Chapter Eleven: Creating the Rope

At the end of the waterway, it suddenly split into several branches. The two of them had thought they could simply follow the current and find their way out, but upon reaching the end, they discovered the water flowed off into narrow rivulets, each no more than two meters high. There was no way for them to escape. Then Danzi announced he was out of rope, prompting Longzi to ask, “Are you sure you don’t have any left? I still have a bit!” He shook his trouser belt.

“Come on! How are we supposed to use that? It's not even been used yet, and it’ll probably snap instantly.” Danzi glanced at the rope in Longzi’s hand. He had dropped his last bit of rope in his panic while fleeing from the corpse's grasp. Longzi, however, had managed to keep his own, but upon inspection, it was no thicker than a shoelace and barely two or three meters long. It would never support a person’s weight, nor could anyone grip such a thin rope.

“There’s always a way,” Longzi said. “Look at these willow branches—aren’t they sturdy?” He pointed at the tree branches. “Back home, we often use willow bark to make ropes and weave baskets.”

“Are you sure it’s strong enough?” Danzi was skeptical the bark could hold a person.

“We’ll break off some branches, pick the longest ones, and strip the bark,” Longzi assigned tasks. Danzi climbed up to break branches while Longzi stayed below to strip the bark.

Their teamwork paid off, and soon a pile of willow bark lay at their feet. Longzi instructed Danzi to follow his braiding technique, weaving each strand with three pieces, like a plait. Half an hour later, they had a rope nearly ten meters long, each section finished with a traditional tiger knot.

“This rope is solid!” Danzi declared, tugging it to test its strength.

Longzi also made good use of the willow branches, inserting two at regular intervals to enhance the rope’s tensile strength and flexibility. The result was a makeshift ladder; after tidying up, they prepared to move on.

“I’ll scout ahead this time—Danzi’s been a tree-climbing expert since childhood!” Danzi insisted on going first.

Longzi didn’t argue, not out of concern that Danzi would abandon him, but because it gave him a chance to tidy up the route map. He took out his notebook and pencil, continued sketching, noting the time and estimating distances.

He hadn’t really examined their path closely before. According to his earlier reasoning, they should be standing atop the turtle shell. Yet, all around was nothing but stone—no trace of a shell beneath their feet. Longzi fell into deep thought: had his deduction been wrong? Was there still another chamber below, or had they simply been walking on stone laid atop the shell? He was pondering when a sudden shout broke his concentration.

“Ow! Damn, Danzi nearly broke his bones! Why is this tree so slippery?” Danzi had slid down the trunk and landed hard, groaning in pain.

Longzi glanced up at him; Danzi looked at Longzi with hopeful eyes, seeking sympathy. But Longzi merely glanced, his gaze seemingly not even reaching Danzi, which left Danzi feeling disappointed.

“Couldn’t you comfort me a bit? My backside’s practically shattered!” Danzi said as he struggled to his feet and dusted himself off.

Longzi didn’t look up. “Who said he was the expert just now? Weren’t you supposed to be good at this?”

“You! Why are you always so sarcastic?” Danzi shot Longzi a mild glare. “That was when I was a kid! Now my body can’t keep up with the times. I’m all bones, not what I used to be.”

“Oh, is that so?” Longzi replied absently, still not looking up.

“You! What’s with this nonsense?” Danzi realized he wasn’t going to get any comfort, spat into his hands, rubbed his palms together, and muttered, “I don’t believe this—just a little tree, can’t defeat your Danzi! Watch me.”

After his fall, Danzi had gained some experience. Now, every few meters, he stabbed his knife into the trunk for support, paused to rest, and then continued climbing.

Soon, Danzi called down, “Come up! We can jump from this tree!” He repeated his call several times before Longzi finally looked up. Danzi waved enthusiastically from the top, grinning triumphantly as if he’d conquered a lion.

“Throw the rope down!” Longzi said.

Danzi had to rearrange the rope, winding it in loops. With a flourish, he tossed it, but it spun around the trunk and tangled in the branches midway. Danzi’s face turned sour.

“You really are something! Did you do that on purpose or was it just intentional? How am I supposed to get up?” Longzi finally began a normal conversation.

Danzi was secretly pleased, thinking, “Now you’ll have to ask me to toss the rope again!” He couldn’t see Longzi’s expression from below, only watched as Longzi took several items from his backpack.

He slowly put on his shoes and took out his shadow hook. Danzi spotted it immediately; if he’d thought of these gadgets earlier, he wouldn’t have fallen so hard.

Longzi had anticipated this; those tools—armor-piercing spikes and the shadow hook—weren’t things Danzi could use easily. They required skill and expertise, and would later prove invaluable in many adventures.

Longzi climbed up to the rope’s position with practiced ease, barely exerting himself. In no time, he stood beside Danzi, who was about to demand why Longzi hadn’t offered him those tools sooner.

Longzi cut him off, saying, “You couldn’t handle them.”

Danzi’s face twitched, and he raised his fist out of habit, but he wasn’t petty—it was just their usual roughhousing.

“It’s getting late; the sun’s almost down. We need to head back!” Longzi, seeing the sunset, felt a bit anxious.

“Damn it, I haven’t even scolded you yet, and you’re already changing the subject!” Danzi withdrew his raised fist, glanced at his watch, and said, “It really is late—already half past five.”

They swung back and forth on their makeshift “swing,” tracing graceful arcs, and landed smoothly on the ground. Longzi twisted his ankle slightly on landing, though it didn’t hinder his walking. Danzi declared, “See, fate is always fair!”

Longzi gave Danzi a light slap on the head, making him dizzy. Danzi, still supporting Longzi, freed one hand for their usual playful scuffle. After a few steps, Danzi suddenly cried out, “There’s a snake ahead!”

“A snake? Where?”