Chapter 101: “Don’t Be Afraid, It’s Dad…”

Chapter 101 "Don't be afraid, it's just Dad..."

The three dice landed, and Eurus stared at the results before helplessly raising a hand to cover her eyes, unable to bear looking further.

Yi Fengchu's voice also paused suspiciously for a moment, as if sighing at her astonishingly poor luck. "Hmm... 1 point, 3 points, 1 point—total of 5 points. Check failed."

He mercilessly narrated: "Player Eurus fumbled desperately with the mechanical watch for a while, but under her clumsy handling, not only was the watch not repaired, its parts were scattered even worse."

Eurus: "..."

She attempted one last effort. In her mind, if communication was possible, then persuasion through words might also work.

Eurus pleaded, "Mr. Yi, could you... cut me some slack this time? Can I try rolling again?"

Yi Fengchu's tone remained gentle and polite, but his stance was unyielding: "No."

He was just overseeing the dice rolls—that didn’t mean he had to unconditionally indulge these players or hold their hands through everything.

If they couldn’t even handle every little obstacle along the way, what right did these players have to hope for fate’s blessing and reach the end?

Moreover—in Yi Fengchu’s view, showing excessive favoritism to a select few would be unfair to the majority of living beings.

Eurus wasn’t particularly surprised by his refusal. She had merely tried her luck, not expecting such a mysterious and powerful being to be easily swayed by her words...

After all, they were strangers. In the eyes of a divine being who might be close to immortality, what was she? A grain of sand?

As Yi Fengchu spoke, Eurus’ body moved on its own.

Just as the narration described, she held the watch close to her eyes, staring at it with an expression of fierce concentration. Yet her stiff, clumsy fingers only managed to make an even bigger mess of it.

With a *clink*, a gear popped out of the watch and rolled to the Scholar’s feet.

Bending down to pick it up, the Scholar sighed and extended a hand to Eurus. "I once apprenticed in the clockmaking trade and have some foundational knowledge. Perhaps my chances of repairing it are slightly higher."

Yi Fengchu stated, "Though Eurus didn’t achieve her desired outcome, fortunately, her companion—Player Rui Arnold—has some experience in mechanical repairs. Will he be able to apply his knowledge correctly and fix this problem?"

Thus, it was the Scholar’s turn to roll the dice.

Since he had relevant knowledge, Yi Fengchu lowered the judgment threshold—only requiring a total of 9 points or more from three dice to pass.

Yet reality proved that this snowy mountain was a world ruled by luck, not knowledge.

The Scholar stared at his roll—2 points, 3 points, 3 points—and fell silent.

Yi Fengchu also sighed regretfully. "This player tried his best. He possesses both dexterous hands and ample knowledge... It’s just a shame he just didn't have the luck."

"Perhaps the cold weather affected him, or maybe temporarily blurred vision impaired his abilities. Rui managed to put back together somewhat the watch, patiently sorting every component into specific categories. Yet it still couldn’t be reassembled into a functioning timepiece."

Lena spoke up: "Let me try. I know nothing about the mechanics of this world’s watches, but I might have a bit of luck on my side."

"Praise be to fate. May my Lord grant me fortune as always."

With that, she took the watch from the Scholar’s hands.

The three dice were tossed once more, spinning under the players’ tense gazes until they formed blurs of silver.

When the final results appeared, everyone let out a collective sigh of relief—three perfect sixes.

At that moment, even though the other three players didn’t follow the Lord of Fate, they couldn’t help but echo Lena’s words in their hearts: *Praise be to fate.*

Facing a believer, Yi Fengchu’s tone softened further as he announced:

"Congratulations, Player Lena. Judgment passed."

"Despite knowing nothing about mechanics, she handled the watch with a willingness to try."

"Fortunately, the moment Lena touched the watch, it was as if she awakened an innate talent for repair. After some guesswork and fiddling, the watch miraculously restored itself..."

"What an absurdly forced explanation," Eurus remarked. "Turning an almost impossible improbability into reality—is this what peak luck looks like?"

At this level, it was as if fate itself was pushing one toward success... Such a wondrous ability even made her a little envious.

Eurus pressed her lips together, thinking: *Maybe next time, I’ll ‘experience’ an Ability from the Fate Domain?*

Unaware that someone was already eyeing her Ability, Lena moved as if she had a natural knack for mechanics, her fingers weaving skillfully through countless gears and parts.

Soon, a beat-up but whole watch took shape under her hands. Through its scratched and cracked glass cover, the stopped time on its face was visible—February 1st, 2013, 6:33 PM.

"So it’s 2013 now... probably right around when Zhang’s father went up the mountain?"

Making note of this, the group followed the blood trail in the snow toward the fourth peak.

......

Zhang Ming woke up groggy.

Before even opening his eyes, he felt aches all over, as if he’d been leaning against cold, hard stone. He jerked upright, surveying his surroundings and realizing he was in a dim, elongated cave. Though shielded from wind and snow, the place carried an eerily still and empty silence.

...Where was this?

How had he ended up here the moment he opened his eyes?

Memories from before his unconsciousness gradually resurfaced, causing Zhang Ming’s dazed eyes to widen abruptly, his hands trembling.

He remembered now!

After stepping out of the tent, he’d been met with a vanished campfire, an empty campsite, and—when he circled behind the tent—an unnaturally stretched, soft-bodied monster gnawing on a human head!

Frozen in terror, Zhang Ming hadn’t even managed to run before his breath hitched, his vision blacked out, and he passed out cold from fright...

Yet he never imagined that he would wake up alone in this unfamiliar place, with no sign of the monster, heads, or corpses.

So where had the monster gone? Was it coming back for him?

Zhang Ming tensed immediately. Squinting, he scrutinized his surroundings more carefully while figuring out how to escape the cave and reunite with his companions.

The cave’s structure was peculiar—the ground sloped gently, but the cylindrical tunnel wound smoothly, lacking the jagged edges typical of natural rock formations. It almost resembled a giant hollow tube.

The tunnel curved ahead, and Zhang Ming couldn’t see beyond the bend. But flickering torchlight cast a man's shadow against the stone wall.

—Someone was sitting in the cave?

Was this his rescuer?

Zhang Ming’s lips parted, on the verge of shouting to escape his terrifying isolation, but the thought of whatever monster might be lurking made him hesitate and snapped his mouth shut, afraid to make any rash noise.

As he hesitated, the man spoke first.

The man's voice and tone were hauntingly familiar, though slightly hoarse, like gravel grinding: "Xiao Ming, are you awake? It's me."

Zhang Ming went rigid.

After several shaky breaths, he choked out, recognizing the voice: "D-Dad? You’re actually...?"

You’re alive?

Then whose head was that?

"That's right. I went missing in the mountains for so long, but I'm still alive," his father said in a low voice. "I've been trapped here... waiting for someone to rescue me..."

"At last, my wait is over—I waited for you to come."

At this point, his father seemed choked up, his voice cracking: "You came to these mountains to look for me, didn't you? How long has it been? You've grown so much..."

This ought to have been a tearful reunion, but Zhang Ming didn’t know how to respond.

After radio silence for ten-plus years, Zhang Ming had once believed as a child that his father had abandoned him and his mother. What scraps of love could possibly remain in his heart?

As for why he came to the mountains...

Zhang Ming couldn’t possibly say the truth: "Dad, actually, I came to gather evidence of your accidental death to claim the life insurance money. I didn’t really care whether you were alive or dead."

If he actually said that, forget his father’s likely unstable mental state—even if his father were completely sane, he’d kill him right then and there.

So, Zhang Ming could only let out a strained chuckle, covering his tracks: "I came up the mountain in January 2024. You’ve really been missing for so long... We were all worried about you..."

While mumbling distractedly, his eyes continued darting around the cavern, noticing more details.

By the firelight, Zhang Ming saw strange, arc-shaped patterns covering the tunnel walls. Staring for a while, he finally recognized them:

They somewhat resembled scales—just far too large, a good 15 to 20 inches across. Their sheer size warped them into something alien, which was why he hadn’t recognized them immediately.

They couldn’t actually be scales... could they?

Zhang Ming’s mind wandered. If these were truly the scales of some creature, he couldn’t even imagine how massive its full form would be... It broke all known biology.

The cave fell silent for a moment as Zhang Ming worked feeling back into his deadened legs.

In the flickering firelight, his father’s dark shadow remained motionless, his posture statue-still. Suddenly, he spoke again: "Xiao Ming, I thought you’d be more curious... like, what exactly happened to me in these mountains."

Only then did Zhang Ming realize his reaction had indeed been odd—as if he already knew something...

No, he couldn’t let his father know he’d seen the distress signal long ago but delayed coming!

God only knew how his father would react if provoked?

Just then, Zhang Ming felt his legs recover slightly. He slowly braced against the wall and stood, edging backward silently. "Dad, I know you’ve been through a lot. These years must have been hard..."

"But we can talk about all this once we’re safely down the mountain, somewhere with four walls and a heater."

After retreating a dozen steps, the back of his head thunked against something unyielding.

Zhang Ming assumed it was vines hanging from the ceiling and impatiently reached back to push them aside—only to freeze the moment his fingers made contact.

No, this wasn’t...

These were two legs, clad in trousers.

Someone was hanging from the cave ceiling!

A corpse...

The touch left a sticky residue on his palm, sending revulsion and dread shooting through him.

Why was there a dead body in the cave?

Zhang Ming stiffly looked up toward his father’s shadow.

Only then did he notice—why there’d been no rise and fall of breath while his father was speaking?

His thoughts short-circuited from pure terror, his temples throbbing dully.

He didn’t know what drove him—perhaps instinct to flee the corpse, perhaps longing for light—but he lunged blindly toward the firelit bend in the tunnel, where he saw his father’s face—

Pale, eyes unnaturally wide, vein-popped and distended, ready to burst. His facial muscles were rigid, mouth gaping without breath, locked in a final silent shriek...

The figure "speaking" to Zhang Ming had been a cold corpse all along!

The corpse had been arranged deep in the bend, posed upright so the firelight cast a living shadow on the wall...

Zhang Ming’s heart stuttered. A realization struck him:

Corpses couldn’t talk.

So who had been using his father’s voice?

The cave’s echoes had masked it, but now he understood—the voice hadn’t come from the shadow. It came from—

Trembling, Zhang Ming looked up and locked eyes with a lizard-like creature clinging to the ceiling, its limbs grotesquely elongated and limp.

It tilted its head, staring at him, and crooned in his father’s exact cadence:

"Xiao Ming? Are you scared?"

"Don’t be afraid... It’s just Dad..."