"Old Jasper, allies is one thing—dying together is entirely unnecessary."
"No, don't talk me out of it, don't shake the resolve I finally worked up," he said, still clenching his fists to steel himself. "I want to see the ultimate mystery too."
"OK, time's up." Morphine clapped her hands. "The Maze Trip is now officially underway. Actual participant count: 74. You have 15 doors before you—please choose a number and enter the maze."
From 1 through 15, each door bore a number.
It was clear this wasn't a trip you could complete alone. People began forming temporary alliances in groups of two or three, choosing their doors.
"Let's pick Door 6," I suggested. "Six-six—lucky number, let's borrow some good fortune."
Selene had no objection. Old Jasper nodded. "You do know your psychology."
Just as I was about to press the button for Door 6, a voice spoke up behind me: "Amitabha. Might this humble monk join your alliance and pass through together?"
I turned around—and it was the Iron Bell monk.
I asked, curious, "Aren't you Morphine's man?"
He pressed his palms together. "Benefactor Morphine promised to promote Buddhism in South America, build temples, and cast golden statues—that was why I temporarily served under her. Now that task is complete, I am also a contestant."
So that was it. He'd fought against me and Shiva as part of a deal.
This man's skills were impressive. Teaming up with him would significantly boost our survival odds. But I was still hesitant, so I consulted Selene and Old Jasper.
Old Jasper said, "Judging from his expression, he's probably telling the truth."
Selene said, "He may have worked for Morphine before, but he seems like an honorable person."
I scratched my head. I'd worried about some hidden scheme, but with both of them vouching for him, I had to agree. "Alright—more friends, more paths. You're with us. What should we call you, Master?"
"This humble one's dharma name is Brother Asher," he said, bowing his head.
"Guess we'll need Buddha's blessing, then." I said a silent prayer and pressed the button for Door 6.
The button turned green, and with a click, the door opened. The four of us walked through.
The moment we entered, the door behind us shut and locked. Just as Morphine had said—the route was irreversible. Forward only, no retreat.
Inside was a square room with three doors on three of the walls, each with a button beside it. A countdown screen hung on the wall, already ticking down from the moment we entered: 5 minutes.
In other words, if we didn't choose a door and leave within 5 minutes, we'd be sliced into chunks by laser beams.
But we couldn't just pick any door at random—that would only get us lost in the maze. And 150 minutes later, we'd still be diced into chunks.
Just the difference between dying sooner or dying later.
I scrutinized the room carefully. The three doors each bore a pattern made of abstract mosaics—completely indecipherable shapes. In the center of the room stood a table, and on the table lay a scroll, apparently a painting.
According to the rules, the clue to the correct door would be found in the room. So the scroll must be the hint.
We unrolled it—and the image that met our eyes was dazzling, overflowing with people, buildings, and scenery. This was none other than a reproduction of "Along the River During the Qingming Festival"!
Selene mused, "The clue must be hidden in this painting."
My head started to ache. I'm no art expert, but I'd certainly heard of "Along the River During the Qingming Festival." It depicted the bustling capital of the Northern Song dynasty—not to mention the teahouses, apothecaries, and government offices, the painting featured over a thousand distinct figures, more than in both Romance of the Three Kingdoms and Dream of the Red Chamber combined.
Finding a clue in here would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.
And no matter how I looked, I couldn't connect this painting with those postmodern mosaic patterns on the three doors.
In the time it took me to puzzle over this, two minutes had already elapsed. I was sweating bullets.
"Brother Asher, you monks do daily studies, right? Are you any good at poetry, calligraphy, or painting?" I asked anxiously.
"Amitabha... I'm a martial monk."
Time ticked by, second by second. Another minute gone, and we still hadn't found a single clue.
"This is impossible..." I groaned, clutching my head.
It felt just like high school, facing impossibly complex math problems with no idea where to begin.
"Calm down, don't panic." Selene quickly steadied herself. "Maybe our approach to observing is wrong."
"It's just a painting—how else can we observe it?"
"We can't pore over tiny details—that'll take way too long. Quick, unroll the painting fully, step back, and look at the whole thing. Find whatever looks off."
The fully unrolled painting stretched over five meters, practically filling the room. I stepped back and surveyed it from a distance—all I saw was a crush of traffic, peddlers, and dense crowds that made my head throb.
"I've got it!" Jasper suddenly shouted, pointing at something on the painting. "There! Look—the figure on the bridge!"
I followed his finger. "Where?"
"The one on the bridge holding an umbrella—he has no face!"
I looked carefully and, sure enough, among the bustling crowd on the arched bridge was an inconspicuous little figure. Unlike everyone around him, his entire face was blank—featureless!
"That can't be the painter's oversight. It must be the clue they left for us," Selene concluded.
We'd found the clue, but what did it mean? And how did it connect to the mosaic patterns on the three doors?
We were stuck again.
I glanced at the timer. Time was draining away second by second. The pressure had my back drenched in sweat.
Even in the most dangerous trips before, I'd never felt this helpless.
I'd already made my peace with the worst-case scenario: if we couldn't solve it, we'd pick a random door. Even if we'd be shredded in 150 minutes, at least we'd live a little longer.
"This humble monk believes these mosaics aren't entirely random..." Brother Asher squinted at them. "Look there—it seems to resemble the shape of a mouth."
At his words, we all started squinting at the doors too, stepping back as we studied them. Then, like a bolt of lightning through my skull, I practically jumped: "I see it! These are close-ups of a face!"
Every image is composed of pixels. Magnify those patterns dozens or hundreds of times, and they become blocky mosaics. And these mosaic patterns were sections of a face, blown up to extreme magnification.
Which meant, if we matched these patterns into the featureless face on the painting, we'd find the answer!
Hope flared in our chests. We narrowed our eyes, mentally reconstructing the full picture of these facial features. With direction, we quickly assembled the rough outlines.
These were indeed three different faces—or rather, the same face from different angles. One was looking up, one looking down, and one turning to glance backward.
The answer was obvious now!
The faceless figure in "Along the River During the Qingming Festival" was holding an umbrella, and his head was tilted upward—so his eyes would naturally be looking up!
"Found it!" I strode toward the door with the upward-looking face and reached for the button.
"Wait!" Old Jasper suddenly called out.
"What is it?" I looked at him. "Something wrong?"
"Something's very wrong. A seven-million-yuan prize level, and we solve the first room this easily?" He frowned. "I don't know art, but I know history. When Zhang Zeduan painted 'Along the River During the Qingming Festival,' the Northern Song dynasty was apparently prosperous, but dark clouds were already gathering. The Jin and Liao dynasties were watching like hawks, Fang La was rebelling in the south, Goryeo was stirring—and forces on all sides were ready to strike..."
"Get to the damn point!" I shouted. "We're almost out of time!"
Old Jasper glanced at the countdown and cut straight to it: "Shortly after 'Along the River During the Qingming Festival' was completed, the Jin army swept into the Northern Song capital and massacred Bianjing. Do you think that's a coincidence? In history, nothing is a coincidence—everything is calculated! Look beneath the bridge—there's a boat, and one figure on it is clearly dressed as a Jin person. So..."