Chapter 135 The Measure of a Brave Heart
We followed the just-revealed path of vines, the ground slick beneath our feet and smelling faintly of wet earth. Moonlight filtered through the hanging leaves like threads of silver cast across the path ahead.
After several yards, a noise sounded behind us. I turned just in time to see the vines seal shut again, tight as a clenched fist.
“So this thing resets on its own?”
“It does. Pick the wrong path, and everything ahead closes off.” Mu Cangli’s expression tightened. “And the higher we go, the more sentient the vines become.”
“Sentient?” I stared at him. “You mean… what, some kind of plant version of a lie detector?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he looked up at the sheer rock face above us where more vines dangled—some swaying faintly in the wind, some drooping like ropes waiting to be tested.
“That’s the way up,” he said. “But to climb, you have to find the one vine that will bear your weight.”
“Bear my weight? And if I grab the wrong one?”
“Then you fall.”
“Your routes are real motivational, you know that?”
He suddenly shot me a grin—surprisingly boyish, surprisingly familiar. “Afraid?”
“I’m used to it,” I muttered. “Ever since I learned the truth, peace and I parted ways.”
The system chimed in at once: [Spare me. If not for me, you’d have died ten times already.]
I shot it a glare. “Except when the plot wants me dead. Then I’m defending myself from you too.”
[Detected: emotional hostility toward system. Warning issued.]
I ignored it. I had bigger problems—like choosing the right vine.
The mountain wind carried a strange mix of blossoms and blood. The vines beneath us shifted softly as though waiting for our next move. Mu Cangli studied the hanging strands with a hunter’s eye, each vine swaying like it was breathing.
Finally he pointed to a thick, corded one. “This one looks solid.”
“You sure? It’s practically a tree.”
“The thicker, the safer.” He pushed off the ground, leaping upward with a sweep of his robes. The moment he landed, the vine dipped under his weight—but didn’t break.
My eyes lit. “It worked!”
A sharp crack cut me off. The vine snapped clean in the middle.
“Mu Cangli—!”
Thankfully, his reflexes were unnervingly good. He twisted midair and landed lightly beside me, not a fold of his robe out of place.
I wiped cold sweat off my forehead. “You trying to master light-body skills or die practicing?”
He frowned, running his fingers over the broken vine. “Strange. I observed them long enough. This one should have been the strongest.”
“Maybe it’s not about thickness,” I offered weakly. “Maybe… elasticity?”
“Elasticity?”
“Sure. The older the vine, the tougher the fibers.” I said it with great confidence and zero evidence.
Mu Cangli nodded and picked a darker, more knotted vine—something so old it looked fossilized. He brushed a hand along it and sprang upward.
Another crisp snap. Another neat landing.
We stared at each other.
I cleared my throat. “Seems the vines aren’t your biggest fans.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you try?”
“Me? I’m not trained for this.”
“Your blood trick earlier was more effective than my martial arts.”
“…That doesn’t count.”
I grumbled to the system, If you’re useful at all, pick a vine that won’t kill me.
[Recommendation: unknown triggers. Host advised to explore manually.]
“Why do I even keep you.”
The air grew awkward and cold. The vines rustled like they were laughing at us.
A thought struck me. “Mu Cangli… if I fall, will you catch me?”
He blinked, not expecting that. His shoulders lowered a fraction before he answered, steady and firm, “Of course.”
“You swear? No hesitation, no miscalculation—you’ll catch me?”
His eyes locked onto mine. “Of course.”
“Good—then I’m jumping!”
Before he could stop me, I pushed off the ground and launched myself into the tangle of vines.
“Hey—!” Mu Cangli barked.
Wind roared in my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut, convinced this was the end.
Then—“Ah! Caught one!”
My hand slipped—“Ah! It didn’t break!”
The wind shifted—“Ah—running out of strength—”
And the last was a falling scream.
Luckily, Mu Cangli did exactly what he promised, catching me cleanly, not a hair off.
I sagged in his arms. “See? Perfectly controlled panic.”
He ignored me, staring instead at the vine I’d grabbed—a vine that remained whole, gently swaying midair.
“Look,” he said, his voice low and edged with quiet excitement. “It held.”
I blinked. “You’re right! It didn’t snap! So it can hold my weight!”
Mu Cangli nodded slowly. “It seems the vine responds to the person… not their strength.”
“To the person?”
“The vine reads the heart, not the body.”
I was still processing this when he asked, “What were you thinking when you reached for it?”
“I wasn’t thinking! I figured you’d catch me anyway. So I just grabbed whatever was closest…”
A suspicious thought crept in. “Or maybe—you know—I’m lighter than you?”
His gaze skimmed from my face to my waist, then to his own slim wrists. His expression said, Are you sure?
I coughed. “All right, all right. Then what is it measuring?”
He gave a faint smile. “Try again and see.”
“Again?! You think I’m made of rubber?”
“If my guess is right, as long as you don’t fear it, the vine will bear you.”
“You mean this thing can tell if I’m scared?”
“Exactly.”
“…Were you scared just now?”
He answered smoothly, “I didn’t fall.”
“…”
Inspirational. Infuriatingly so.
But something in his tone pricked my pride. I sucked in a breath.
“Fine. I’ll do it again.”
This time, I didn’t overthink. I grabbed the same vine, pushed off the ground, and flew.
Wind howled. My mind emptied. For a heartbeat, I felt utterly clear—no system, no plot, no death.
Then the system decided to ruin it: [Detected: elevated courage. Courage value +25.]
“Shut up!”
[Detected: fearless action. Reward—]
“Stop—!” I shouted as I heaved upward. The vine held firm. Didn’t even tremble.
Mu Cangli leapt up after me and supported my waist. “Grab the next one!”
I reached. It held.
We moved upward—vine to vine, leap to leap—like the path revealed itself only to those who dared trust it.
“So the array tests the heart!” I gasped.
Mu Cangli replied between movements, “The fearless are carried. The fearful fall.”
“And someone who’s both scared and determined?”
“That depends on whether the vines take pity.”
I wanted to swear, but no time.
We climbed higher, the wind sharp around us, until we finally vaulted onto a jutting ledge. The moment our feet touched stone, every vine recoiled at once, withdrawing like a tide.
The fog lifted. Stars emerged.
I collapsed on the ground, staring up at the quiet night sky. “We made it.”
The system drawled: [Congratulations. Hidden achievement unlocked: ‘A Heart Without Fear.’]
“What’s the reward?”
[Reward: one extra life.]
“…Fine.”
Mu Cangli turned toward me, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “If the heart holds no fear, every path will open.”
I snorted. “Next time we see one of these arrays, you go first.”
“If you have no fear, why would I need to?”
I stared at him. Then laughed.
The valley wind swept past, cold turning warm as it brushed over us.
Maybe true courage isn’t the absence of fear—
but walking forward anyway.