Nothing, nothing, still nothing. Exhausted, Buddha-Hand Lad grabs a rope and sits in the snow. Wasn't it sa…
Nothing, nothing, still nothing.
Exhausted, Buddha-Hand Lad grabs a rope and sits in the snow.
Wasn't it said that his uncle obtained something at Dasan Pass in his youth and placed it in a box? The key should be here.
But after carving many marks on the cliff with the measuring rope's tip, he finds nothing.
By the fire, Buddha-Hand Lad rarely blames his uncle:
A box locked with the world's finest lock, yet its heir doesn't know how to open it.
Warm firelight blurs his vision—a shadow appears. It snatches the rope from him, flings it beyond Dasan Pass, and with a crash, pulls down the high cliff.
Dasan Pass has fallen! Now everyone can pass through!
The shadow cheers wildly, but Buddha-Hand Lad notices a huge rock looming above its head. Without thinking, he lunges at the shadow—
And landed facedown in snow. He looks up; the storm has worsened, the rope gone.
Go back, go back.
Even without this treasure, I, Buddha-Hand Lad, can protect Liangzhou. I can take everyone through.
Uncle, you thought so too, didn't you?