with the mark.

Considering the search team needed to constantly observe the cave walls, catching up to them would probably not be too difficult.

What was somewhat uncomfortable was that moving upward did not make them feel they were gradually shedding the gloomy sense of unease.

Some indescribable atmosphere still lingered around them, as if the pale light had attached itself to their bodies along with the water mist when passing the hall, unable to be dispelled.

For Green, this feeling was particularly pronounced.

Unevenly distributed coldness came intermittently; a chilling intent drifted around his body, even invading the domain of the torch, as if two temperatures were distinctly embedded together.

The jagged sensation was so distinct that Green felt it was not a real temperature, but a sensory metaphor.

"Father, you do not look well." The monk behind him could not help but speak up to remind him.

Based on their usual understanding, this Father's physical condition was clearly not so poor that walking a bit would make his face turn pale; some intense internal conflict was draining his strength, yet he remained unaware of it.

"Do you feel a bit cold?" Green turned back, the question escaping from his bloodless lips. Only when he spoke did he realize he could not control his tongue well.

The answer was two synchronized head shakes. Although their clothes were partially soaked, the torches in their hands still provided considerable heat; the oil-soaked open flames made their shoulders burn.

"Do you feel cold?"

"Perhaps I do." Green pulled the flame closer to himself, but it was of no use.

He placed his hand on the cave wall, feeling the temperature of those bricks and stones; they remained as wet, cold, and hard as ever, the brick seams striking his fingertips as he walked, transmitting a rhythmic sensation.

This soothed part of the unease and allowed one to clearly feel oneself moving forward rather than treading in place.

One brick seam after another, in perfect order.

Between two brick seams, some other indentation struck his finger.

Instinctively, Green looked down, searching for that mark, but saw nothing; there was not a single crack on the smooth stone bricks.

Perhaps it was a momentary illusion, he thought.

Until another extra indentation struck his fingertip and extended forward with his palm. His fingertip followed the indentation, turning through an obtuse angle and entering another side of the figure.

"This is..."

His steps halted, his gaze shifting from ahead to the side, to the thing his hand had passed over. Before looking at it, Green had vaguely guessed what it was.

For the first time, something else appeared on the unchanging brick wall.

Palm-sized, six equal sides forming a closed figure. Several regular hexagons seamlessly joined together, forming a honeycomb-like pattern.

Unfinished lines wandered within the figure; starting as arcs, they deviated from their trajectory before completing half a circle, twisting and snaking into rune-like shapes. Occasionally, a straight line traversed the image, splitting the pattern in two.

It seemed two contradictory directions conflicted in the carver's mind, confused and unclear, ultimately causing the pattern within the regular hexagon to be abandoned halfway, left here.

A highly distinctive style, immediately linking it to that rubbing.

However, upon closer inspection, one could find the two were not entirely identical; size and pattern density were inconsistent.

"Why did they not return to report?"

These carvings were far too obvious; it was unimaginable that a ten-person team could pass by under any circumstances without noticing them.

Green tried to guess the situation at that time; perhaps they discovered something and were too eager to pursue to stop.

But this still could not explain why they were unwilling to spare personnel to return and notify.

【Unless they simply did not see them】

He almost thought it was his own visual hallucination, like the strange coldness wrapping around him. Yet the same pattern was reflected in the eyes of the two monks; their gazes were drawn to the patterns, unable to look away for a moment.

The mark at the next fork deepened the doubt.

The mark was neatly carved into the bricks; for reliability, it was filed several more times, showing no sign of time pressure whatsoever.

Carrying unease and suspicion, Green continued forward.

A deep, chilling coldness rushed to meet them, like suddenly falling into a deep abyss while wading with uneven steps; first producing a shiver of falling into an unfamiliar environment, with ice water covering mouth and nose, then a chill shivering through the whole body.

The vision through the flame appeared slightly and briefly distorted.

Then those things appeared.

He saw more hexagons, no longer just a few or a patch. They replaced the seams between the bricks, covering the entire cave wall; honeycomb cells climbed upward to the ceiling and descended into the gurgling water and mud below.

Contradictory figures repeated despairingly within them: straight lines traversing circles, winding flowing lines, conflicting and interweaving; each time nearing completion, they were interrupted by another.

The pain, doubt, and anger accumulated by the carver during the long work, along with a pathological longing for the original form, directly struck the eyes of the witnesses through visual impact.

Amidst the panic-inducing density of figures, they saw a back view.

A rusted back view. Red-brown rust spots and some barnacle-like biological growth traces covered the surface; connectors and chainmail were long since twisted and solidified, and on the breastplate, faintly recognizable were relief patterns plated with precious metals.

【A sword of unknown form】