Correct?

Sutton also noticed Herbert’s abnormality.

He turned his head, his single eye resting quietly on Herbert. He did not speak to interrupt, but his gaze clearly held a bit more scrutiny and judgment. Obviously, he was also waiting for Herbert to provide a sufficiently reliable conclusion.

Matthew’s thoughts raced.

It seemed his Detection Spell had run into an obstacle... The structure of this tomb was indeed not that simple. How could a deceptive measure laid down by a Fifth-Grade Apprentice be seen through so easily? The map had already mentioned that the illusion maze itself possessed properties that interfered with spiritual perception; the more one tried to conduct a deep investigation, the easier it was to be led astray by the chaotic fluctuations it generated.

While Herbert’s technique was exquisite, if his level was insufficient or if he was simply not skilled at breaking this type of interference, it was very likely he would be misled during the judgment process, or even have his perception counter-disrupted.

Herbert’s face gradually turned pale. The calmness he had maintained until now finally showed an extremely subtle crack. It was the kind of distress that appeared only when facing a complex problem and exhausting all efforts yet still being unable to reach a clear answer.

His lips were pressed tight, and his jawline was exceptionally rigid. Silver light flickered erratically in his eyes; his Spirit was clearly still engaged in a silent confrontation with that ancient and obscure interference power within the passage ahead. But no matter how he squeezed his perception, the two paths before him seemed covered by a thin yet stubborn veil of mist, consistently failing to yield clear, definitive feedback.

After another dozen breaths, the invisible ripples around Herbert suddenly grew turbulent before completely dissipating.

He took a sharp breath, exhaled slowly, and his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. It was as if he had finally admitted that continuing would not yield a better result.

When he looked up at the fork again, those grey-blue eyes—always calm and restrained—showed a sense of helplessness for the first time, as if he were at his wit’s end.

It was not anger or retreat, but a kind of acceptance based on rational judgment—he had done his best, but the confusing barrier before him indeed exceeded the range his current methods could penetrate.

Herbert shook his head gently.

The movement was small, but it was enough for Sutton and Matthew, who had been observing him, to see it clearly.

As expected...

Matthew sighed inwardly.

Even Herbert was helpless. It seemed the protection level of this tomb was indeed much higher than he had previously anticipated. The detection secret technique Herbert had just displayed was likely his ace in the hole, and the fact that even such a method was ineffective proved that conventional investigation was basically useless here.

However, seeing this Third-Grade Apprentice—who always seemed to handle things with ease—show such an expression, Matthew felt a surge of alarm at the tomb’s danger, yet he also felt a strange sense of relief.

At the very least, this proved that the map information in his hands was even more valuable than he had imagined.

Just as Matthew’s thoughts were in disarray and he was privately guessing how Herbert would choose next, the silent Herbert suddenly spoke.

His voice was slightly lower than usual, carrying a faint, imperceptible trace of fatigue, but his tone was exceptionally certain. It was as if the complex detection just now had not truly shaken his judgment, but had merely allowed him to personally confirm a certain result.

“Let’s go right.”

Four short words, crisp and clean, without the slightest hesitation.

But this simple sentence caused Matthew’s heart to jump, and a flash of unavoidable surprise instantly crossed his eyes while his head was lowered.

He quickly suppressed his facial expression and looked up at Herbert. The trace of helplessness on the man’s face had not yet completely faded, but his finger pointing toward the right passage was already steadily raised, his posture clear and firm, without any sign of hesitation.

The right?

He actually pointed directly to the right?

Matthew’s heart was in turmoil. For a moment, he was even unsure what Herbert was basing his judgment on.

Was it pure coincidence?

Or was his detection just now not entirely fruitless, and he had ultimately captured an extremely weak but stable energy signature sufficient to distinguish the direction?

Or perhaps he was relying on some intuition that Matthew could not yet understand, or even deeper, more obscure clues, making this seemingly brief but not reckless decision after a period of weighing the options?

Upon hearing this, Sutton’s single eye lingered on Herbert’s face for two seconds, clearly measuring the reliability of the suggestion. But he did not press for details or question him; he simply nodded decisively.

“Fine, then the right it is.”

Perhaps in his view, when sophisticated detection methods failed, relying on the judgment of a powerful companion based on intuition or experience was also a reasonable choice.

After all, in a place like an ancient ruin, not every decision could rely on indisputable evidence. Many times, what truly decided life or death was that moment of judgment, trust, and the courage to keep moving forward.

Matthew suppressed the shock and suspicion in his heart and said nothing more, silently following the two of them as they turned into the right passage.

The passage continued to extend deep underground, the stone steps beneath their feet cold and hard. With every step forward, the energy fluctuations in the air became increasingly apparent. Unlike the chaotic, distorted sense of oppression in the left passage, the aura here, though equally chilly, carried a more heavy and stable sense of order, as if the entire passage itself were slowly operating according to some fixed law.

As Matthew moved forward, he quietly compared the route in reality with the map outline in his mind.

The curvature of the stone walls, the positions of the corners, the downward slope of the passage, and even some inconspicuous depressions and cracks were all gradually overlapping with the content in his memory.

With every step, the confirmation in his heart grew deeper.

Indeed...

The right side was the true path leading to the main burial chamber.

At this thought, Matthew’s gaze involuntarily fell on Herbert’s back ahead of him.

The man was still walking at the very front, his spine straight and his steps steady and composed. Yet for some reason, Matthew felt that something difficult to describe was hidden beneath that calm.

Especially back at the fork, when the man had first shown that helplessness of being “at his wit’s end” and then unhesitatingly pointed in the correct direction—no matter how one looked at it, there was a subtle sense of dissonance.

How exactly did he determine it?

Matthew’s eyes flickered slightly.

Could it be that Herbert actually harbored other means?

Some kind of knowledge, experience, or even... a more secretive trump card that he could rely on even when his detection secret technique failed?

As soon as this thought surfaced, the vigilance in Matthew’s heart deepened by another layer.

Traveling through the dark and deep right passage, time seemed to become slow and viscous.

The surroundings were terrifyingly quiet, with only the sound of their footsteps echoing continuously in the long, narrow passage. The air was thick with a stale, ancient smell, like dust and mold that had been sealed underground for decades or centuries, mixed with a faint, flickering energy disturbance that kept them from ever truly relaxing their guard.

Everyone remained on high alert.

Herbert’s spiritual perception remained constantly active, his invisible Spirit extending forward to probe for possible traps and abnormal fluctuations. Sutton, meanwhile, relied more on the experience accumulated from years of roaming ruins, his single eye constantly scanning the stone walls and the ground on both sides, looking for any traces of hidden mechanisms.

...

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