Chapter 39 The Goddess Seen by Mortals (Part 2)

On April 8th, at 4 a.m., when Zhang Helai's team officially set out from The Fifth Camp, only 12 members remained.

They were three teams departing together, originally totaling 20 people, but eight of them had developed severe physical discomfort while resting at the Fourth Camp. Their condition wasn't as severe as vomiting blood or other serious symptoms, but rather, they lay on the ground languidly as if drunk, their consciousness blurred. Even with great effort to rise, they couldn't distinguish between their shoes and a thermos—indeed, one guy even tried to stuff his boot into his mouth, puzzled as to why there was no water.

With such conditions, they could only stay at the Fourth Camp, waiting for the Kamian people to escort them down the mountain.

Because they were above 8,000 meters on Mount Hyjal Summit, the oxygen there was only a third of that at sea level. Even if they wore oxygen masks while sleeping at night, they couldn't prevent the occasional health issues from arising.

Compared to them, Zhang Helai was lucky; he still managed to maintain a clear mind and persevere. But he was also unlucky as his physical strength had reached its limit, and he had to consume more oxygen to maintain his "Skill."

Even though they had already rested for six full hours at The Fifth Camp, which was as large as a soccer field, Zhang Helai still felt his body incredibly heavy when he woke up.

As they set off together, the others could see Zhang Helai's Oxygen Cylinder was depleting faster than theirs—a very dangerous sign. Someone patted Zhang Helai on the shoulder and pointed at the Oxygen Cylinder. He shook his head, so no one continued to persuade him.

They had to conserve their breath for speaking, which was also a moral duty: to advise people to cherish their lives.

Those daring to conquer Mount Hyjal Summit had to take responsibility for themselves, even though the process of summiting the mountain had been made quite safe. Along the way, they would pass numerous bodies buried in the snow and Ice Cascades—aside from a few bodies that were in positions too bizarre to be recovered, the rest were mountaineers who had perished on the journey within the last year or two for various reasons.

Hyjal Peak was undoubtedly a natural Ice Coffin. The decomposition rate of those who died there was extremely slow, and since the climbers were usually in full cold-weather gear, those who came after would not see decomposed flesh and white bones, only tombs of corpses standing as markers in the snow and ice.

That was Hyjal Peak, the harsh reality of mountaineering above 9,000 meters: every path had been paved step by step with the lives of countless climbers. Some pathways weren't even proper trails; they involved climbing almost vertical cliffs, relying on the veteran climbers to secure ropes, inching along slowly. Sometimes they encountered broken paths where the veterans had to set ropes and lay planks for others to cross the cliffs above 9,000 meters. One misstep could mean disappearing without a trace.

At first, they might have felt a complex array of emotions such as fear when they encountered these tombs, but eventually, they came to accept them, nodding slightly as a greeting when they passed by—after all, they could end up being a part of it themselves and were simply greeting their future neighbors early.

Conquer nature, become one with nature, or give up. No one else is accountable for your life should you dare venture here.

Every climber carries their own desires, whether to gain a brag-worthy experience, for fame and fortune, or driven by a dream. But in the most extreme altitudes above 9,000 meters, they are left with a single thought: conquer it and survive!

Around 8:50 a.m. on April 9th, they had followed the mountain path to an altitude marker of 9,810 meters. Within two more hours, they sought to reach Mount Hyjal Summit, take commemorative photos, and then head back down to The Fifth Camp before 1 p.m.

The latest time to descend from Hyjal Summit is 1 p.m. Any slower and the unpredictable weather could prevent climbers from returning to the campsite before nightfall, or even worse, they could perish en route. The 9,810-meter altitude marker Zhang Helai and his team saw was beside a body buried in the snow—no one knew if it was the weather that trapped and eventually froze the person to death there.

At that moment, Zhang Helai experienced severe nausea, paleness, and cold sweats, and slowly fell behind the group. His Oxygen Cylinder was nearly empty—he was showing acute symptoms of hypoxia.

Even if he could persevere and reach the summit, he would not be able to make the descent due to lack of oxygen. He had overestimated his Physical Strength, depleting his oxygen far too rapidly in the climb, and now he was at the end of his rope.

At this point, turning back was not an option, so he forced himself to move forward with heavy steps, his mind set on dying at high altitude if it came to that—his family's welfare was already well arranged before he chose to come to Mount Hyjal.

Here, no one would assist him—others might only provide the Kamian people with the coordinates of Zhang Helai's body after descending the mountain. The Kaiman people would then retrieve his corpse and notify his family to take it back for burial.

Lacking oxygen, Zhang Helai felt increasingly heavy, as if the gear on him had become chains extending from the mountain peak, attempting to keep him forever at this natural grave.

By then, his mind had few thoughts left—while ordinary people might experience their life flashing before their eyes, those suffering from hypoxia lose consciousness due to insufficient oxygen supply to the brain, not even this luxury of "remembrance" remains.

Just as he was about to lose consciousness and close his eyes, amidst the piercing cold wind, Zhang Helai heard a strange sound coming from below.

It was the noise of grinding rocks and gravel.

Had something fallen? Or did the wind uncover an Ice Cascade?

Zhang Helai forced his eyes open and through his blurred vision, he saw what appeared to be a figure below.

A figure... below?

Zhang Helai was indeed walking along the mountain path, his feet above a slope that was nearly 80 degrees steep!

In a daze, Zhang Helai thought he was hallucinating due to lack of oxygen, but the figure quickly approached him and yanked off his oxygen mask!

The air, as sharp as blades and swords, instantly covered his face, and with the loss of his oxygen cylinder, he almost passed out, but a second later, another oxygen mask was stuffed onto his face. Zhang Helai took a deep breath out of instinct, and the full blast of oxygen instantly alleviated his symptoms of hypoxia, pulling him back from the brink of unconsciousness.

"Who saved me?" Zhang Helai regained consciousness and his first thought was, "How could anyone give up their oxygen cylinder for me?"

Each person can carry at most one oxygen cylinder, or else the weight is too much to move. The oxygen Zhang Helai was now breathing was naturally someone else's. He opened his eyes and turned his head, only to see an unfamiliar face.

The wild wind and snow frosted her golden hair, her exposed fair skin was frozen red, her thin clothes acted as useless armor against the biting air, serving merely to cover her body. Her delicate face, though wan and gaunt, had eyes that shone like the sun and penetrated deep into Zhang Helai's heart.

She held an oxygen mask to Zhang Helai's face with her right hand, and in her left, she carried an oxygen cylinder, with a rope looped around her waist. Beyond that, she had no other gear.

A…golden-haired girl.

A…climber without an oxygen cylinder.

A…climber who climbs rocks directly instead of taking the path.

A…climber who, at an elevation of 9000 meters on the high mountain, climbs without wearing cold-weather clothes, her hands, feet, and face bare!

What did it mean to be without cold-weather clothes and without an oxygen cylinder?

According to the principle that temperature decreases by 6 degrees for every 1000 meters in altitude, with Tadamia's plain regions being around 20 degrees in the spring, the temperature above an altitude of 9000 meters would be at least minus 34 degrees. In fact, at the time of departure from The Fifth Camp at 9600 meters, the measured temperature was minus 40 degrees.

What does minus 40 degrees mean? Spitting out saliva would freeze before it hit the ground; a normal person without cold-weather clothes in minus 40 degrees, wouldn't last an hour before their body heat is lost, body temperature drops below 25 degrees, the thermoregulatory center ceases to function, breathing and heartbeat are suppressed, blood pressure plummets, reflexes vanish, unresponsive to external stimuli, leading to death from paralysis of the vasomotor center and respiratory center.

Simply put, this golden-haired girl should have turned into an ice statue; her limbs as fragile and stiff as ice sticks, it would be impossible for her to move!

What's more, she didn't even have an oxygen cylinder!?

Although among extreme climbing enthusiasts, some believe that human potential is endless, after all, many mountaineers can adapt to the high-altitude climate by training at 6000 meters. People from the plains have an oxygen partial pressure of 10 mmHg in their alveoli and arterial blood, whereas the Kamian people of the highlands have one of 1 mmHg; they need less oxygen in the mountains, allowing them to climb higher.

Therefore, some people believe that with long-term adaptation at high altitudes, one could reach the summit of Mount Hyjal, over ten thousand meters high, even when the oxygen content is less than one-third, without carrying an oxygen cylinder!

However, that is ultimately an illusion. Not to mention ten thousand meters, even the Third Camp at 8400 meters has not been climbed without an oxygen cylinder, and even the native Kamian people cannot do it!

Then there's this golden-haired girl who takes no common path, climbing nearly vertical cliffs between 70 and 90 degrees with her bare hands...

Amidst myriad complex thoughts that kept colliding, one sentence settled on Zhang Helai's lips: "Thank you."

He didn't believe his charm was so great that it made this golden-haired girl sacrifice herself to save him. So the reason was natural—the golden-haired girl saw he was dying and simply lent a hand.

The golden-haired girl smiled and helped him remove the oxygen cylinder from his back, replacing it with the one she carried.

Zhang Helai didn't stop her, nor did he have the grounds to—he worried that giving her his oxygen cylinder would cause her to die from lack of oxygen?

Bullshit, Zhang Helai could see with his own eyes that the golden-haired girl was in better shape than him!

"At that time, you must have realized that the person before you…" Black Body Armor asked, "must not have been ordinary."

"To describe her as Superman is not an exaggeration," Zhang Helai chuckled. "She's simply...the Goddess of Hyjal Peak, a presence that mere mortals can only look up to."