Daomu Biji Volume 8 Chapter 37

It was a long stretch of mountain road so I'll make a long story short. Along the way, Ghost wasn't even on guard so Fatty didn't give up, no longer bothering to beat around the bush. Soon I knew that it wasn't because Ghost didn't have any defense against us, but that he simply thought we wouldn't get out alive.

Fatty asked several important questions at that time and the first one was about the lynx. Fatty first asked him, “Were these lynx raised to attack?”

Ghost replied “Yes” and explained that he used to be a spy and learned various ways to tame animals. There were so many lynx in the mountain because there were few hunters, and he raised all of them so now the number was very large. Lynx were very intelligent and could connect with humans. He used the method taught by the secret service at that time, and found a way to tame them through trial and error.

Lynx were very strong and fast, able to climb trees and swim very well. He used them to attack many people, including many of those who came here to hunt.

The second question was about Pan Ma. Fatty asked him about Pan Ma, but he just smiled and said he was probably dead. When we first entered the village, Pan Ma had already informed him, but he didn't know what happened afterwards.

I knew he was hiding something, but I dared not ask any more questions and was silent the rest of the way. After walking for a short period, we came to a place overgrown with weeds. We could see a lot of equipment and tent debris in the mud and it looked like a camp that had been abandoned for a long time.

This was the outpost where Ghost's team entered the ancient building.

We rested for a while inside, and then Ghost led us into a crude shack leaning against the edge of the rock.

The shack had completely rotted, but hadn't collapsed due to some vines that were wrapped around it. When we bent down to enter, we immediately saw several corpses wrapped completely inside the vines, with a layer of something similar to dried mud on them.

“These people all died when they were dragged out. Those who have been soaked to death by strong alkali won't rot, but will dry up." As he said this, he reached a hand in, groped around a few of the corpses, and broke off something from them.

I say broken, because it seemed to be a scale that had grown together with the corpse. After snapping it off, Ghost dumped it and shook off the dry mud from it before it showed its true colors—a cloth bag.

“This guy, like you, was a good grave robber, just didn't have the luck. This cloth bag was a treasure to him all his life and there are many tools in it. Maybe you can use it." With that, he reached into the mud in front of the body and dug a few times. A lid made of mud-covered bamboo strips was lifted and a hole was exposed. “This is it.”

I reached down and touched it, finding that without a doubt the wall of this hole was made of slate.

“This hole is the same as the one I walked at that time, but it's much smaller.”

“Some holes are for walking, some are for other things.” Ghost said, “After you go in, you will see a lot of miluotuo. I don't know the principle of this mechanism, but there is a trick—you have to find a very special shadow. This miluotuo is different from others, and in front of it, use this.”

He took out a canteen from his pocket: “There's oil in it. You pour the oil on the ground in front of this miluotuo and the direction the oil flows will tell you the next route.”

“How is it different?” I asked.

“I don't know, it's different every time. But I can assure you that once you see this miluotuo, you will immediately feel something's different. That kind of difference is especially strange." After that, Ghost patted me. “Please take care of yourself and don't come out alive.”

He left immediately, leaving us in the shack feeling puzzled.

“He didn't return the gun to me.” Fatty said gloomily, “I had a hard time stealing that, damn it. I'm already attached to it.”

“If he gives you the gun, what will you do?”

“Immediately break his leg and roast all his lynx.” Fatty said.

“He's right to not give it back, do you think he's stupid?” I said, “But he has a conscience. He took the weapon, but also gave us something.”

Fatty sighed as he opened the cloth bag that Ghost had given us and spread all the contents on the ground to see what was in it.

I thought it wasn't particularly polite to look at the bodies' belongings right next to them, and felt a little chilled. But when I saw some of them, I was also drawn in to take a look—I didn't recognize many of the things that were poured out. Fatty's face was half confused and half excited.

I asked him how he was doing, and he picked out one of those items that was an arm's length and threw it to me, revealing a long iron pick. I picked it up and looked at it carefully. The whole iron pick was covered with black paint and I didn't know how to handle it. There was no sign of paint peeling and under the flashlight, it presented a nonmetallic texture. But judging from its weight, it must be a metal device. The point was very sharp, and there were some patterns to increase friction in the middle section. If you looked closely, you could even see six ancient seal characters on one side.

It was a small tool used by ancient thieves to pry open some very delicate jewelry boxes—insert this iron pick into the lock seam, and then pry open the jewelry box with a strong force. These jewelry boxes were usually made of tin and were very difficult to destroy. At the same time, it could also be used to destroy brick walls that weren't particularly strong. It was forged by the same process used to cast swords. In the center of the iron pick was a copper core with a little bend, which was very hard. I had started with a few pieces before, but there were very few people who knew the goods and it was too difficult to sell them. Later, I played with them by myself.

These corpses were carrying such a thing on them and it seemed that it was a small tool they were used to. These people were bound to hold sway in their early years, but they died tragically and inexplicably. They had been lying here for dozens of years, which made me feel a little sad about the ending of these unsung heroes.

To die for the wishes of others reminded me of Pan Zi. I felt uncomfortable, and knew it had been a mistake to call him since I didn't know how they were now.

Guilt puts one in a very bad mood, but I actually understood that many emotions weren't generated for others. Did I really care about Pan Zi's safety? Maybe I just didn't want to feel guilty. If Pan Zi came with his own purpose (whether seeking money or realizing some of his ideas), would I be so worried?

I didn't think this would be the case. “Everyone was ready to meet their own end from the beginning,” was my mentality, and to a certain extent, my heart was already that of a true grave robber. I didn't know whether this was a good or a bad thing at this time.

The bodies had dried up and cracked, making it difficult to detect the cause of death. Ghost said before that the deaths of many people here were very strange, so it was impossible to speculate, but if the sight of dead bodies made me freeze, then there was no point in going in.

Fatty classified all the things that were turned out on the ground and I didn't know how to use many of them. There were several small items that were scattered and fragmentary, and there were some notebooks—I liked this one a lot. There were also some things like buttons made of animal's nails, which were hung on iron wires. Ghost figured these things were useful, and I dared not ignore him. I watched Fatty put them away and in case we die too, these things could also benefit later people.

There were also a few things among the broken and scattered items that I paid special attention to, which were some strange trinkets made by flattening coins. When I saw it before, I just thought it was for fun, but this time I saw several different ones. I found something wrapped in this aluminum foil trinket. I opened it and found it looked like a pill. I smelled it and found it was gunpowder.

This was a homemade flare. After the gunpowder was burnt, the aluminum foil would be ignited to produce a very bright light. Although the time was short, it could illuminate a large area.

These were good things, I told myself. I put it all away, carried my gun, and urged Fatty to go into the stone tunnel.

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Chapter end