Chapter 164

Main Text Chapter 166: Infection Spreads

A huge mass of black clouds covering the sky was pushed by the accumulated earth qi; the crack in the middle grew larger and larger, and tens of thousands of blood‑red rays streamed down through the fissure. The air in the ring‑shaped wall of the breach seemed to be rapidly circulating, with a whooshing wind, filling everywhere with an ominous aura, as if the apocalypse were about to descend.

The massive airflow surged back and forth within the funnel‑shaped terrain formed over millions of years; we were stuck in the middle of the cliff, neither up nor down, being swept by this strong wind, feeling our bodies as flimsy as paper constructions, liable to be sucked into the air at any moment. The sky changed too fast—in less than half a minute the wind grew so strong we couldn't open our mouths; the roaring of the turbulent airflow all around sounded like ten thousand cavalry charging forward, and we couldn't utter a single word.

I tightened the strap of my mountaineering helmet, carried the unable‑to‑walk Shirley Yang on my back, pointed to a crack in the nearby ancient wall for Pangzi, indicating we should temporarily hide there.

Pangzi gave a thumbs‑up, then patted his own helmet, shouldering his heavy pack and following behind me. On the four walls of this "funnel" there were everywhere thick vines splitting the rock, or narrow fissures carved out by the waterfall before it was diverted. Pangzi could barely squeeze in sideways; the interior wasn't deep, and once all three of us went in it was full.

I had Pangzi crawl to the innermost spot, then Shirley Yang, securing ourselves with climbing ropes to each other, while I stayed at the outermost edge—this only took a moment. The pool below the funnel rose another large section, and the airflow sucked up countless water droplets, pouring down like a heavy rain, drifting into our hiding crack. Each droplet that struck us caused a sharp pain, yet we dared not open the Gold Steel Umbrella to block it, or else I too would be sucked up by the airflow. So we squeezed inward as much as possible, pressing the Pangzi at the deepest point until he groaned in misery.

Our situation grew increasingly dire; the sound of the turbulent airflow outside transmitted along the cliff wall, and the resulting echo shook our eardrums to the point of bursting. The earth qi deep in the Insect Valley, suppressed for two thousand years, once released would not be inferior to the energy of a volcanic eruption. Combined with the special topography of the "funnel," it produced a tremendous reactive force on the jetting earth qi, lifting the deepest pool from its bottom and forming a gigantic water spout that sucked everything in the water up into midair—even the thousand‑year‑old vines on the cliff were pulled out root and all.

The narrow crack in the cliff wall turned out to be our salvation; once the outside airflow formed a "water spout," its energy would concentrate toward the center rather than diffuse outward. I was just about to lay the Diamond Umbrella horizontally across the crack's entrance to guard against any sudden change, when I saw the water mist at the mouth suddenly vanish, and the outside light was immediately blocked.

Just moments ago my mind had gone blank, but then I suddenly came to my senses. I quickly switched on the tactical searchlight on my head, and saw that outside the crack in the cliff wall was a large mass of sticky substance blocking it; within it seemed to be wrapped many black arms. This thing seemed both substantial and insubstantial, black and slick, as if it were trying to squeeze into the crack.

The corpse cave, attached to the ten‑thousand‑year‑old meat lingzhi's corpse shell, resembled a rotting, stinking big meat box, yet it wasn't swept away by the water spout but instead climbed up the cliff. I saw the corpse cave had already reached the level of Shirley Yang's family heirloom, the Diamond Umbrella she cherished greatly, and it was immediately dragged into the corpse cave. I sucked in a breath of cold air. This Diamond Umbrella, invulnerable to water and fire, was instantly devoured clean by the corpse cave, not even a scrap left; how could our mortal bodies compare to the Diamond Umbrella?

Trapped in desperation, we had truly reached the point of having no mountains or water left; the only recourse was to toss the Offering King's head out to lure him away, but I had packed the head into Pangzi's backpack, and retrieving it would take a dozen or so seconds of clearance, yet I feared that within three seconds I would first be gradually squeezed into the corpse cave and swallowed alive.

I steeled myself, raised the Chicago Typewriter, and dumped the remaining bullets from the magazine onto the corpse cave in a head‑to‑toe barrage; the gunfire echoed all around, but the black rotting flesh merely recoiled slightly, the bullets sinking into it like into mud, causing no damage whatsoever, and it continued to wriggle slowly into the crevice where we were hiding.

At that critical moment, the huge lump of rotting flesh was suddenly jerked out of the crevice by a tremendous force; it turned out the old meat lingzhi was simply too bulky—although it clung to the rock, a large part was still ensnared by the water spout and was finally lifted up into midair.

My heart pounded thump‑thump‑thump into a knot, as if the violent heartbeats of Shirley Yang behind me and Pangzi were also being fed into my ears. I turned my head to look at Shirley Yang and saw that she had been invaded by corpse poison; her lips had turned purple, her face was white as a sheet, devoid of any color, barely clinging to consciousness, liable to faint at any moment. Even if I immediately used glutinous rice to draw out the corpse poison, it was uncertain whether her leg could be saved. Thinking of this filled me with unbearable sorrow, but to comfort her I forced out a smile, pointed upward, and said to Shirley Yang and Pangzi: "The Offering King has finally ascended to heaven; we can consider that we didn't escort him in vain—at least we've taken his head and a few burial goods… Commander Wang, quickly take out all the glutinous rice."

Pangzi was wedged deep inside, able only to inhale and tighten his stomach—let alone look for glutinous rice, even speaking was an effort. I was about to step back to give him some space, but I saw Shirley Yang tightly biting her lip, straining to raise her hand and point backward.

At that moment the light in the crevice suddenly dimmed again; I hurriedly turned my head, but saw that the outside water spout had already ceased—apparently the earth qi had been fully released in that instant—and the mass of rotting flesh fell back down from midair, landing squarely where it had been, clinging tightly to the crack in the cliff and oozing strands of pus as it squeezed inward.

I cursed repeatedly, not knowing whether the Offering King in the flesh coffin, lacking his head, could not ascend to heaven, or whether it was his damned fate to only make it halfway up before falling straight down. At that moment I heard a tremendous boom, the sound of heavy metal striking the cliff wall, as if a huge greatsword had plummeted from the sky; the large mass of rotting flesh at the cave mouth was smashed square on, without any hesitation, and driven straight down to the bottom of the Deep Pool.

The tremendous impact nearly deafened my ears; having survived death for the second time, I was utterly bewildered as to what the space that had just fallen away was. Could it be that the wicked Offering King, having exhausted his evil deeds, provoked heavenly punishment and was struck by lightning?

Shirley Yang strained to tell me: "It's the wreckage of the B‑24 airborne fortress…"

I suddenly realized: it was the heavy bomber that had crashed at the bottom of the pool, also lifted into midair by the powerful water spout—whether it was time or fate, nobody could fathom the mystery here. The Offering King thought he held the heavenly mandate, unaware that in the dark everything is predestined; the path to immortality is beyond mortal aspiration, yet the people of his era probably still could not see through this law of nature.

I told Shirley Yang: "This time we can probably smash that flesh coffin to pieces; first we need to get the corpse poison off your leg, then we can climb up."

Shirley Yang said: "No… it's not over yet. You don't grasp how terrifying the corpse cave's energy is. Even the bomber's aluminum hull would be devoured by it, and its size will keep growing. Moreover, that head must contain some kind of energy that attracts it; before long—at most an hour—it will catch up to us."

Hearing those words, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of despair—had taking the Offering King's head truly bound us forever to the Insect Valley? After a brief ponder, I formed a plan: to eradicate this refined old meat lingzhi corpse shell, we must go to the spot at the valley entrance where "the Azure Dragon pauses its brush, relying on the wind to walk the horse"; however, that place is still far away, so we must first heal Shirley Yang's leg, otherwise, even carrying her, we wouldn't get far in a panic.

For us now, every second is precious; at the very least we must leave this large funnel reshaped by the water spout before the flesh coffin rolls back. I hurriedly helped Pangzi support Shirley Yang as we moved onto the outdoor plank road. At this moment the clouds in the sky had dispersed, the surrounding vines had mostly deformed, the thinner ones snapped, and everywhere carp floated belly‑up, flopping about. The top of the Soaring Cloud Heavenly Palace and all its golden‑splendid ornamentation had been swept away—despite being built extremely sturdy, only a bald stump remained embedded in its original spot, like a few ruined kiln caves. The white‑silk waterfall at the valley base poured down like the heavenly river spilling over, the magnificent dragon halo was gone; only the vapor from the pool bottom, struck by sunlight, produced a faint rainbow. Although we had endured the great upheaval of heaven and earth, it swept away the previous strange evil aura, leaving the place remarkably tranquil and harmonious.

I and Pangzi had no time to examine the changes around us; we hurriedly administered emergency treatment to Shirley Yang, digging out all the remaining glutinous rice. I divided this rice into three portions, first taking one portion, mixing it with clear water, and applying it as a poultice to Shirley Yang's lower leg, bandaging it to slowly draw out the corpse poison. According to the secret formula passed down since antiquity by the Gold‑feeling Captain, anyone critically infected by corpse poison must replace the glutinous rice every one and a half hours, doing this nine times in total, to survive.

But at present we only have enough for nine hours, and those nine hours absolutely cannot get us back to the Rainbow Cloud Inn where we're lodged; as the saying goes, even a clever woman cannot cook without rice. Pangzi and I were at a loss, so I sent Pangzi first to watch the pool bottom, then I gave Shirley Yang a few Red Wonderful Heart Pills that ward off corpse qi, unsure if they'd have any effect, merely hoping to temporarily halt the spread of the corpse poison.

I thought it over and divided the remaining glutinous rice into four shares, but being short on measure and worrying the potency wouldn't be enough made my forehead veins bulge with anxiety—yet anxiety helped nothing, so I did my best and left it to fate. Pangzi and I split all the edible leftovers we had, shoved them all into our mouths, but we were so hungry that even this amount couldn't fill a tooth gap; there was nothing else to do, so I endured the fire in my gut, hoisted Shirley Yang onto my back, called out to the on‑watch Pangzi to retreat, and meanwhile asked him about the movements of that flesh coffin in the pool.

Pangzi grabbed his backpack and said to me, "It's too high—looking straight up makes my eyes swim, I can't see a thing…" As he spoke he suddenly froze, then actually raised the Chicago Typewriter toward me, pulled back the bolt, and it looked like he was about to shoot me.

I hastily stepped back while carrying Shirley Yang, saying, "Commander Wang, the muzzle of the proletariat isn't meant to be pointed at one's own comrades." But as soon as I spoke I understood Pangzi's meaning: there must be something threatening behind me—could it be that the relentless corpse cave had already devoured the B‑24 wreckage in no time and was silently pursuing us? I quickly shouldered Shirley Yang, spun around on the narrow plank road, already having grabbed the engineer's shovel in hand; this turn of the head revealed something utterly unexpected—who was that person behind us? She…