Not once did Sima Huai have a hankering to climb out of the valley in his first year at the bottom. He stared at the spot Ming Huayu was last visible for a long time when the latter ditched him then cradled his knees and sobbed. After he was done crying, Sima Huai grouched, “He’s left, huh? Bloody cried for nothing.”
Sima Huai performed visual recon. “Guess I’ll have to find my own way back. Is there anything to eat here?”
After Sima Huai did a lap of the valley, he gave up on climbing the iron rails the way Ming Huayu did for, by his estimations, he would be blown off around three steps up based on his current qinggong and internal strength levels. If he climbed with reckless abandon, he’d likely make it to the fifteenth step before plumetting to his death.
Inside the bag Ming Huayu gave him, Sima Huai found a book that, although he couldn’t read in the darkness, he luckily could make out owing to how hard the writer pressed down onto the paper. He couldn’t see how the book would come in handy subsequent to feeling out the word “Shadow Steps”, so he set it aside. Upon finding a large wooden bowl, a water pouch, an iron pot and a jar of salt, he concluded Ming Huayu was set on having him spend a long time in the valley.
Sima Huai neither gave up hope, wallowed in his predicament nor wasted time whining. There was no point betting on luck getting him home on the day; he decided to make the most of the day that the wind was kindest to research the valley as much as possible.
Although being careless was seemingly hereditary for Mount Daluo’s disciples– to varying degrees depending on individual – they always felt more comfortable in danger and, therefore, were more scrupulous. The most distinguishing characteristic of Sima Huai compared to his brothers, though was his organisation. When cornered, he would be able to figure out what conditions must be adhered to in order for him to survive. He would reverse engineer his primary goal to take the small steps that eventually led him to the big goal. In this scenario, his small goal was to climb out. His primary goal was to give his wretched shifu hell!
Without survival, there was no revenge. Hence, Sima Huai spent the next few hours searching for shelter. He made a cavern with a natural pool of water deep inside his home as it supplied him with drinking water, and there were fish swimming down there. Unless it was his last resort, nevertheless, jumping into the water was out of the question since it was unbearably cold.
The problem with the cavern was that it was pitch-dark outside and wasn’t a perfect barrier against the wind. If he was struggling to bear the winds on its most forgiving day, he was history when it feeling nasty.
Sima Huai filled up his water pouch and then made haste for the outside to capitalise on what little time remained of the day. Only when the gales started blowing more savagely did he chance upon a small cave that kept the winds out. Furthermore, there were skeletons of animals larger than him within, indicating it was safe for him to use as a home. That being said, if the animals residing there wilted to bones, then it could only mean there was no edible food or water. Venturing into the cold pool to fish wasn’t a long-term solution when there was a limited number of fish there.
Sima Huai, worn out from the long day, decided to stay in the cave where only the eerie wind was audible. He wiped his wet eyes and scolded, “You expected this… What are you crying for, wuss?” He then dragged his body through the windy valley once again, only giving up and returning to the small cave when the wind made it impossible to breathe properly. He took apart his bag to use as a blanket and spent a few hours resting.
The wind speed was significantly faster by the next morning, so Sima Huai needed to exercise precise qi manipulation to stay grounded with each step.
Over the next few days, Sima Huai refrained from eating as he couldn’t source any food, resorting to catching fish from the pool when he could no longer bear with the hunger pangs. Catching fish in the chilly pool would’ve been absolute hell if they weren’t poor runners due to the prolonged peace. Satiating his hunger signals led to a fever immobilising him, unfortunately. In his dreams, he felt a familiar, yet foreign, warm hand on his forehead. Strangely, he was alive and kicking upon waking up.
It took Sima Huai a month to find some herbs in the cliff face to eat; it took another six months to find something akin to ginseng.
As there was no sunlight in the valley, Sima Huai had to use his internal circadian rhythm as his clock, carving onto the stone walls to keep track of how many days went by.
Surviving on its own was straining. As such, Sima Huai had next to no energy to spend on thinking of an escape. The main virtue of the harsh winds was being forced to alter his breathing pattern, which was the opposite of his internal style up until that point. If you can’t breathe, you can’t do anything else. A year into his stay, he could breathe perfectly fine. When he thoughtlessly bound, he discovered he was capable of covering metres in one leap. At long last, he remembered he hadn’t read the manual he was provided.
Glossary
Bag – https://bit.ly/2RzeWX3 Back then, bags were essentially one piece of cloth folded up as you can see. When Sima Huai takes it apart, it means he’s taking everything out and unfolding it.
