Fang Senyan was caught in a quandary.
Undoubtedly, he was a man of decisive action, whose keen and meticulous mind usually allowed him to process multiple outcomes in an instant before optimizing the best course.
But...
but! The situation he currently faced was far too bizarre, and the potential stakes were immense.
Much of what the mysterious voice had mentioned was utterly new to Fang Senyan—things like being able to escape the Nightmare Space, or the existence of offensive types of MTs, fighting defense with attack! These concepts sounded preposterous at first glance, completely outside the realm of conventional thought, yet upon deeper reflection, they possessed an inherent logic that made it impossible to find any flaw.
Moreover, Fang Senyan was acutely aware that if someone wished to deceive, the best method was to weave nine threads of truth into ten, making a single lie all the more convincing.
These conflicting emotions wrestled within him: one part desperately wanted to believe the voice, while his rationality warned him against trust.
Finally, Fang Senyan submerged his head in the seawater for a full ten minutes before posing several questions to himself: First: If his strength didn't increase this time, would he certainly die in the next world? Definitely not.
Second: If he followed the mysterious voice's instructions, what was the risk? A mortality rate exceeding 40%.
Third: Even if the mysterious voice spoke the truth, it admitted it lacked the power to help him.
What was the potential reward? The reward was likely just finding a path to a breakthrough.
After these three questions and answers, Fang Senyan reached his conclusion: the risk did not warrant the reward.
Sacrificing over 40% mortality for a possible method of breakthrough was, in business terms, a miserably evaluated project...
so, abandon it.
However, abandoning the prospect felt deeply unsatisfactory.
The voice carried an undeniable ring of truth, and more critically, Fang Senyan was genuinely lost regarding the path forward.
Thus, Fang Senyan made a compromise.
As the saying went, one has no right to speak without investigation.
He would set the matter aside for now, conduct a physical reconnaissance, and only then draw a final conclusion.
In his life, Fang Senyan had always loved the ocean—warm, humid, and he had never harbored any desire to scale cold, towering snow peaks; thus, he was utterly ignorant on the subject.
Yet, Fang Senyan understood that climbing high peaks was inherently dangerous: lethally low temperatures, blizzards, avalanches, and getting lost were all deadly factors.
Fortunately, the modern information network was highly developed.
After some research, he discovered that conquering high mountains essentially required only two preparations from anyone.
The first was a sufficiently strong body, And the second was ample financial resources.
Coincidentally, Fang Senyan was exceptionally strong in both categories.
His physical conditioning needed no discussion; even several average humans combined might not match him.
As for money...
having secured the patronage of a stunningly attractive and incredibly wealthy female director, Fang Senyan now possessed a card that seemingly allowed unlimited withdrawals from global banks, provided he didn't attempt to move several hundred million Euros in a single transaction.
Following a spree of ultimate procurement, Fang Senyan located the address and phone number of the largest mountaineering agency in Nepal online.
After some negotiation—or rather, a massive infusion of cash—the agency's hundreds of employees sprang into frantic, overnight action.
Consequently, by the time Fang Senyan landed at Tribhuvan International Airport in Kathmandu, everything was prepared; the cost being that the majority of the agency's staff had taken emergency leave to catch up on sleep.
Kathmandu was saturated with the aura of millennia of ancient sediment, yet simultaneously trendy under the impact of modern luxury and progress—a grand medley where tradition and modernity intertwined.
Numerous temples were wedged between rudimentary slum dwellings.
On the outskirts, upscale hotels, restaurants, and high-end boutiques were not uncommon.
As Fang Senyan’s eyes adjusted to the cultural atmosphere, he mentally partitioned the city of four hundred thousand residents into two distinct zones: one, a sacred religious domain filled with red-walled temples; the other, a chaotic metropolis choked with monkeys, beggars, and exhaust fumes.
Simultaneously, Fang Senyan cautioned himself against getting lost here, as the streets were winding, narrow, and often lacked direction.
Notice boards everywhere were plastered with notes offering porters, guides, and travel companions, giving an impression of a global village.
Upon arriving at Thamel, the district housing the mountaineering agency, Fang Senyan met the three seasoned guides assigned to him.
This combination of two men and one woman appeared quite reliable.
The three men possessed skin darkened by weather, their crow's feet and forehead wrinkles deep as folded creases, yet their musculature was sharply defined.
Their primary roles involved hauling supplies, tents, and all manner of cumbersome equipment up the mountain.
The woman introduced herself as Hashimi.
Around thirty, she possessed an undeniably ample figure, spoke fluent English, and invariably offered a smile before speaking.
Fang Senyan suspected she carried at least partial Western heritage.
The agency head’s introduction was brief: “This is Taba, Janya, and Guro.
They are as strong as three adult water buffalo and have served numerous national climbing teams.
For the location you require, they have been there six times.
Miss Hashimi is the most famous guide in all of Kathmandu, not just for her eloquent speech and dedication, but because she is herself an expert mountaineer, holding multiple internationally recognized certifications.” Fang Senyan genuinely wanted to inform him that he only needed one guide, not those three water buffalo; carrying supplies was no strain for him.
But considering that doing so would be shocking and that he had no need to save money, the trio successfully secured employment.
Due to Fang Senyan’s insistence on speed, even a physical examination was skipped.
They boarded a bus toward their destination.
Miss Hashimi sat next to Fang Senyan, briefing him on various necessary precautions.
The two quickly became acquainted.
After a bumpy stretch, Hashimi could not help but tell Fang Senyan: “Though it’s impolite to say, Mr.
Fang, I must.
You are undertaking this endeavor at the wrong time of year.
The most suitable period for pilgrimage to the Lotus Stone is usually September or October.
It is now June.” Fang Senyan smiled: “That is precisely why I am paying you triple wages.” Miss Hashimi laughed in return: “To be honest, Mr.
Fang, if your destination were anywhere but the Lotus Stone—even fifty meters higher—no amount of money would convince us to take the job.
On a snow peak, an additional fifty meters can mean death.” “There are no ‘ifs.’ So, let us enjoy our cooperation,” Fang Senyan chuckled.
“Trust me, I am a generous man.
If I am happy, you will be even happier...
we can dispense with the small talk for the rest of the journey.” Given Fang Senyan’s formidable constitution, even without experience, his pace put him far ahead of the team.
The only real obstacle encountered was in the Gandak forest at the mountain's base, altitude 1,070 meters.
The team members were visibly terrified of potential leech attacks, yet Fang Senyan remained utterly unconcerned; any leech that dared bite him would be inviting death.
The others marveled at the insect repellent he applied.
Fortune favored them with clear skies, allowing them to spot the Hani Kurik Terrace after two days of climbing on the snow peak.
At that moment, the weather abruptly turned foul.
This was Fang Senyan's first firsthand experience with the brute force of nature; mountain weather truly changed on a dime.
The temperature plummeted by at least thirty degrees Celsius in under ten minutes! Fist-sized hail hammered down with savage intensity, and the wind instantly reached speeds exceeding ninety meters per second! At such astonishing velocity, a car could be blown away, let alone a person? Fortunately, Fang Senyan’s money hadn't been wasted.
The accompanying crew expertly pitched their camp in a wind shadow, driving the securing iron stakes deep into the rock with hammers.
Under these conditions, although Fang Senyan knew the Lotus Stone was less than a kilometer away and he was pressed for time, he had no choice but to wait out the storm.
In the middle of the night, Fang Senyan noticed the sound of the wind outside the tent had subsided slightly.
He wriggled out of his sleeping bag and cautiously extended a hand to gauge the wind speed, finding it had dropped to about thirty meters per second, the hail had stopped, and visibility had greatly improved.
Not wanting to wake anyone, he climbed out and began walking toward the Lotus Stone, placing his feet carefully.
For Fang Senyan, even a sudden resurgence of the gale would have been easily manageable.
Finally, the Lotus Stone, the location pinpointed by the mysterious voice, materialized before him.
The rock was indeed unique, matching the mysterious voice's description perfectly.
But the moment Fang Senyan saw it, a chill shot through him: the stone sat precariously close to a yawning abyss.
If he were to follow the voice’s instruction—stand on it, then jump— "Damn it all!" Fang Senyan couldn't help but curse.
The fog swirled in the adjacent chasm, infinitely deep, the bottom invisible.
The very edge was lined with jagged, frozen blades of ice, menacing and sharp! If he fell, forget 4,000 health points—even forty thousand or four hundred thousand wouldn't save him from death! At that moment, Fang Senyan heard sounds.
He turned and saw that the four people he had hired were catching up.
Fang Senyan waved them to stay put, signaling that he was fine, and resumed his examination.
After all, the paying customer was king; the crew could only wait obediently nearby, though they kept close enough for an emergency rescue.
Suddenly, Fang Senyan stared at the surface of the Lotus Stone and a thought struck him: could the mysterious voice's true intention be for him to step onto the stone? Would placing his weight upon it trigger some variable? Or perhaps the real key lay beneath the Lotus Stone? With this notion taking hold, Fang Senyan stepped onto the Lotus Stone.
However, he absolutely had no intention of jumping.
Nothing happened.
As he stood there, deep in thought, he suddenly felt an immense force slam into his back!! Fang Senyan was standing on the Lotus Stone, facing the drop, with a thin layer of slick ice covering the surface.
He was less than a meter from the abyss.
This impact, delivered without warning, struck his body.
No matter how powerful a Contractor he was, he was compelled to tumble forward into that terrifying, profound rift...
(As the description of Kathmandu involves copied network text, this chapter is 3400 characters long.) Can anyone guess who pushed Fang Senyan off? Haha.
(To be continued) RQ