Chapter 135: Hell on Earth

I glanced at the watch on my wrist, a gift from fatty. The time displayed was already 4:44. My heart skipped a beat; why did it have to be such an unlucky number? A sudden sense of foreboding welled up inside me.

Holding a fire starter, Zha Wenbin said softly to me, "If any emergency arises with me, turn around and get out quickly. It's not easy to run if both of us get trapped together."

"Run? Run my foot," I slapped the Type 56 semi-automatic rifle in my hands. "It's they who should run. The two of us form a combination of Yin and Yang—you play the dark side, I play the bright side. Together, we are the living embodiment of Taiji."

We walked forward for about fifteen meters, and the cave began to widen slightly, just enough for two people to walk side by side. Round logs were still laid down the middle, but the first burial chamber appeared, right on my left hand, and there was another one on Zha Wenbin's side. Neither of these chambers had doors; they were wide open, and the ground was strewn with black charcoal, feeling soft and spongy underfoot. I knew this was used in ancient times for moisture-proofing, as charcoal could absorb water.

Zha Wenbin's intention was to check the left one first, then the right. I aimed at the entrance of that chamber, grabbed a round log, and found that the wood had already cracked under pressure, its edges rough and jagged. A quick strike with the fire starter got it burning in no time. I immediately felt the surroundings become much brighter. With round logs lining the entire way, we wouldn't have to worry about torches at least. Bolstered by this, my courage grew a bit. Tucking the rifle in one hand and the torch in the other, I slipped sideways into the chamber.

This room was about the size of an ordinary family's kitchen. The ground was scattered with gravel-like debris. In the distance, a candlestick was visible, with the candle burned down halfway, alongside some bowls and jars, but nothing else. After examining it, Zha Wenbin analyzed, "This should be a side chamber. Notice how there's no door set up here, meaning one can enter from all directions. This structural design is known as an all-directional ring door. Those things on the ground should be grain; this is a granary."

We also stepped into the one on the right to take a look. It was similar to the left one, but filled with many bones. Upon inspection, they were all from animals—chickens, cows, sheep, pigs, and even a fish. This place served as a storehouse for meat. The ancients were quite meticulous, maintaining their living standards and configurations even after death. Finding nothing unusual, we decided to push forward.

According to Zha Wenbin's judgment, the appearance of side chambers would soon be followed by antechambers. These were typically living quarters for the tomb owner's servants and concubines during their lifetime, and the owners valued symmetry—one on the left and one on the right. Sure enough, after walking less than five meters, these two rooms appeared as expected. However, to our surprise, both rooms were completely empty, with no furnishings whatsoever.

Beyond this level should be the main burial chamber. Generally, the main chamber would be flanked by two accompanying burial rooms, which were prime targets for tomb raiders. Yet, we were certain no one had ever set foot in this tomb before. In truth, Zha Wenbin and I lacked experience. Anyone with real experience would never have rashly charged into a tomb of this scale, because questions like whether there was enough oxygen, whether there were hidden traps, and what kind of anti-theft measures existed were things neither of us had considered at all.

Some things are just like that: by the time you remember to think about them, it is already too late!

Perhaps the complete normalcy of the first four rooms had slightly relaxed both of our vigilance. I could even see the doors of the main burial chamber by the light of my torch—a pair of double doors carved entirely from white jade, studded with fist-sized door nails. At that moment, the distance was no more than ten steps away.

The doors were ajar, which was within our expectations, because those two creatures had definitely gone inside. They possessed physical bodies and couldn't have simply vanished into thin air like wisps of smoke. Zha Wenbin and I were like the Red Army on the Long March, thinking we were just about to cross the snow-capped mountains. Thus, our lack of experience became our fatal flaw.

The round logs on the ground stretched straight ahead like train tracks, leading to the end of an endless, gloomy world. The open door stood there, beckoning to us.

At that moment, it felt as though some gaudily dressed, flamboyant old procuress was waving a handkerchief by my ear, shouting, "Come on, come on, gentlemen, please step inside."

And so I moved, and Zha Wenbin moved too. Three steps, at most, was all it took before I felt the ground give way beneath my feet. Then came a booming sound, followed by the experience of freefall. The instant my backside hit the floor, I thought I would never stand up again. The pain erupted straight from my bones, and I heard the cracking of skeletal structures. I couldn't see a thing around me, and my torch had already gone out. All I knew was that I couldn't breathe, my lower body had temporarily lost sensation, and the pain was too intense for even a groan.

Zha Wenbin's condition was no better than mine. We were mere mortals of flesh and blood, though I was perhaps slightly stronger than him. Fortunately, I heard his heavy breathing; at least he was still alive.

A stench—an unspeakable, foul odor, somewhat akin to opening an expired can of sardines. A tickling sensation rose in my throat, and I began to retch. This continued for about five minutes, until I felt as though I would vomit out my very gallbladder, before he struck his fire starter.

Zha Wenbin handed me a small bottle. I held it under my nose and took a sniff, instantly feeling much clearer-headed and a bit more comfortable. It was a full five minutes after the fall before we had our first conversation. I said, "That fortune-teller at Fuzimiao is really accurate, huh?"

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"My bones are probably broken, they made a cracking sound. Didn't you hear it?" I replied.

"I heard it," he said. "It wasn't your bones making the cracking sound, so what are you scared of?"

"Not mine?" I hesitated. It seemed I could move already, so maybe I had just knocked the wind out of me earlier. But wait, I clearly heard it—"Could it be yours? How are you?"

I hurriedly struggled to try to stand up, but the moment I moved, another cracking sound echoed.

At that moment, Zha Wenbin brought the fire starter close to the side and said, "Take a look. There are human bones everywhere here. We landed right on top of them when we fell. Luckily, they've been dead for quite some years, and these bones are already pulverized, otherwise they would have pierced the two of us to death."

I followed the light of his fire starter and looked. Good grief, the pillow under that kid Zha Wenbin's head was actually a pair of human skulls! Their empty eye sockets and cracked jaws stared out, and their lower mandibles were nowhere to be found. Looking down further, I realized I was still suppressing a corpse beneath me; my backside had probably shattered its entire ribcage into dust. I let out a yell right then and there—a full-throated scream!

He slapped his hand over my mouth and said, "What are you hollering for?"

I finally calmed my racing heart and said, "Master, things are already like this, and you won't even let me scream?"

It was a scene I found hard to describe. All around you were white bones—some complete, some fragmented, piled on top of one another in every imaginable posture. The clothing on those skeletons had long since rotted away; some still had scraps of cloth clinging to them, while others were completely bare. Some skulls had rolled off to the side, others had missing rib cages, some lacked hands, and others had broken legs. In short, this place was a mass grave!

"My dear goodness, my dad wasn't making things up."

Zha Wenbin also wore a blank expression. Even though we had discovered many bones back in the savage wilderness of the Northeast, compared to this dense, suffocating mass, those were child's play. The moment you moved, the bones would shift; there was simply nowhere to put your feet down. Looking up, it was pitch black—there was no telling how high the drop was. I suddenly wondered if all these people had fallen from above just like us.

As if reading my thoughts, he told me, "They didn't. These people were buried alive as sacrifices. This is a sacrificial pit!"

"How many people had to be killed? I can't even imagine it. What kind of era was this to be so utterly devoid of law?"

Zha Wenbin said, "It was always like this in the past. Such massive construction projects relied entirely on human labor. Look over there by that person—there's a pickaxe. I reckon these were all the laborers who built this place. Once the project was finished, they were all driven in here to be buried with the dead. Such cases are not uncommon. And look at their postures; I sense these people were buried alive, locked in here to slowly await death. Look at that one leaning against the corner—they look like they're praying. And that kneeling one—that seems to be a child."

Indeed, I spotted a corpse curled in a fetal position, holding a smaller skeleton in its arms that was only about a fifth the size of an adult body—it must have been a child.

Tragic sights like this were everywhere. Once the pain began to subside, Zha Wenbin and I stood up to carefully inspect the place. It was about twenty meters long and ten meters wide. In this cramped space, a preliminary count revealed no fewer than three hundred white skeletons. Meanwhile, the bottom beneath our feet was completely invisible; judging by the setup, it seemed layer upon layer of people had piled up on top of one another, because many corpses had only half their hands exposed, likely having failed to climb out.

The white bones left on the upper layers must have been the survivors of that time. One can imagine them being driven here in droves: the lucky ones trampled on others' heads to climb upward, while the unlucky ones were crushed to death on the spot. Wails and cries for help filled the air as these people wriggled their bodies, crawling about like insects trapped inside a can.

A vivid image formed in my mind: the living desperately scrambling in all directions to find a way out, while the dead began to rot. The sealed, high-temperature environment once turned this place into a living hell, overflowing with foul water and reeking of decay. Maggots and bacteria began to devour the flesh of the dead, while the living suffered from a lack of water and food. Under such harsh conditions, they gradually gave up, broke down, and met their end one by one...