Chapter 567: Chu Mo Island (Thirty-Two)
Chapter 567: Chu Mo Island (Thirty-Two)
After Fei Chai Shu took a moment to observe, the symbols on the stone wall were quickly matched one-to-one with the markings on the Violin String.
Fei Chai Shu’s music theory knowledge proved surprisingly solid. After familiarizing himself briefly with the Banjo in hand, he began plucking the strings according to the symbols.
The melody wasn’t long—just a few seconds to play through—but its sound was peculiar, bordering on discordant without quite becoming noise.
Yet after Fei Chai Shu finished playing, he waited five or six heartbeats with nothing happening.
"Huh?" He blinked, frowning. "No reaction at all? Did I mess up the notes?"
Feng Bu Jue chuckled. "Just play it again."
"Alright, let me try once more", Fei Chai Shu replied, launching immediately into the melody.
But the result remained unchanged...
"This time I know I played it right..." Fei Chai Shu muttered, puzzled.
"It’s not a mistake in the notes", Hong Hu adjusted his glasses, analyzing, "You played the exact same melody twice, note-perfect. Which means the first attempt was flawless as well."
Fei Chai Shu paused, considering. "Then...could it be the playing technique?"
"Eh...that’s where I’m out of my depth", Feng Bu Jue admitted helplessly.
While Feng Bu Jue’s memory and reasoning were sharp, his foundation of practical knowledge had limits. With zero Banjo-playing experience, even he couldn’t offer insights.
After a few moments’ thought, Fei Chai Shu said, "Wait a second, all of you." He adjusted his left hand’s posture—changing the pressure on the strings—and played once more.
This time, before the Banjo’s final note faded, the glowing pattern on the stone wall flared brightly.
Then, the central section of the wall began to sink slowly downward...
"So it required open string plucking..." Fei Chai Shu shrugged, removing the Banjo and tucking it into his satchel. "I wasted so much time analyzing that ‘score,’ when all I needed to do was pluck the open strings in order. No left-hand pressure needed at all." He paused, realization dawning. "Wait...this means even a layman could play it. It didn’t need to be me."
"You’re absolutely right", Tian Ma Xing Kong chimed in, "But even if I followed the symbols and did open string plucking, I doubt I’d succeed on the first try like you did." He grinned sheepishly. "Come to think of it, when I first joined the studio, I scored zero on the music game test. Couldn’t hit a single note right."
Feng Bu Jue laughed. "Even using your armpit for Guitar Hero or butt-dancing on the Dance Dance Revolution pad wouldn’t get you to zero. And you have the gall to admit it with a proud smile?"
Hong Hu adjusted his glasses. "What I don’t understand is how someone like you got recruited by a studio known as the ‘Star Factory.’"
Tian Ma Xing Kong crossed his arms. "Simple. I crushed the tests for other games. Broke records in martial arts and gambling simulations."
Hong Hu pushed his glasses up, summarizing dryly. "So you’re both versatile and lucky."
Whoosh—
As they spoke, the stone door at the wall’s center had fully descended. With a final hiss as it locked into place, dust burst from the seams.
Ji Bu flicked his sleeve twice, dispersing the dust before sheathing his weapon.
"This passage definitely ascends upward", Feng Bu Jue remarked, already activating his Catapult. Its spotlight illuminated the corridor ahead. "About two meters in both height and width. If traps activate mid-path..." He glanced back. "Evasion might get tricky. Let me take point. Form a single-file line behind me."
Hong Hu raised an eyebrow. "Any rationale for this sudden command?"
Feng Bu Jue’s expression soured. You gotta be kidding me...
"Rationale?" Feng Bu Jue repeated, taking a deep breath. "Specifically? My calm under pressure, lightning reflexes, agile movements, and tactical wit make me uniquely qualified for this role. Plainly? Because I’m bold yet meticulous, and let’s not forget—" He smirked, "—exceptionally handsome."
Hong Hu squinted, staring for several seconds. "Surprisingly, you’ve made a case. Except for the ‘handsome’ part, I can’t refute your logic. Lead on then."
The others had no objections. Letting a capable, if self-absorbed, member take point was common sense. They formed their line—Feng Bu Jue first, followed by Tian Ma Xing Kong, Fei Chai Shu, Ji Bu, and finally Hong Hu—and ventured into the corridor.
The passage walls were uniformly gray stone, their oppressive smoothness amplifying the silence. Soon, conversation faded entirely. The only sights were featureless rock faces; the only sounds, footsteps and labored breathing. Perspective vanished—forward or backward, distance became impossible to judge.
A creeping doubt took root: Am I even moving forward?
We definitely made the right choice, Feng Bu Jue mused, to eat first. This path was far more treacherous than it appeared—ascending constantly, the incline steepening. The bare walls offered no reference points, while the temperature dropped steadily. His teammates’ faces grew paler with each step.
"Physical energy drains faster here", he calculated, "distance perception blurs, and psychological stress compounds the physical burden. Without food, hunger would’ve crippled us."
He smiled faintly, leading the group. "Good thing I’m the one guiding. Someone’s got to bear the extra mental strain of watching for emergencies."
(End of Chapter)
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