Chapter 61: Traverse (2)

61 – Traverse (2)

After the crown was placed on his head, it was gently adjusted and secured.

Lin Xun looked at Dong Jun and blinked.

He asked, “Aren’t you going to be King Arthur?”

Dong Jun picked up the wand placed beside the crown. “I think you’re more suited for it.”

Lin Xun smiled. “Alright.”

They turned and walked toward the entrance of the church—the Gothic spires made the entire structure eerie and solemn, while the only entrance was exceptionally dark and deep.

As they approached, Lin Xun saw the interior—the murals, pillars, and stained glass windows were rendered with striking realism.

However, the moment he and Dong Jun stepped through the doorway—

The lights went out.

The door behind them slammed shut.

The entire church plunged into utter darkness, so complete that they couldn’t see their own hands, let alone the person beside them.

“So realistic,” Lin Xun murmured softly, then asked Dong Jun, “Are you beside me?”

“Yes,” came Dong Jun’s voice from nearby.

Lin Xun thought for a moment. “We can’t see the way. Maybe we should find a wall first and follow it.”

After a brief silence, he heard Dong Jun say, “Do you need to hold hands?”

“Ah… sure,” Lin Xun replied.

—In such darkness, following normal logic, of course they should hold onto each other to avoid getting separated.

If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t have hesitated and might even have suggested it himself.

After a faint rustle of fabric, a hand grasped his wrist.

The grip was light, then slid downward, loosely holding his fingers.

Lin Xun lowered his gaze, keeping his tone casual. “Let’s go to the right.”

Based on his memory from when they entered, the church’s entrance was closer to the right wall.

Lin Xun was on the right, so he was leading Dong Jun.

Complete darkness made everything feel surreal. After a few steps, Lin Xun said, “I feel like we’re about to run into a wall.”

“Stop for a moment,” Dong Jun pressed his hand lightly.

Lin Xun asked, “Hmm?”

“There’s a button here.”

The next second, the tip of the wand glowed with a faint, cold light, illuminating a small area around them.

Lin Xun laughed. “Of course, you’re the wizard.”

Dong Jun said, “This way.”

After passing through the pillars and the hall, two doors appeared at the edge of the illuminated area.

This was a castle-style maze—meaning there would be many intricate corridors, staircases, and rooms, perhaps with unexpected events. Their goal was to find the correct path to reach the center of the castle.

For Lin Xun, navigating a maze was like an algorithm—traversal or search, something of that sort.

Step one: choose any path.

Dong Jun asked, “Which one do you choose?”

Lin Xun thought for a moment. “The right.”

Dong Jun said, “Then turn right?”

Lin Xun replied, “Alright.”

Step two: once a direction is chosen, at every subsequent fork, continue turning in that direction. If it leads to a dead end, backtrack and choose another path—still adhering to the original direction. When all paths at a fork have been explored, return to the previous fork and make a new choice.

In short, as long as one follows this rule, they can traverse all paths in the maze with extremely high efficiency and naturally find the target location—far more straightforward than wandering around like a headless fly, with a very high success rate. It’s simple, but that’s the charm of a fixed method—the core of what we call an algorithm is finding a set of fixed methods and processes that can solve complex problems in various forms.

They entered the right fork, where the light illuminated the oil painting frames on the walls, crafted with remarkable realism. This room’s wall concealed a hidden door leading to a narrow, cramped staircase, barely wide enough for two people to pass through.

The surrounding atmosphere was oppressive and claustrophobic, compounded by the pervasive darkness. Though it was merely a maze, it managed to evoke the eerie ambiance of a haunted house—perhaps that was its charm? Then they could market it as a gimmick, promoting it as a way to deepen romantic bonds.

Unfortunately, the two of them were neither a couple nor easily frightened.

Lin Xun remained calm as he ascended the stairs. The wooden steps creaked underfoot, and the handrail trembled precariously, as if it might snap at any moment.

Feeling the rough texture of the wooden handrail and breathing in the slightly damp air of the castle, he remarked, “It still feels quite realistic.”

Dong Jun replied, “Virtual reality can’t fully replicate reality yet.”

As Lin Xun continued upward, he said, “That would require too much computational power… But I’ve seen many positive reviews about Nutshell, praising its highly realistic holographic experience. How did Galaxy solve this?”

“Montage,” Dong Jun explained. “Only key information needs to be provided; users will mentally fill in the gaps.”

Dong Jun didn’t walk side by side with him but stayed one step behind.

Lin Xun asked, “For example… only performing complex computations to model the limited area around me, while appropriately blurring the rest?”

Dong Jun replied, “You could say that.”

Lin Xun was about to say more when the handrail beneath his hand suddenly shook, causing him to lose his balance for a moment.

In the next instant, Dong Jun grabbed his arm, counteracting the force and steadying Lin Xun’s center of gravity, preventing him from falling backward.

Lin Xun murmured, “…Thank you.”

Dong Jun remained silent. Recalling the subtlety of that momentary action, Lin Xun suddenly realized that Dong Jun’s positioning was quite deliberate. On such a steep staircase, if Lin Xun had shown any sign of falling—whether forward or backward—Dong Jun’s position would have allowed him to catch him in time. If they had been walking side by side, if Dong Jun had been ahead of him, or if there had been two steps between them instead of one, such an action would have been impossible.

He thought Dong Jun was quite skilled, very practiced.

—Had he done this sort of thing often before?

Lin Xun felt he was being overly suspicious.

He dismissed the thought and focused on navigating the maze—as a game, it was actually quite enjoyable.

After ascending the stairs, the second floor no longer required wand lighting. Candles flickered on the walls, and robot knights patrolled the area. A five-meter-diameter light circle at their feet indicated the detection range; if detected, players would be captured.

This section was easy to pass through. It was merely a matter of identifying the patrol patterns, as simple as drinking cold water.

Lin Xun led Dong Jun as they weaved between the patrolling knights, quickly making their way through the corridor.

He: “I don’t think it’s that simple. We could make it more complex, add some unexpected events—”

As soon as the words “unexpected events” left his mouth, he caught sight of a glowing ring rapidly charging around the corner.

Dong Jun seemed to let out a soft chuckle.

The mechanical knight was incredibly fast, and the range of its light ring far exceeded that of its companions, nearly capable of scanning the entire corridor.

Lin Xun was suddenly pressed against the wall by Dong Jun.

They were pressed close together, and the faint scent of cologne instantly grew near.

Lin Xun looked up at Dong Jun, who was slightly taller than him, inevitably creating a sense of pressure. Under the dim light, the man’s features were not clear, yet in that moment, they exuded a dreamlike, almost surreal allure—perhaps this was what montage felt like.

He felt something brush past his heart, light as a fallen leaf touching the surface of water, yet the ripples spread far and wide.

In that moment of ripples, he dared not meet Dong Jun’s eyes, instead turning his gaze toward the mechanical knight.

The knight’s light ring swept across the entire corridor, but Dong Jun had calculated the distance with perfect precision. At the corner of the corridor—a right angle—it became a blind spot in the knight’s circular detection range. He watched as the light ring narrowly missed their hiding place, then turned and headed in another direction just before making contact.

Watching the knight retreat into the distance, he let out a slight sigh of relief and said to Dong Jun, “…It’s gone.”

Dong Jun slowly released him. “My apologies.”

“Not at all,” Lin Xun replied with a faint smile, glancing toward the other end of the corridor. “There seem to be many corridors on this floor.”

With the wall lamps now lit, they no longer needed to hold hands. Instead, they walked side by side, dodging mechanical knights while engaging in aimless conversation—mostly centered around a useless yet intricate search algorithm.

Upon reaching the third floor, things became slightly more complicated, with traps and mechanisms appearing, but they managed to navigate them without incident. They followed the right-hand rule for a long time—only to find themselves back at the starting point of the third floor. It was a closed loop.

In theory, this was impossible. The structure here wasn’t complex, and they had already explored every possible path.

He exchanged a glance with Dong Jun, then continued turning into the right-hand fork.

After five turns, they pushed aside an overly large painting of the Virgin Mary, behind which was a hidden door. Passing through the passageway, a spiral staircase appeared before them.

At the end of the spiral staircase, the light was dazzling.

A sword was embedded in a piece of jade—dark silver with flowing crimson patterns, unmistakably the Chixiao Longque Sword.

At the same time, a figure clad in knight’s armor slowly turned around, his gaze meeting Lin Xun’s through the slit in his visor.

Lin Xun: “…”

Yufeng Zhenren: “…”

The knight, impersonated by Yufeng Zhenren, planted the tip of his greatsword on the ground and slowly spoke—words Lin Xun had heard countless times before. There was an entertainment file in the “Loving Family” group chat dedicated to Yufeng Zhenren reciting his lines.

“He who draws the sacred sword shall become the monarch of the Holy Empire of England,” the guardian knight’s voice was aged yet powerful. “Unless you defeat me, you are unworthy to touch the hilt.”

“But I have no sword,” Lin Xun attempted to hint at Yufeng Zhenren to go easy on him. “Why not let me try drawing the sword first?”

The guardian knight replied, “I will not trust your deceitful words. I can wrestle you barehanded.”

Did they really have to fight?

He tried to hint at Yufeng Zhenren with his eyes.

Yufeng Zhenren seemed not to have received the hint.

Just as Lin Xun was pondering sweet talk, he heard Dong Jun beside him say, “I can replace him in a duel with you.”

After a moment of silence, the knight said, “Having loyal followers is one of the conditions for becoming a monarch. I exceptionally allow you to touch the holy sword.”

Lin Xun felt that Yufeng Zhenren had indeed received the hint and adapted flexibly, making this “going easy” appear very natural.

But he certainly couldn’t step forward himself.

He began his performance: “I request to approach with my mage.”

The sword-guarding knight played along: “I permit it.”

Lin Xun pulled Dong Jun forward.

Just as they stepped onto the stone platform, a beam of light shone on them, solemn music echoed around, and a short film recounting the legend of King Arthur played behind them—this likely signified clearing the game, as touching the sword itself wasn’t necessary at all.

The sword-guarding knight presented a box, saying it was a reward for clearing within the time limit.

Lin Xun glanced at him.

The sword-guarding knight cleared his throat: “For this month’s amusement park event, if one truly manages to pull out the sword, they will receive an even greater reward package.”

—Indeed, how could Yufeng Zhenren allow anyone who came here not to attempt pulling the sword.

He looked at Dong Jun: “You go first.”

This request was perfectly normal; no one could detect any trickery in it.

Dong Jun seemed to smile slightly, his right hand slowly gripping the hilt.

His fingers were slender and elegant, with distinct knuckles—clearly not ordinary hands.

Lin Xun watched unblinkingly as Dong Jun tightened his grip, appearing to exert force to pull the sword—but after five seconds, the scene remained unchanged.

Dong Jun released the hilt: “Can’t pull it out.”

Lin Xun breathed a sigh of relief, feeling momentarily complex. The future of the cultivation world was growing more perilous, but Dong Jun truly wasn’t from this realm.

As he pondered, he met Dong Jun’s gaze.

Dong Jun glanced at him faintly, his expression seemingly amused. This look made Lin Xun slightly guilty, feeling as though this person had already seen through him.

Then he heard Dong Jun say: “Your turn.”

Lin Xun had no other choice but to grasp the sword and go through the motions—back at Qingcheng Mountain, he had already tried pulling this sword and couldn’t do it.

This time was the same; the sword remained motionless, as if no force could possibly extract it from the stone.

But in the next moment, as his focus intensified, the complex code interface on the Chixiao Longque sword appeared before Lin Xun’s eyes just like last time. According to Wang Anquan, Chixiao Longque contained a powerful antivirus program far beyond current standards.

Unlike last time, there was now an additional copy button representing the Teleportation Technique.

Lin Xun remembered clearly the words on the secret manual’s title page.

Teleportation Technique: usable on allies or non-living entities.

Non-living entities.

At this moment, Lin Xun suddenly knew what he should do.