Lin Qin had wandered through the Maze for seven days.
Over those seven days, he memorized every passage he had traveled, every fork, every dead end. He left marks on the walls he passed—simple marks, just a slash from his blade. Yet whenever he turned back to inspect them, those slashes had often vanished, replaced by new walls.
The Maze was changing.
He stood in the middle of an unfamiliar passage, looking at the smooth stone walls around him. He had never walked through this place before, yet there was a fresh blade mark on the wall—it was one he had left three days ago.
He had circled back.
Lin Qin looked at the blade mark in silence for a moment, then continued onward.
On the eighth day, he encountered someone.
It was an old man with white hair and beard, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the passage. His clothes were tattered beyond recognition, his hair a mess, and his face covered in grime. Hearing footsteps, he slowly opened his eyes and looked at Lin Qin.
Those eyes were muddy and lifeless, like a stagnant pool.
"New here?" the old man asked, his voice hoarse as sandpaper scraping together.
Lin Qin nodded.
The old man looked at him and suddenly smiled. The smile was strange, as though he was laughing and crying at once. After chuckling a few times, he lowered his head and muttered, "Another one... another one..."
Lin Qin said nothing and merely watched him.
The old man muttered to himself for a long while before suddenly raising his head, a flicker of light appearing in his eyes. "How long have you been here?"
"Eight days."
The old man froze for a moment, then burst into laughter. His laughter echoed through the passage, startling several rats that