Chapter 19

Main Text Chapter Nineteen: Kwantung Army Underground Fortress

Kwantung Army Underground Fortress 1

Pangzi asked me: "Do you have any military knowledge? There's no way there could be tanks here."

I said: "Let's go in and have a look first; even if there really were tanks, they probably couldn't be started. It's been nearly forty years—this long a time, even with daily maintenance they should have been scrapped by now."

The passages inside the hangar were winding and complex, like a maze. To avoid getting lost, we followed the wall forward, searching for an exit.

The passages and hangar of the underground fortress had arched ceilings, very high, a structure to prevent water seepage. Shining a flashlight upward, one could see rows of emergency lights and lines of pipes installed above. If we could find the generator, we should be able to get these lights working somehow.

Not far along, I saw a plan of the fortress on the wall, marking some main passages, communication trenches, warehouses, soldier caves, shower rooms, barracks, lounges, supply depots, drainage pipes, power stations, and other auxiliary facilities. As for gun emplacements, ventilation holes, countercharge holes, observation holes, combat command rooms, and concealed units—important positions like these were not marked. Inside the hill, the fortress was divided into three layers. Its complex structure and vast scale show how much the Kwantung Army valued this military base.

I took the map down from the wall. I had once been a combat engineer and even participated in building military facilities on Kunlun Mountain. Now with the map in hand, I wasn't worried about not finding the exit. The scale of this secret underground fortress exceeded my imagination—its depth reached thirty kilometers, and the frontal defense width was over sixty kilometers. It turned out the hills on both sides of Wild Man Gully had been completely hollowed out, forming two mutually supporting permanent defensive works. Three passages ran horizontally through Wild Man Gully, connecting the fortresses beneath the hills on both sides into one entity. The underground passage we broke into from the tomb of the Jin Kingdom general was precisely the lowest of these three passages. The fortress was thick at the ends and thin in the middle; although both ends were large, only three passages connected the middle. This might also be a tactical consideration: if one end's fortress fell to the enemy, we could still cut off the passages and hold fast at the other end.

From our position, the nearest exit wasn't actually far away. I just didn't know whether the Kwantung Army, when retreating, had deliberately destroyed the fortress's exits. Otherwise, we'd still have to return via the tomb side, or we could try climbing out through ventilation shafts or similar openings. Suddenly I recalled what happened last night on the hillside—our horses had their bellies ripped open by some monster in an underground cave. Could that cave be a fortress ventilation shaft? Had that faceless monster enlarged the hole with its claws to make a den? If that cave really were a ventilation shaft, then there'd be no hope of crawling out—it's too narrow.

I shared my thoughts with Yingzi and Pangzi, asking them to discuss our next steps for getting out.

Pangzi said: "Hey, Lao Hu, if you hadn't reminded me, I'd really have forgotten. The monster that attacked our horses might have taken this underground fortress as its old den. We're wandering around in here aimlessly—we might run into it. We'd better first think of a way to find a few weapons for self-defense."

I said: "Exactly. Better safe than sorry. If the exit is destroyed, we'll still have to crawl out from the tomb's robber tunnel, meaning another head-on confrontation with the corpse demons. The hangar should have a section for weapons and equipment. Let's go see if there's anything handy. Each of us should take a few items. Best if we can find some Japanese Type 91 hand grenades—they have a long shelf life and decent power, perfect for dealing with corpse demons."

The hangar was piled with various standard-issue military greatcoats, blankets, dry batteries, lunch boxes, gas masks, and so on. Because of the fortress's unique structure, the air here was relatively dry, so some supplies were still in fairly good condition. I casually slipped a few Japanese Springfield-type gas masks into my pack. Finally, on the right side of the hangar, I found where weapons were stored.

On a row of iron racks stood many wooden crates containing firearms—no machine guns, all of them Type 38 rifles, which we commonly call the "Type 38" or "Three-Eight Cover." Along the wall were a few Type 60 cannons, but not a single shell nearby.

Pangzi pried open a crate of rifles, grabbed one, and with a clatter pulled back the bolt. He shone his flashlight into the bolt and told me: "Lao Hu, this rifle still works—it's a brand-new, unopened rifle, all mechanical parts oiled, never fired."

Yingzi and I each took a rifle. I lifted the Type 38 rifle to aim, then put it back: "The Japanese's junk rifle only holds five rounds, non-automatic, turn-bolt action—loading is too slow, and the recoil is unusually strong. I'm not used to it."

Yingzi asked me: "What's wrong with this Japanese rifle? It's got plenty of power. When my uncle first joined the Northeast Democratic Allied Army, he used this kind of rifle. Hu bro, why don't you like using it?"

Before I could answer, Pangzi interjected: "Don't bother with him—he plays with semi-automatic weapons every day in the army, so he's developed habits and finds fault with everything. Of course he looks down on this outdated rifle. Later, if we run into any corpse demons again, the two of us will stand behind him and watch his bare-handed wolf-snatching act." As he spoke, he reached down to the lowest level and pulled out an ammunition box. Opening it, he saw bullets wrapped in oilcloth, gleaming yellow-gold in the flashlight's beam. Pangzi's father had doted on him since childhood, giving him guns to play with as soon as he could walk. By middle school he was already an expert with firearms. The principles of rifles are largely the same. Although Pangzi had never used a Type 38 before, he felt no unfamiliarity. Seeing the ammunition, he picked up a bullet, skillfully pressed it into the rifle, smoothly closed the bolt, raised it, and aimed at me.

I quickly pushed his rifle barrel aside: "With a round chambered, don't you dare go pointing it around—gun barrels aren't for aiming at your own comrades. Only traitors point their guns at their own people. I don't like this rifle because the Type 38 is basically unsuitable for close combat—the bullet's penetration is too strong. Within thirty meters, one shot can pierce three or four people. Unless you fix a bayonet for close-quarters fighting, it's easy to hit your own people. Besides, there are many steel installations inside the underground fortress. Once a bullet hits a steel or iron plate, it will produce irregular ricochets. Bad luck—you might not hit the enemy, but instead take out your own people first."

Pangzi patted his chest confidently and said: "With my marksmanship, it's not just bragging—after all these years, you should know I can hit a willow leaf at a hundred paces, shoot lamps off a horseback as if playing. How could I possibly miss and hit a steel plate? Don't believe me? Let's try putting an egg on your head later..."

I cut him off—he was getting more and more ridiculous. Is it easy for me to grow a brain? This head of mine is for thinking about life, not for you to use as an egg target. Can we stop messing around? Let's see what other weapons we can use. I always feel this rifle isn't the right tool—after all, it's been obsolete for years. Rifles that old are prone to accidental discharge. Back when I was on the Vietnam front, a laborer helping us transport frontline supplies stole an old German-made rifle we'd captured from Vietnamese militia. While climbing a mountain, it went off accidentally, blowing open the head of our regiment's deputy commander. This is no joke.

We pried open the crates on the rack one by one, hoping to find a few Type 91 hand grenades. Instead, in a wooden crate painted with a plaster-flag emblem, we turned up over a dozen submachine guns. The guns had a strange shape—somewhat like the British Sten submachine gun, with the magazine inserted horizontally on the left side of the gun body. Unlike the British Sten, these guns had a curved magazine and an added wooden stock at the rear.

Yingzi asked me: "Hu bro, what kind of gun is this? Why's it shaped like that? Is it a crooked stock?"

I pulled back the bolt on the submachine gun, then removed the magazine to look at it: "This might be the Japanese Type 92 submachine gun, issued to troops late in the war, with low production, so not commonly seen. Possibly issued to counter the Soviets. This gun is much easier to use than the Type 38, especially suited for close combat. Even if it malfunctions, at worst it just jams—it won't slam-fire or fire out of battery. You and Pangzi shouldn't use rifles—take a submachine gun for self-defense."

Yingzi had never used a submachine gun and didn't know how to handle it. She stood nearby shining two flashlights to light us up. Pangzi found a box of submachine gun ammunition, and he and I began loading rounds into the magazine.

I hummed a little tune as I pressed each bullet into the magazine. My mood was great—this time I really struck it rich. Since leaving the army, I'd never touched a submachine gun again. Recalling the feel of using the Type 56 in the army, my palms were itching. Just as I was feeling pleased, Yingzi suddenly tapped my shoulder and whispered: "Hu bro, I think... I saw a child run past behind you."

A child? How could that be? In these deep mountains and old forests, human traces are rare enough—let alone this secret fortress hidden so deep. How could a child suddenly appear out of nowhere on flat ground?

We were all squatting on the ground loading bullets. Yingzi held a flashlight and squatted opposite me. She unintentionally swept the flashlight's beam and saw a child's shadow flash past behind me.

I turned my head and shone the flashlight around—behind me was a T-shaped passage, pitch black and unusually quiet. Not a trace of a child's shadow. I asked Yingzi: "Where's any child? Did you get dizzy or something?"

Although Yingzi is bold, after all she's a mountain girl with strong feudal superstitions. Right now her face had changed color from fright: "I really didn't see wrong—there really was a child running past from the passage behind you. I couldn't have mistaken it—no footsteps, just saw a child's shadow, went by so fast, whoosh—just flashed past... Could it be a ghost?"

Kwantung Army Underground Fortress 2

I questioned Yingzi for details, but she couldn't say clearly—only said she'd vaguely seen a child's shadow flash by, like a little girl, though she couldn't be sure. She hadn't noticed what the child was wearing. About five or six, maybe six or seven years old. The direction the child ran toward happened to be the direction marked as an exit on the map.

The passage was less than two meters from me. In this quiet place, a child running past—I couldn't possibly not hear it. So silent and soundless—unless it was a ghost. The underground fortress is a world cut off from the outside; no one has come in for decades. Who knows what's hidden in here? Today's events have already worn us out enough. Better not to stir up trouble if we can avoid it—we can't afford to provoke it, nor can we hide from it.

I then suggested we take a longer route around to the fortress's exit from the other side, avoiding the passage where the child ran past.

Yingzi, who fears ghosts and gods the most, nodded in agreement: "Better to climb ten li of slope than bump into a ghost-built wall."

Pangzi said dismissively: "Lao Hu, I've noticed you've changed. Since you were discharged from the army, you're not as fearless as you used to be. Being timid and hesitant doesn't match your usual style. How come today, when Yingzi saw a child run past, you want to take a detour? Let me tell you—if you're going to detour, you two can do it, but I'm not moving. I'll take the shortcut. Think back—when we were Red Guards, going up to the mountains and down to the countryside, what were you afraid of? Those years, besides Chairman Mao, who did you say we obeyed?"

I was momentarily speechless—indeed, Pangzi's words seemed true. Formerly I was the sort who'd have the sky fall and just use it as a blanket. Since joining the army, all the way through China's self-defense counterattack against Vietnam, I've seen comrade after comrade sacrificed. I've truly witnessed countless scenes of bloodshed and death. To speak factually, I really have become somewhat fussy and overcautious—everything I do involves looking ahead and behind. Has the passage of time really taken away my courage and boldness?

I said to Pangzi: "How old are we now? We're not like before. Those years we were Red Guards, we were indeed brave and eager to fight—seeing someone displeasing, we'd beat them up. But that was a ridiculous era. Looking back now, it all seems laughable and sad."

Pangzi said: "But at least back then, you fought, you charged. I really can't stand seeing you now like this—jumpy and nervous. Do you remember the notebook I gave you on your sixteenth birthday? Do you recall the long poem written on it?"

That notebook might have already been used by me to wipe my ass, and besides, Pangzi gave me many notebooks back then—his mother was a cadre in the logistics agency, so we had all kinds of notebooks at home. I really can't remember any long poem.

Pangzi saw I couldn't recall, so he said: "Let me recite a few lines for you to hear." Pangzi's Mandarin is very standard, he's big-bellied and full of breath, and when he recites, he really sounds like a broadcaster from Central People's Broadcasting Station. Only hear him loudly say:

In the park we together "played guerrilla", in the classroom we together read our books. On Xianyang Road we together "smashed the Four Olds", on Jinggang Mountain we together went on great mass rallies.

On the eve of burying the revisionists, before marching against that world! Beside the radio, we carefully listened to, the Ministry of National Defense's proclamation of war, word by word...

After Pangzi finished reciting the first line with passion and vigor, I immediately recalled—this is a narrative long poem titled 《Towards the Warriors of the Third World War》, which was widely circulated among the Red Guards back then. We were extremely familiar with this poem. During our time as Red Guards, we had recited it together hundreds, even thousands of times. It was our favorite rhythm, our dearest words, our most youthful and magnificent dream... My emotions surged, I forgot where I was, couldn't help clenching my fists, and joined him in reciting aloud in unison:

... on that unforgettable night, the longing for battle, spreading through every blood vessel.

The fervor of our forefathers inspired us, stirring our heartstrings—we are the descendants of soldiers, we want to gallop across the fields of war and smoke.

In this Third World War to destroy the last exploitative system, we two are placed in the same platoon.

Our friendship began there, already beyond calculation—we only know it, higher than mountains, longer than roads.

In the trenches, we shared a loaf of bread, we shared a lick of salt.

Humming the same tune, sharing the same military blanket.

Word by word, line by line, the leader's thought, the great truth—we have studied it again and again.

Under the red flag, with sincere devotion to the Party, the longing to sacrifice ourselves.

We gripped our guns, raised our fists, and swore our steel oath: we are willing, willing to give our all, for the realization of communism.

In the midst of soaring artillery fire, we stood shoulder to shoulder, storming the enemy's three-hundred-meter defense line,

Submachine guns spraying at the exploiters, pouring out the proletariat's revenge bullets.

Do you remember? We once drank water from the Danube River, stepped onto the Ukrainian plains, crossed the Ukrainian highlands, and relit the red star on the Kremlin once more.

We once followed the commune's footsteps, walked through the streets and alleys of Paris, stepping to the tremolo of the 《Internationale》, charging through every town, village, and harbor of Europa.

We once made use of the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem, to block the poisonous bullets of Christians, and planted the red flag on the banks of the Suez Canal.

The lake light of Switzerland, the lamps of Pisa, the evening glow of Yemen, the Buddhist temple of Jinben, the cherry blossoms of Mount Fuji, the cooking smoke of Havana, the red wine of Spain, the clear springs of Black Africa...

All of this, never once made us linger.

Because we all had rifles in our hands and heavy responsibilities on our shoulders.

How many sleepless days and nights, how many blood-soaked southern campaigns and northern battles.

Thus, our invincible team closely followed the red sun, advancing without hesitation.

Listen: the cries of the brothers of the Five Continents, like rolling floods and furious waves surging to the heavens.

Look: the righteous banners of the slaves of the Four Seas, like sparks that are starting a prairie fire.

Ah, the world is all red! Only the White House remains a little white!

Three red signal flares rose into the night sky, you patted my shoulder: "Hey, comrade, do you still remember? On the Sino-American battlefield, seeing the red hearts of the dolls, a statement by a Politburo member. The prospect of world friends joyfully celebrating liberation, the eyes of the old Soviet Red Army placing hope."

"Remember! This is the final struggle, the battle for humanity's fate is today!"

The bugle sounded, our red hearts connected, the swift wind moved forward.

One hand held green leaves, the other held poisoned arrows, this bronze eagle emblem that had dominated for two full centuries,

Amid the people's victorious cheers, it was thrown into the roaring flames……

Yingzi saw us two talking endlessly, also couldn't understand what we were saying, grew impatient waiting, interrupted our words saying: "What are you talking about? Still getting all worked up, why won't it end when you start speaking? Now it's not early, no matter which road we take, we should set out, you two willing to say wait until we go out to continue?"

Pangzi picked up the Type 98 submachine gun, inserted four or five magazines into his waist, expression resolute, waved his hand and pointed forward: "Comrades, victory lies ahead, follow me."

Thus, Pangzi led the way ahead, Yingzi in the middle, I brought up the rear, the three of us formed a single-file column, walking toward the passage Yingzi said she saw children run past, this is a slightly upward-sloping path, after walking over a hundred meters it turned into an upward staircase, looks like we've already entered the interior of the Wild Man Gully hills.

The passage grew narrower and the humidity increased significantly compared to below, breathing became difficult in there, a feeling as if being buried alive pressed down.

The three of us were close together, I don't know why Pangzi walking ahead suddenly stopped, he suddenly halted, Yingzi behind him unprepared, just bumped into his back, Yingzi was knocked by him from the steps backward, I hurriedly from behind supported Yingzi, I asked Pangzi: "What's going on? Why did you suddenly stop and not continue walking?"

Pangzi turned and shouted: "Run back quickly!" He seemed to have seen something terrifying ahead, his voice changed, the previous heroic spirit had vanished like smoke.

Kwantung Army Secret Fortress 3

Pangzi shouted for us to turn and flee for our lives, I was separated by the two people ahead, the flashlight's illumination range limited, I only saw that on the four or five steps ahead there was a large space, also didn't know exactly what he saw, but since Pangzi said so, there must be his reason, I prepared to retreat backward.

At the same time, I suddenly felt several dozen cold steel needles pierce my back, icy cold penetrated to the bone, my whole body felt as if struck by a freezing electric current, body trembled, lost control, leapt forward with a burst, don't know where this great strength came from, pushed Pangzi and Yingzi ahead together forward to fall, this narrow dark passage gently sloped upward, all three of us rolled and crawled, colliding into the hollow at the end of the staircase.

I was inexplicably shocked, the electric current seemed also conducted to the other two, we all froze with teeth chattering, no one knew what happened, wanted to speak but couldn't make a sound, if said it was accidentally touching a leaking wire, it should be full-body numbness, how could there be this feeling of cold from the marrow outward?

Fortunately, the three loaded submachine guns didn't fire accidentally in the chaos, we lay on the ground, the flashlights in our hands still on, using the light of three flashlights I saw, I now understood why Pangzi turned to run, originally this was a half-natural half-man-made huge stone chamber, everywhere green moss, damp stone walls and ceiling, countless huge bats hung upside down, this bat's size far exceeds ordinary bats commonly seen, embracing wings densely packed hanging on the wall, they were startled by us three intruders, all woke from sleep, bared mouths full of white fangs, seeing makes scalp tingle.

The bat's face looks very strange, two diamond-shaped large ears straight up, round head round brain, nose also round, forelimbs very developed, upper arm, forearm, wrist bones, finger bones all especially long, sharp teeth and claws, when I was an engineering soldier on Kunlun Mountain I once saw such large bats, their scientific name is Hipposideros armiger, also called pig-faced large bat, their nature is most blood-loving, also eats meat, is the rarest most vicious species among bats, they like living in underground caves of pastoral grasslands, at night emerge to prey on cattle and sheep livestock, especially on the Mongolian grasslands, once became a disaster, in recent over ten years this animal has become rare.

I thought they were extinct, unexpectedly so many pig-faced large bats made the abandoned Kwantung Army underground fortress their lair, they hide by day and fly at night, using the fortress's ventilation holes as exits, indeed there is no safer, more comfortable nest than here.

Several pig-faced large bats had already flown down from the stone walls first, I struggled to climb up, but as I braced my hand on the ground I twisted my ankle, the ground covered in bat dung and animal remains, foul smell assailed the nostrils, sticky and slippery, bat dung is also called "night-bright sand", originally a precious traditional medicine, ordinary people getting one or two taels is already quite difficult, now seeing it I can't help but feel disgust.

I gave up the thought of climbing up from the ground, fingers pulled the trigger, used the Type 98 submachine gun to sweep at the flying pig-faced large bats, I fired, the other two also reacted, three submachine guns crossed fire, gun muzzles spat fire, bullets' tracer light, illuminated the whole stone cave flickering bright and dark, gunshot and bolt sounds, shell casings hitting ground, mixed together.

Over a thousand pig-faced large bats were startled, this creature living in darkness most fears fire and light, besides those hit by bullets falling to ground, the rest like black clouds, some flew over our heads, also some escaped upward along the ventilation holes.

The submachine gun bullets ran out very quickly, no time to change magazines, pig-faced large bats swooshed past our bodies, our clothes were torn by their claws and fangs into strips, fortunately clothes were relatively thick, although a few hits injured flesh, wounds were not deep.

At this moment the fear in my heart was even more deadly, I feared injuring my eyes, didn't dare open eyes, used one hand to shield head and face, the other hand swung the submachine gun, using it like a stick to wildly strike in the air, two legs desperately kicked, driving away the pig-faced large bats lunging at myself.

Don't know how long passed, the cave gradually quieted down, likely those pig-faced large bats had all run off, I felt for the fallen flashlight on the ground, just about to speak to ask Pangzi if they were injured.

Suddenly before my eyes went black, a largest pig-faced large bat silently swooped toward my head top, it might be the leader of all bats in this cave, hidden in the deepest part of the stone cave, at this moment after hiding until now, wings spread, walls filled.

I only had an empty gun and flashlight in hand, hard to resist, it was close within arm's reach, on its pig-like face, layered wrinkles, stiff hair, fangs clearly visible, looked like it was about to bite me, from beside came a string of submachine gun fire, a string of bullets all embedded in the pig-faced large bat's body, the bat fell to ground flopping a few times, then died immediately.

But actually it was Pangzi beside me seeing the emergency, changed magazine and fired, saving my life, I exhaled a breath, looked around, besides a few bats hit but not dead still struggling on ground, no other bats hidden remained.

My body had several tears from claws, blood gushed out, Yingzi and Pangzi also suffered some minor injuries, but none serious, Yingzi tore several strips of cloth from her clothes to bandage me.

The wounds on my body hurt terribly, I kept cursing, back then I was on the front lines, that battle, gunfire and bullet rain didn't even graze my skin, today I let these beasts tear so many holes in me……really hurts.

Pangzi asked me: "Lao Hu, I damn just told you guys to run back, why did you instead push us in?"

I recounted what just happened, only said my back possibly touched exposed wires, got shocked, didn't dare tell them the truth, because even I found it unbelievable. I had Yingzi check my back, if it was electrically burned, Yingzi pulled open my back clothes, used flashlight to shine: "Oh my god, Hu Bro, what did you do? Doesn't look like electricity."

Pangzi also came to look at my back: "Were you electrocuted? Your back has a black handprint, huh……this palm is very small, like a child's."

Really damn seeing ghosts, turns out we three were pushed into this bat cave by that little ghost? Don't let me see it, see it, I'll skin it.

Pangzi was about to speak to me, but his flashlight fell to the ground: "My mother, Lao Hu, Yingzi, in the hangar you said I didn't believe, just now……I also saw a child run past."

I and Yingzi hurriedly picked up flashlights to shine around, besides bat dung and bat corpses, where was any child.

Pangzi swore to heaven: "Damn it, it ran past from behind you, deceiving you I'm a grandson, just……just ran inward, I saw it extremely clearly, little boy, a small child, wearing all green, five or six years old, face especially white……not like a living person."

Besides me, they both saw a child in this underground fortress, why did I alone not see? But that child's handprint on my back afterward, can't help but make one's skin crawl, Pangzi said he saw a boy, Yingzi said she saw a girl in the hangar, who exactly saw wrong? Or did this underground fortress open a kindergarten?

We tidied up a bit, stood up, loaded new magazines into the submachine guns, Pangzi pointed at one wall of the stone chamber: "That little brat, ran this way." After speaking he used the gun stock to scrape moss and bat dung off the wall, revealing half an iron door, rust stains everywhere, written in striking red paint four large characters "No Entry"

Kwantung Army Secret Fortress 4

"No~Entry~" Pangzi pointed at the characters on the iron door and read them once then said to us: "Do you know what this means? This means no standing entry, if you want to enter you must lie down, this place is definitely a morgue, otherwise it would be a crematory."

Yingzi listened to Pangzi's explanation and said: "What? Lying in? So it's for holding corpses, heard old folks in the village say what the little Japanese did with crematories, this iron door eighty percent is a crematory."

I used my finger joints to knock twice on the iron door, felt the door very heavy: "Pangzi you pretend to understand when you don't, the meaning of these four characters is roughly no entry, although I don't understand Japanese, but I'm very familiar with military facilities, you look there's a large recess below the door, inside has internal hexagonal file patterns, this should be a turntable, to open this iron door needs turning the turntable, the hole below the door is an exhaust groove, this is an airtight door, when closing the iron door, the exhaust hole automatically extracts indoor air, inside forms a semi-vacuum environment, is a place for storing valuable items, our military bases also have similar facilities."

The airtight door's turntable had long been dismantled, without corresponding tools, wanting to open this iron door is truly as difficult as climbing to heaven, as for what is stored in the inner chamber, that's hard to say, possibly chemical weapons, biological weapons, etc., this possibility is highest, to prevent chemical weapon leaks causing accidents, usually stored in such sealed chambers.

Japanese chemical and biological weapons, although always infamous, their power cannot be underestimated, even if placed in natural environment, after many years still can kill people, I'm not interested in what's behind this door, still look at the map, quickly find the exit is the proper thing.

Pangzi was full of curiosity about this door, especially after hearing me say it might store valuables, even more itchy, he and Yingzi together knocked on the door a while, kicked a while, very much having the posture of not being at peace without going in to look. Their mouths also muttered: "What good stuff is in here? Ah, can't see it so annoying."

I no longer paid attention to them two, independently checked the map's exit location, in this stone cave once occupied by pig-faced large bats, seeking the exit, according to the terrain drawn on the map, there should be a small passage connecting to the mountain top exit within this stone cave.

But searched and searched, only found at one end of the stone cave a large area of collapsed rocks, as previously expected, when the Japanese retreated they blew up the fortress exits.

Current position, head above roughly exactly where we pitched tents on the Wild Man Gully slope, using flashlight can illuminate several large holes on the cave's top wall, these large ventilation holes, not straight up and down, to prevent external attack on interior, ventilation holes are made winding and twisting, bats fly out from these holes to outside, unfortunately we have no wings, down here staring blankly can't go up, even if up it's useless, adult body happens to be one circle larger than these ventilation holes, the little Japanese are really shrewd, fearing enemies climbing in via ventilation holes to enter fortress interior, deliberately dug the holes saying big not big, saying small not small.

I called Pangzi and Yingzi over, told them the exit is gone, we either go find another exit, or directly take submachine guns back to the ancient tomb, eliminate the corpse evil, can't just waste time in here, we have no dry rations, also didn't find Japanese fortress having food, continuing to wander like this, when starving to the point can't crawl, we can only wait to die.

The situation is clear, this underground fortress has great depth, several dozen kilometers, from this exit to another exit needs much time, moreover looking for other exits already meaningless, Japanese wouldn't kindly leave an exit, since they blew up one, the others definitely also blown up.

Yingzi kicked with her foot the large bat corpse on the ground: "Really can't do it, still can eat this thing, all meat."

Pangzi hurriedly shook head: "You eat if you want, I'd starve rather than eat, this is too damn disgusting, I estimate the meat is rotten, or maybe sour, can't eat well, anyway, Lao Hu, you said this iron door might not be the exit? Should be possible, we try to open it to see."

I thought and said: "This possibility indeed exists, because the map didn't mark this chamber, only drew a passage connecting to the exit, however hard to precisely locate, can't confirm the door leads to passage. Actually opening this door isn't hard, I saw tools in the hangar, we can go find a suitably sized hex wrench."

Yingzi at the side said: "Going back to the hangar to get a few clothes to change, look how filthy we three are, enough for fifteen people to look at for half a month."

After her reminder, we realized that all three of us were filthy beyond description—our clothes, hair, faces, and hands were all smeared with bat droppings, blood, mud, and a stench that reeked to high heaven.

We then went back down to the lower hangar, which was only a few hundred meters away. There, we found several sets of Kwantung Army uniforms and greatcoats, changed into them, roughly wiped off the dirt and blood on our faces, and each of us grabbed a steel helmet and fastened it on our heads.

Yingzi was naturally handsome, and wearing the military uniform made her even more striking. Pangzi cheered from the side: "Hey, little sis, you look just like Yoshiko Kawashima in that Japanese uniform!"

Yingzi didn't know who Yoshiko Kawashima was and thought Pangzi was complimenting her, so she felt pleased. I told her: "He's saying you look like a Japanese female spy."

Upon hearing this, Yingzi's willow brows shot up in anger, and Pangzi quickly said: "I misspoke, I misspoke—I should have said that seeing Yingzi in military uniform holding a gun reminded me of Chairman Mao's poem: 'Dawn light shines on the drill field, valiant spirit with a five-foot rifle, sons and daughters of China harbor extraordinary ambitions, loving neither rouge nor silk but arms.'"

I laughed from the side: "Pangzi's practically become a poet lately—he's always wanting to recite a couplet. Look at our current outfit—we really do resemble Japanese devils now. This reminds me of a story my father's old comrade once told me. Back then I was still young, and that uncle of mine served alongside my father in Shandong as part of the Eighth Route Army. When the victory of the War of Resistance came, they received orders from the Party Central Committee to take a ship from the Shandong Peninsula to Northeast China to claim the fruits of victory. My father got seasick and couldn't go, and he regretted it deeply afterward, having heard that the Northeast was full of foreign goods—those good things were as plentiful as the sea. Later, when I heard from this uncle, he told me that after they arrived in Northeast China, they seized a Kwantung Army warehouse from the old Russians. The entire regiment changed into new uniforms—except for the flag, which remained Chinese, everything else from clothing to shoes to weapons was Japanese, identical to the Kwantung Army's. When the local Northeasterners saw them from afar, they turned and fled, thinking the Japanese devils had come back. I feel we now have a bit of that same feeling as our revolutionary predecessors who seized foreign goods."

As I spoke, I found a 【gun】 on a rack storing gasoline drums.

The three of us wore Kwantung Army uniforms, carried Type 98 submachine guns, and returned along the original route. I still brought up the rear, but this time Pangzi and the others didn't mention seeing any child's shadow again. I didn't ask aloud, but my mind was filled with unfounded suspicions, making me unavoidably paranoid.

I silently thought: "Pangzi said that child ran into the iron door—what exactly does this little brat want? Is he trying to show us the way out? Could such a lucky break really happen? Or does he have other motives? Damn it, I still have a bit of glutinous rice left—I heard ghosts fear glutinous rice. If that little brat dares to cause trouble, I'll make him retreat in defeat. If not, it won't show off my skills as Old Hu."

As I followed them, I encouraged myself, and the pain in my back seemed to ease. Not long after, we arrived for the second time at the stone cave with the "airtight door."

To be prepared for anything, we all put on our steel helmets and gas masks, pulled back the bolts, chambered rounds, and before opening the door, I had Yingzi grab a handful of glutinous rice to scatter, and I told Pangzi to aim his submachine gun, ready to fire at anything inside—no questions asked, shoot first, talk later. I also instructed Pangzi to coordinate with me, taking turns firing so there would be no gap while changing magazines.

After everything was set, I slung the submachine gun over my shoulder, gripped the hexagonal wrench on the door's threads, and turned with all my strength. This secret door hadn't been opened in decades, and the threads were rusted solid.

I exerted every ounce of strength—even the strength to suckle—and the wrench nearly bent under my force. Finally, I heard a "geez-geez-geez-geez" sound, and the three air channels beneath the door let out a "hiss" as air rushed into the airtight chamber. The iron door clanged and rattled: "clang, clank, clank, clank..."

Kwantung Army Secret Fortress 5

The air channels in the airtight door filled with air, the heavy iron door swung open with a response, I quickly stepped back two steps, raised my submachine gun and flashlight to aim at the doorway—but inside, everything was silent and still.

The situation was unexpected: all I saw inside was pitch-black darkness, indistinguishable objects. The flashlight beam shot in, only to be swallowed by the darkness within.

I gestured to Yingzi, she understood, and flung a large handful of glutinous rice into the secret chamber like a heavenly maiden scattering flowers—but still, there was not the slightest movement inside. It seemed as if all sound in the world had vanished, and all I could hear was my own heavy breathing through the gas mask.

It seemed we had been overly cautious—so-called "suspicion breeds ghosts." We hadn't even done anything yet, and we had already frightened ourselves half to death.

Finally, Pangzi could no longer hold back, took the lead, and marched into the secret chamber. Yingzi and I followed closely behind, filing in one after another.

The secret chamber was approximately forty square meters in size, a solitary room with no other exit besides the airtight door.

Inside were neither biological nor chemical weapons. Before entering, I had nearly considered every possibility—except that the room contained more than a dozen large coffins. These coffins were haphazardly piled inside the chamber, the wood aged and decayed—some already rotted, varying in size, with different craftsmanship and styles. There was even an oversized stone coffin, and the most luxurious were two large coffins made of golden-thread nanmu wood. Scattered across the floor were countless pottery and porcelain fragments.

I turned to look at Pangzi and the others—they both shook their heads at me. Though wearing gas masks, I could still sense their blank, bewildered expressions.

Pangzi asked me: "Old Hu, what's going on? This damn place looks like a museum—where did all these coffins come from?"

I pondered for a moment. Actually, this wasn't hard to guess—we had just assumed too much and failed to consider this.

The Wild Man Gully was originally an ancient tomb cluster from the Jin-Liao period. When the Kwantung Army built this secret underground fortress, especially the three connecting passages between the two fortresses, they happened to cut straight through the valley of Wild Man Gully. During construction, they must have unearthed many ancient tombs. The burial goods inside, as well as the coffins of Jin-Liao nobility, were treasures to the Japanese. They took everything excavated from the tombs and stored it in these semi-vacuum-sealed chambers. The Kwantung Army retreated in haste, and when they left, they only packed up the funerary antiquities, leaving these coffins behind, where they have remained ever since.

Pangzi said: "The Japanese really know how to take advantage—they left nothing for us. Let's check if there's anything valuable inside these coffins, so our trip wasn't in vain." He then kicked open the lid of a large coffin with his foot—the coffin lid had already been pried open by the Japanese and never re-nailed, so one kick sent it flying to the side.

Yingzi dared not come closer to look: "I'll just wait at the door for you two, and keep an eye out so no one locks us in here." After saying that, she walked to the doorway, one foot inside, one foot outside, guarding the entrance.

I said to Yingzi at the door: "Still, my little sis is sharp—I didn't even think of that. I've wasted all these years as a soldier. This door can only be opened from outside—if we all get locked in this chamber, we might not even find a way to cry for help."

Pangzi only cared about rummaging through the coffins, flipping things over while cursing: "Damn it, nothing but bone fragments—those Japanese devils really lack morality, practicing the 'three alls' policy wherever they go. They didn't even leave us a single intact jar."

After flipping through three or four coffins, all the same, Pangzi cursed nonstop, then went to push the lacquered golden-thread nanmu coffin.

I didn't pay much attention to the ordinary coffins—my gaze was fixed on that huge stone coffin, my intuition telling me: there's something inside...

I didn't understand why I had this feeling, but suddenly I felt compelled to open that stone coffin and see what was inside. I called Pangzi over to help, and together we pushed the stone slab on top—it was extraordinarily heavy, and after pushing for a long time, we only managed to create a narrow gap.

Pangzi panted, waved his hand, and said: "Can't do it... let's rest a bit... too heavy... can't push it on an empty stomach."

My stomach was also growling with hunger, and after that effort, I saw stars—so I had to sit down to rest. We took off our gas masks and each lit a cigarette.

Pangzi exhaled a smoke ring: "Old Hu, do you think ancient people had water in their brains, making these stone coffins? I've never seen anyone use stone as a coffin before."

I stroked the stone slab and said: "This isn't a coffin—it's a stone outer coffin, a sarcophagus. The wooden coffin is inside this stone box. Only someone of high rank could enjoy such treatment—maybe even a prince."

Pangzi scratched his head: "Oh, so that's how it is—really damn complicated. Similarly buried in Wild Man Gully, our general's tomb compared to whoever's inside this stone coffin—who had the higher rank?"

I shook my head: "I don't know—this is hard to say. We don't understand history well, but during the several hundred years of the Jin-Liao period, northern nomadic peoples were unprecedentedly strong—they gained their empire from horseback. I'd guess they valued martial prowess over literature, so it's likely the highest-ranking military noble was buried in this auspicious spot's central grave. The other nobles buried nearby might have even richer burial goods than the general's tomb. The tomb owner's preferences in life would differ, so the burial goods would vary too. Take the ancient tomb we dug up: the tomb owner was a mere warrior, with no refined taste or artistic appreciation, so his grave goods were mostly horses and weapons."

Pangzi said: "Actually, those horses were probably all thousand-mile steeds—if they were alive, they'd be worth a fortune. But now only horse bones remain—likely not even wanted by scrap dealers. Fortunately, he still had two jade bi discs, so we didn't come all this way for nothing. Let's take these two jade bi back and have Da Jin Ya find a buyer—they'll surely fetch tens of thousands."

As we spoke, our cigarettes burned out. We two put our gas masks back on, gathered our strength, and pushed the stone slab again—Yingzi came over to help, and finally we shifted the slab aside, revealing inside the stone sarcophagus a wooden coffin with a pure black base. This coffin was nearly twice the size of an ordinary one, and unusually tall—not counting the arched lid, it stood over half a person high.

The coffin's craftsmanship was exquisite, certainly not a common object. Both ends, all sides, and the lid were painted with gold lacquer and colorful depictions of auspicious divine beasts—cranes, qilins, tortoise-snakes, and the like—meant to bless the occupant so that after death, their body would dissolve and they would become an immortal. On the lid, there was also a star chart of the twenty-eight lunar mansions. Around the base of the coffin ran a band of gold-patterned cloud-scroll designs. Some secret technique must have been used, for after hundreds of years, the colors remain as vivid as new—truly awe-inspiring.

We had never seen such a magnificent, splendid coffin before—if we hadn't seen it with our own eyes, we couldn't have imagined such an artistic masterpiece of a coffin existed in the world.

Pangzi rejoiced: "Even if there's nothing inside, if we carry this coffin back and sell it, we'll make a fortune." He rolled up his sleeves and shoved the coffin lid open.

Yingzi couldn't help but want to see what was inside this large coffin. The three of us gathered around, shone our flashlights inside—the brocade lining had long since rotted to uselessness, likely turning to dust at a touch. Layer upon layer of decayed brocade lay beneath a skeleton, and though a thousand years had passed, clothes and flesh had completely rotted away—only the skull remained somewhat intact, mouth wide open, revealing two rows of black, rotted teeth. Much of the skeletal structure had dissolved into the air—if not for the skull, one might not even recognize this as a human skeleton.

Yingzi swept her flashlight beam along the edge of the giant coffin and screamed: "Oh my god, it's that little brat!"

Only then did we see—at each end of the coffin stood a naked boy and girl, about five or six years old, their faces lifelike. The boy had his hair tied in a topknot, the girl's hair was coiled into two buns—a hairstyle not of modern times, resembling figures in ancient murals. Could they be the sacrificed boy and girl of the Daoist deity? The coffin's occupant had long since rotted away—how were these children preserved so perfectly?

Kwantung Army Secret Fortress 6

"These two brats are probably dolls, made so lifelike." Pangzi said, reaching to pinch the children in the giant coffin: "Grandpa Pang wants to see today—have they become spirits or not?"

I grabbed Pangzi's hand: "Don't touch without gloves—this might be poisonous. Look closely at these two children—their bodies are covered in bluish-purple patches—this is mercury rash."

In the 1950s, my grandfather Hu Guohua once stayed at a large hospital in Beijing for treatment. During that time, it just so happened that the hospital grounds were about to begin construction on a building called the "Workers' Stadium." The construction crew unearthed an ancient tomb, and my grandfather even sneaked out from the hospital to go see the excitement, entering the underground palace to take a look.

That tomb was said to belong to a Ming dynasty prince. Around it flowed black water, and the underground palace's burial chambers were divided into front, middle, and rear sections. At the gate hung a thousand-jin gate; passing through it, one first entered the "Ming Hall" (or "Dark Hall"), arranged according to the tomb owner's former residence, with various furnishings—these objects are called "Ming artifacts" (or "Dark artifacts").

Further in, the middle chamber, called the "Sleeping Hall," is where the coffin and sarcophagus are placed. This tomb was a joint burial, and unusually, the coffins of the tomb owner and his wife—the prince and princess—were suspended midair in the Sleeping Hall by large iron chains, large copper rings, and copper locks.

After that came the "Pei Hall," dedicated solely to housing burial goods.

Moreover, just a few days later, a Yuan dynasty tomb was unearthed in Haidian. Both tombs contained sacrificed boy and girl children, and when unearthed, they looked exactly like living children—except that in the Yuan tomb, the children's clothing turned to dust at the slightest touch.

Later, my grandfather told me these two incidents as stories. He said these boy and girl children, while alive, were made to swallow mercury, and then holes were drilled into their skulls, upper backs, and soles of their feet, through which mercury was poured in. After death, their bodies were coated all over with mercury powder, making them resemble specimens. After ten thousand years, their flesh and skin did not rot—this technique far surpasses ancient Egyptian mummification. However, the two civilizations differed in background and values, and preserving corpses with injected mercury required living subjects—dead blood doesn't circulate, so it can't be injected. Thus, this method was never used on any tomb occupant.

The most cruel thing in the world is probably using living people as burial sacrifices. Pangzi put on gloves, lifted one of the children's bodies, and examined it carefully—sure enough, on the crown of the head, upper back, and soles of the feet, he found several holes. These holes in the bodies had been skillfully sealed with lacquer by artisans, and the corpses showed many bluish-purple rash spots. Buried individuals or gold, silver, and jade artifacts often had mercury powder applied, which over time undergoes chemical change—recent specimens show reddish-brown, older ones turn bluish-purple. This rash is commonly called "mercury rash" or "mercury infiltration," and in some places, corpse rash is referred to as "rotten yin child" or "mercury blue."

Pangzi was clearly nervous, he forced himself to stay calm, took a breath, and said: "I've read Lu Xun's novels before—there were descriptions of mercury appearing on antiques, and it seems that old man wasn't just making it up—this really happens."

Yingzi asked: "This is too pitiful, Hu Ge—you say these boy and girl burial sacrifices, why weren't they given clothes? I remember seeing that little brat who ran past earlier wearing clothes—could he be a ghost?"

I told her: "Whether they're ghosts or not, only they know. But it's not that these two children aren't wearing clothes—buried boy and girl children were definitely dressed in fine attire. After nearly a thousand years, their clothes have long since rotted away. How many years has it been? This giant coffin is probably from the Yuan dynasty. When the Kwantung Army dug up this coffin and opened it at that moment, the clothes turned to dust upon contact with air."

I used to not believe in ghosts, but sometimes cold, hard facts stare you in the face, and you can't help but believe. Pangzi and Yingzi saw the child's shadow in the passage, identical to the buried boy and girl in the coffin, and there's also the handprint on my back—the facts here exceed human cognition. Perhaps it can be explained by sixth sense, premonition, etc. —but in any case, all of this already belongs to the supernatural. With our limited understanding, we've only caught a glimpse of this mysterious, unknown world.

However, these two children's spirits led us here—what exactly are they up to? Judging by the situation, they don't seem to have any ill intent.

Yingzi said: "Maybe they want us to bury their bodies, as the saying goes, 'to rest in peace.' Why don't we help them out? How pitiful."

Pangzi nodded in agreement: "I only want to get rich and don't want to meddle in trivial matters, but this situation is special—let's do a good deed, take them out, dig a grave, and give them a proper burial. Don't let them lie here naked and exposed. They've stood guard for the tomb owner for a thousand years; it's time they rested."

The bodies are filled with mercury, which cannot be burned away; the only thing we can do is dig a hole and bury them. That's all we can manage, but I hope such tragedies become fewer in the world.

Without further delay, I and Pangzi took off our Kwantung Army greatcoats, wrapped the boy and girl separately inside, fastened the buttons, and carried them on our backs. The mercury-soaked corpses were dead weight, but fortunately they were children—if they were adults, one person carrying them would truly be a burden.

Seeing no valuable treasure, Pangzi felt somewhat displeased and wanted to burn all the coffins in a fit of anger. I and Yingzi hurried to stop him, and he reluctantly gave up.

We returned to the stone cave to discuss how to get out. At this moment, everyone was suffering from hunger and thirst. It's hateful that the underground fortress has no food or water, nor any explosives. To return to the surface, the only way is through the tomb's robber passage—but thinking of the corpse demon's strength really gives one a headache. Even if we were full and strong, we might not be a match for it, let alone now, when we're so hungry our limbs feel weak.

The three of us exchanged glances; our thoughts were nearly the same. There were over a dozen dead bats on the ground—by now, we could only use them as offerings to the Five Sacred Temples.

Humans are naturally omnivorous; once starving to desperation, there's almost nothing we won't eat. Yingzi said she ate bats as a child with her grandfather in a mountain cave. That year, a mountain fire broke out, followed by a rare famine. Large animals in the mountains had vanished, so people ate moles, bats, locusts, and even "grass planes"—the tendons and crisp bones of bats are delicious and chewy.

These pig-faced giant bats in the stone cave are gaunt and misshapen, looking utterly ferocious—like dried corpses of blood-sucking demons. As for the claim that their meat is tasty, I and Pangzi remain skeptical.

But for survival, we couldn't afford to be picky. To start a fire and roast, we had to return to the hangar, where many wooden crates could serve as firewood—of course, coffin planks could burn too. However, roasting meat over coffin wood fire is hard to accept. So Pangzi used the rope on his person to tie five or six plump dead bats by their feet, stringing them together and dragging them along—this included the super-large bat king.

Back in the hangar, we placed the bundle containing the boy and girl's greatcoats to one side. Yingzi took out a short knife and chopped off the bats' ugly heads, the meatless paws, then ripped open their bellies, throwing out the clumps of bluish-gray intestines and other excess organs, and finally roughly peeled off the skin.

I found a large pile of wooden crates, kicked them apart into planks with my feet, then took out a knife and shaved some wood shavings. I lit the shavings with a match to start the fire, and Pangzi assisted nearby, crouching on the ground, rolling up his sleeves and blowing air to fan the flames.

We also took several bayonets from rifles, skewered the bats, and held them over the fire to roast. Pangzi frowned, clearly unwilling to eat such things.

Yingzi advised: "It's not bad—don't think of it as bat meat. Chew a few more times, and it tastes just like mutton."

I didn't care—bat meat isn't that different from rat meat. During drills in Shaanxi, I've eaten field mice, dormice, flying squirrels, voles, and various other rodents many times. They all taste similar—fatty and lean, like three-layered pork—and indeed resemble mutton, though I've never actually eaten bat meat before.

The pig-faced giant bat is a warm-blooded animal with little fat, unsuitable for long roasting. Once the meat changed color, I took a bite first—the shoulder meat was crisp, with plenty of tendons and crisp bones inside. It's not as good as mutton, but it certainly has chew.

Seeing me eat, Pangzi pinched his nose and took a bite, found it quite satisfactory, and then, like a whirlwind, devoured an entire bat. Still wanting more, he skewered the largest bat king on a bayonet and began roasting it.

When we had eaten about half, a string of sticky, glistening liquid dripped from the ceiling above Pangzi's head, landing right on his face. He was enjoying his meal, saw his face was wet, and instinctively wiped it, then exclaimed oddly: "Who the hell is drooling this much? It's all over my head!"

Kwantung Army Secret Fortress 7

Pangzi was eating happily when the dripping liquid from the ceiling above landed exactly on his face. He blurted out without thinking: "Who the hell is drooling this much? It's all over my head!" As soon as he spoke, he realized the question sounded odd.

Only three of us are in the underground fortress—me and Yingzi are sitting across from him. Even if we had the ability, we couldn't possibly drool onto his head from where we are.

All three of us felt strange, simultaneously looking up to see what was dripping. The fire made from burning ammunition box scraps and wood planks illuminated the surroundings brightly, but beyond the fire's reach, it remained a pitch-black void.

Right above our heads, where firelight met darkness, a huge human face protruded—over twice the size of a normal face, powder-white as if coated in flour, with no expression at all. One couldn't tell if it was happy or angry. It had a hooked eagle nose, a pair of blood-red monstrous eyes fixed on Pangzi's hand holding the roasted bat meat, thick and large lips protruding forward, a gaping black mouth, and a blood-red tongue half-hanging from the corner, drool nearly flowing like a river, dripping down in drops and strings.

The owner of that face had a very long neck, skin black and hard. Due to the high ceiling of the underground hangar, his body was hidden in the darkness beyond the fire's reach—only his face and a section of neck were visible. He seemed very interested in our roasted bat meat, wanting to lunge down and snatch it, but he feared the burning flames below and hesitated, unable to decide.

However, judging by his appearance, the aroma of the roasted meat was too tempting—he could no longer restrain himself and was about to jump down from the inverted ceiling at any moment.

What exactly is this—person or monster? The three of us looked up, all startled and curious. Though I didn't know what this thing was, I could tell it wanted to eat our roasted bat meat.

We had brought out five large bats from the stone cave—Yingzi and I each ate half a bat, Pangzi ate a whole one himself, leaving three. Pangzi divided the largest bat king into three parts, skewered one part on a rifle bayonet, and placed it over the fire to turn and roast.

This pig-faced bat king—who knows how many hundreds of years it lived—is enormous in size, not counting wings, its body alone is as big as a five- or six-year-old child, and quite heavy. Our roasting fire is small; even after dividing the bat king into three parts, we can only roast one at a time. So only Pangzi's portion is about eighty percent done; the rest remain uncooked dead bats.

But at this critical moment, there was no time to think further. I saw Pangzi frozen in fear by the expressionless face above him, so I quickly snatched the bayonet with the roasted bat meat from his hand, swung it in a half-circle before the monstrous face, and flung it aside with force.

I used too much strength, so instead of flying far, the bat meat slipped off the bayonet and landed not far behind Yingzi. Before she could turn to look, a huge beast leapt down from the ceiling, lunged forward, and in one gulp snatched the roasted bat king into its mouth, swallowing it whole without chewing.

By the firelight, we saw clearly: the creature was not human. Its face resembled a baboon's—almost human-like, with an extremely long neck. Its body size and shape resembled a bear's, but without the bear's clumsiness. Compared to that, its build appeared slightly flattened, hind limbs bowed, short and thick, forelimbs unusually long. When moving, it could grip wall crevices and hang suspended. Watching its movements, on flat ground it was less agile than when climbing walls.

Yingzi had never seen such a creature before, but I and Pangzi had seen its picture in a museum. As soon as it revealed its full form, we immediately recognized it: it's the "Grassland Giant Sloth"—yes, exactly this creature.

It lives in underground caves deep in the grasslands, mainly distributed across the vast grasslands of South America, Africa, Outer Mongolia, and similar regions. Like other sloths, the grassland giant sloth differs from its jungle-dwelling relatives, and differs even more from its distant tree sloth kin. The grassland giant sloth inherits more traits from its ancestor, the "Ice Age Giant Sloth"—it is exceptionally large in size, primarily carnivorous, rarely active in sunlight, and prefers to prey on giant bats, giant moles, pythons, and other subterranean animals.

The grassland giant sloth's hunting method is to wait in stillness, rarely initiating attack. It hides silently in darkness, motionless—sometimes lurking for days without drinking or eating—until an animal passes nearby, then it suddenly strikes like lightning, extending its huge mouth to swallow the prey whole.

When the country was newly founded, African brother nations once sent one to Beijing Zoo, but it couldn't adapt to Beijing's environment and died soon after. When I, Pangzi, and some classmates were touring Beijing and linked up with the Beijing Red Guards who had joined our victory forces, they took us around everywhere, and we saw the giant cage meant for the grassland giant sloth in the zoo. The animal inside was already dead, leaving only an empty cage. We saw a huge empty cage and found it somewhat strange, so we took a closer look—the cage had its description and pictures.

Years later, we still remember this clearly—but never imagined we'd encounter such a creature in the Kwantung Army's underground fortress, and one this large.

It must have followed the pig-faced giant bats here—there are countless such bats in this fortress. We only saw one nest in a stone cave, but there are certainly no fewer than a thousand. The fortress extends dozens of kilometers deep—perhaps somewhere, several more nests remain hidden.

Its skin is tough and thick, with many small bony plates underneath, like wearing multiple layers of armor. After adulthood, these plates become unbreakable.

The pig-faced giant bat's claws are sharp—able to easily tear through cow and sheep hide—but they cannot injure the grassland giant sloth. Even if scratched a few times on its body, it feels no pain or itch. Here, it has no natural enemies, and with countless pig-faced giant bats available for hunting, it is truly in its element.

However, I don't know how the grassland giant sloth's massive body entered the fortress—possibly an earthquake or mountain collapse created large cracks in the underground fortress, allowing it to crawl in to forage. If we find that entrance, we should also be able to escape through it.

After the grassland giant sloth leapt down from the ceiling and ate the roasted bat meat, it extended its long tongue and licked around its mouth a few times. Clearly, this morsel didn't satisfy its appetite, but instead stirred its hunger further. It stared at us three, wondering what to do. In the underground world, it is king—it occasionally launches active hunts, and when it moves, almost nothing can stop it.

At this moment of standoff, I turned things over in my mind—the terrain of the underground fortress, and how to deal with wild beasts—these are somewhat unfamiliar to me. Should I strike first? My submachine gun is at hand, but the Type 100 submachine gun's firepower is limited, and the grassland giant sloth's hide and bone can withstand it. Better not to provoke a snake and get bitten—anger it without being sure I can escape.

The Japanese military's Yokosuka-style rifle has strong penetration—it should be able to take down the grassland giant sloth—but we only took a few bayonets. The two rifles previously loaded with ammunition are placed twenty or thirty meters away. Someone must distract the sloth's attention before I can run to get them. This back-and-forth would take a short time, but the sloth is already too close to our position…

After thinking a few thoughts with no certainty, Pangzi stood in place and quietly said to me: "Old Hu, I remember this creature only eats warm-blooded and cold-blooded animals, not humans. In my opinion, we're fine." He meant to gently kick the dead bats toward the grassland giant sloth with his foot—here, take this, go eat quickly, and don't bother us.

Who would have thought—the grassland giant sloth didn't even glance at the dead bats, but instead kept drooling at us without stopping.

Pangzi turned his head and asked me: "Why won't it eat the bats? It keeps staring at us—doesn't look friendly."

I dare not distract myself talking to Pangzi, keeping my eyes fixed on every move of the grassland giant sloth. If it shows any intent to attack, I can only act first, grab the submachine gun from the ground, and give it a burst.

Yingzi said: "We've all eaten quite a bit of roasted bat meat—it probably… thinks we're bats…"

Before she finished, the grassland giant sloth could no longer resist the aroma of the roasted bat meat—it stepped toward us one step at a time. All wild animals eat raw meat, because they've never tasted cooked meat. Once they do, the flavor of cooked meat becomes the greatest temptation to them.

I noticed its movements were sluggish, so I thought it better not to fight but to run. I called out to the other two, and we three turned and ran. After just two steps, my foot tripped on a hard object, sending me falling—my knees nearly shattered. Pangzi and Yingzi also fell to the ground at the same time.

I silently wondered: what tripped me? As I fell, I glanced at the ground—it was flat, with nothing that could trip someone. A thought struck me: "All I'm thinking about is escaping, but I forgot to bring the bodies of the boy and girl—could it be a ghost tripping me?"

Kwantung Army Secret Fortress 8

The grassland giant sloth has probably never seen a human walking on two legs before. It smelled the roasted bat meat on our three bodies and already took us for bats—only it temporarily can't accept bats that look like us, and it also fears the firelight, so it dares not approach easily, currently calculating how to swallow these few delicacies within reach. Seeing us three fall to the ground, it "whooshed" over.

Its hind limbs are thick and strong—one leap brought it right in front of Pangzi. Perhaps it thought this one had more meat, so it prepared to first take Pangzi as a snack.

Seeing this, Pangzi had no choice but to struggle desperately, his hands scraping wildly on the ground for a weapon. Fortunately, there was the bayonet used for roasting bats. Pangzi grabbed it instinctively and stabbed it straight into the grassland giant sloth's arm, all the way to the hilt.

That bayonet had been roasted for a long time, so it was like a red-hot iron rod. After stabbing the sloth, only a burnt stench came from its nose. This sloth, which roams unchallenged in underground caves, has never suffered such a loss—it was in pain and anger, yet dared not bite Pangzi again, slowly retreating a few steps, waiting for another chance.

After the red-hot bayonet pierced once, the temperature dropped immediately. The sloth's fresh blood caused the blade to emit faint white vapors. Pangzi's strike succeeded only thanks to the bayonet's heat—otherwise, he couldn't have pierced it at all.

I took advantage of the opening created by Pangzi's repelling the sloth, and together with Yingzi, each of us carried the military greatcoat wrapped around the boy and girl's bodies onto our backs, hoping these two little spirits won't cause trouble again.

I bent down again to pick up the submachine gun in my hand. Though I know this Type 100 submachine gun's firepower is far from enough to kill the grassland giant sloth, in a critical moment I still hope it can block one or two attacks.

Before I could even pull back the bolt on my gun, a claw suddenly shot out from the wall behind me, lunging straight for the top of my head. It came too fast, with fierce force—I didn't have time to duck, so I had to block with the submachine gun in my hand. The claw swept it away; I couldn't hold on, and the submachine gun flew from my grip, landing far off in the darkness where the firelight couldn't reach.

It turned out that, without my noticing, four more steppe giant ground sloths had crawled down from the wall—two large, two small. The smallest was nearly the size of an adult. Clearly, like the first one, they had been drawn by the smell of the roasted bat meat and had come to feed.

The five steppe giant ground sloths surrounded us three in a tight circle. As soon as one lunged forward to lead the attack, the others would follow in a swarm, tearing us apart and eating us piece by piece.

Our only reliance now was that pile of fire. The three of us stood back-to-back, pressed together. Pangzi took a bayonet, Yingzi held the submachine gun, and I was bare-handed.

The fire from the burning wood chips was visibly dimming, and it would go out in moments. If we had to wait until then, we'd become the steppe giant ground sloths' meal. Thinking this, I couldn't help but mutter darkly: "One is already damn hard to deal with—now look, the whole family of steppe giant ground sloths holed up in this fortress has come out. We're trapped in a desperate situation—how can we carve a bloody path out?"

Lingering like this wouldn't work. I grabbed a burning stick from the fire and swung it at the smallest of the steppe giant ground sloths blocking our path. It was indeed startled, frightened by the torch and shrank to the side, creating a gap in the encirclement.

The torch's flame was already small, and swinging it nearly put it out. We didn't dare delay—we all rushed out together. A few drooling steppe giant ground sloths hesitated briefly, then lunged at us as one.

Yingzi's submachine gun fired a string of bullets. The leading steppe giant ground sloth was hit, blood spraying from its body. But their entire bodies were covered in thick hide and tough membranes—though the bullets penetrated, they couldn't pierce the internal bone armor. Instead, they only enraged the creatures, which pressed forward step by step, determined to eat all three of us before stopping.

Of the three of us, only Yingzi had the submachine gun. Every time she changed magazines, Pangzi and I waved our burning sticks to fend off the steppe giant ground sloths, denying them a chance to close in. We fought while retreating, but since our breakout direction was blind, we kept moving farther from where we'd left our weapons—ironically retreating all the way to the hangar's large iron door.

Outside the iron door lay the corpse demons. We had originally planned to eat our fill, rest, then carefully plot an exit through the passage outside the door. But the sudden attack by the steppe giant ground sloths caught us off guard, and in our haste we retreated here. The torch's flame grew weaker and weaker, until only a charred stick remained, with just a few sparks glowing on top. Ammunition was also running low.

The steppe giant ground sloths were huge in size; several pressed together formed an impassable wall. A single swipe of their claws could break bones and tendons at minimum. Their encirclement slowly tightened, pinning us before the iron door with no room to advance, retreat, or maneuver.

Left with no choice, we had to go all in. Pangzi and I threw our spark-emitting sticks at the steppe giant ground sloths, while Yingzi swept with her Type 100 submachine gun, using our last strength to drive the creatures back a few steps. Pangzi turned and shoved open the iron door that had been locked behind him, and I hurled a black donkey's hoof outward.

To our surprise, there was no corpse demon in front of the door. We had no time to think, retreating one after another into the passage behind the iron door. Pangzi was just about to shut the large iron door when—without warning—a tremendous force slammed into it from within. The steppe giant ground sloths, weighing several tons, struck with monstrous strength. We three strained with all our might to push the door shut, but no matter what we did, we couldn't make it budge.

Suddenly, a blast of true yin wind hit us in the face. I jerked back in alarm—turns out, the corpse of the Jin Kingdom general possessed by the evil god had never left the doorway; it had been wandering around here all along. The corpse demon had no intellect; after death, a sorcerer had placed a talisman on it, making it act like a zombie—mindlessly lunging at any living person it saw.

The corpse demon came as it said it would, and silently, like a flash of wind and lightning. Had I not been battle-hardened with extensive combat experience, I would have already been knocked down. I rolled to the ground, about to rise and dodge, when the iron door was already burst open—and the largest steppe giant ground sloth leapt out first.

Using its powerful hind legs, the steppe giant ground sloth sprang from the door like a giant frog, landing squarely on the corpse demon and knocking it over. The demon fell, unable to bend its body, and immediately bounced back up. Its ten fingers, like steel knives, plunged into the sloth's chest.

The steppe giant ground sloth let out a strange cry, opened its mouth to bite, and shortly after, several other large and small steppe giant ground sloths poured out of the hangar. Seeing their companion injured, they all rushed forward to tear and bite the corpse demon.

One of the smallest steppe giant ground sloths had its head torn off alive by the corpse demon, while the demon itself had two of the sloths biting into its body. Their supernatural strength was evenly matched, and for a moment, they became entangled. In an instant, blood and chunks of flesh from the steppe giant ground sloths splattered across the walls, floor, and iron door, flying everywhere. At the same time, the corpse demon lost one of its arms to a bite.

Seeing this heart-stopping scene before us, we all secretly shuddered. If the corpse demon and the steppe giant ground sloths attacked us from front and rear, these three of us would surely die without a burial place. Our accidental blunder had, without meaning to, created a situation where two tigers fought each other—truly a stroke of luck.

Opportunity must not be lost. We carried the corpses of the boy and girl toward the breach in the rear chamber wall of the ancient tomb, cursing that our parents hadn't given us two more legs. We fled like stray dogs, desperate as fish escaping a net—this pitiful state needs no further description.

The large hole in the tomb wall from the collapse remained exactly as it had been when we first escaped through it—we had fled out before, and now we fled back in, having made a full circle. We gained nothing of value, only brought this trouble upon ourselves for nothing, and now we also had these two corpses filled with mercury. Truly, it's enough to make one laugh and cry. Still, though the underground fortress held nothing valuable, it did have plenty of clothing and equipment—perhaps a few simple generators could still be found somewhere. We could tell the villagers about this, so our ordeal in the underground fortress—risking life and limb for all this time—would not have been in vain.

All we needed was to climb out of the vertical shaft beyond the robbery tunnel. At this point, everyone's spirit and strength had reached their limit—but when people are desperate, they fight like mad; when dogs are cornered, they leap over walls. In dire straits, human potential often surges. Yingzi swept her submachine gun across the coffin planks blocking the robbery tunnel, firing two full magazines, sending wood chips flying. The coffin lid, originally set into the wall, was blasted apart in the middle. Pangzi charged forward and, with a shoulder strike, split the plank in two, reopening the robbery tunnel. I pushed Yingzi up the vertical shaft first, then Pangzi and I lifted the boy and girl corpses on our backs up to her. Yingzi caught them above, then reached down and pulled me up.

Only Pangzi remained below, since we two needed to pull him up the shaft before he could climb. As Pangzi was about to climb up, two steppe giant ground sloths, covered head to toe in blood, had already stormed into the tomb chamber. They had gone utterly mad, roaring like thunder—perhaps their entire family had been slaughtered by the corpse demon. Though the demon was fierce, it likely couldn't withstand such a massive beast, and was torn to pieces.

The two remaining steppe giant ground sloths, covered head to toe in wounds, eyes blood-red, pursued us relentlessly, following us all the way into the tomb chamber. Pangzi looked back, his face drained of color, and scrambled up the vertical shaft in panic—the more he rushed, the less he could climb. The steppe giant ground sloths had already reached the robbery tunnel entrance, but fortunately, for them the tunnel was far too narrow to squeeze through. They kept digging at the dirt with their huge claws, trying to widen it so they could crawl out. Seeing the urgency, I grabbed Yingzi's submachine gun and tossed it to Pangzi. He understood, fired a few shots to drive back the sloths jammed at the tunnel mouth, then immediately aimed and swept fire at the Celestial Treasure Dragon Fire Glazed Tile on the tomb chamber's ceiling. The glazed tiles shattered, and bag after bag of Western Regions fire dragon oil poured down, engulfing the entire tomb—including the two steppe giant ground sloths—in flames ignited by the oil.

Meanwhile, Yingzi and I used our last strength to haul Pangzi out of the vertical shaft. Even so, his pants were ignited by a jet of flame spraying from the robbery tunnel, burning a large patch. He kept slapping at the flames on his buttocks, screaming in agony like a pig being butchered. Yingzi quickly grabbed a water jug and doused the fire on his rear—his pants were now burned through, exposing his backside.

The hunting dogs faithfully crouched nearby, watching as their three masters climbed up from the hole. It was already noon, the sun blazing brightly, dazzling to the eyes. I rubbed my eyes—compared to the dark underground fortress, it truly felt like stepping into another world.

Pangzi covered his buttocks with one hand and held up the two jade bi discs he'd taken from the tomb with the other, turning them toward the light to examine them. Unable to resist, he became poetic again, reciting several lines from the famous passage in the long poem about the Great War:

The war flames have already faded, the smoke has already drifted away.

O sun, never before have you been this warm and gentle;

O sky, never before have you been this blue;

The smiles on children's faces, never before have they been this sweet.

Yingzi and I watched Pangzi's antics and couldn't help but burst out laughing—have you ever seen a poet reciting verse while covering his buttocks? But then something sudden happened, and our smiles quickly froze……