Chapter 35: Main Text Chapter Thirty-Five Corpse Fragrant Konjac

Main Text Chapter Thirty-Five Corpse Fragrant Konjac

From afar I smelled a fresh fragrance assaulting the nose; is this demonic flower poisonous? Usually poisonous plants and animals are brightly colored; looking at this corpse fragrant konjac with red leaves and green flowers, its color seems as vivid as if dripping with water, it might indeed be poisonous. Thinking this, I quickly had everyone put on their gas masks.

Pangzi said: "I don't think this flower is poisonous; poisonous things are usually small, but this is huge, as big as a barrel—I think it's a man-eating flower."

Shirley Yang said: "It won't be a man-eating flower; there isn't even an ant around here. If this flower* lived by eating animals, it would have withered long ago. The coffin made from the Kunlun Divine Tree surely provides it with ample nutrients."

Pangzi snorted and said: "Never mind what kind of demonic bird it is; I'll fire a few shots at it, smash it, and then there'll be no danger. Then we'll go over and take a look at that Western Regions' first beauty's zongzi to see what it looks like."

Professor Chen said: "Absolutely not; we'd rather not go over than destroy this precious corpse fragrant konjac."

I rotated the searchlight, shining it around the coffin so the professor and others could see more clearly, but under the light I discovered many characters carved on the edge of the stone beam—densely packed Ghost Cave Script, hundreds of characters in total. This discovery was no small matter; the whole ancient city, including the temple and underground palace, rarely had inscriptions, mostly recording events in murals, with only a few Ghost Cave Script characters on the jade eye in the temple. Unfortunately I hadn't had a chance to examine them closely before I broke them, and I never expected the stone beam to bear so many Ghost Cave Script characters.

Writing is one of the most basic symbols for human information transmission; ancient murals convey information to people in an intuitive sense, whereas the information contained in writing is far more precise. If we decipher these Ghost Cave Scripts, we will avoid many detours in understanding the Jingjue civilization.

Professor Chen hurriedly had the students record the Ghost Cave Script on the stone beam section by section, since the characters were carved large enough that they could be illuminated and recorded with the searchlight without getting close; Shirley Yang was also taking photos with her camera.

Only Pangzi and I had nothing to do, and Professor Chen wouldn't let us smoke here, so we two could only sit on the ground and wait idly for them to finish their work and pack up.

It seems this archaeological work ends here; the haul is not insignificant—just the intact murals in that Heavenly Brick Warrior Road alone would shock the global archaeological community for two years, let alone the bottomless pit, plus the coffin made of Kunlun Divine Wood, the ancient strange flower corpse fragrant konjac—any one of these would keep scholars busy for a long time. We currently lack any protective measures, so opening the coffin to see the Western Regions' first beauty is impossible. A few days ago, when we saw Prince Pumo's coffin in the Holy Well, Professor Chen explicitly forbade us from opening coffins; such actions would likely need to be reported to superiors for approval before proceeding, and I never got the chance to look.

It's a pity Hao Aiguo died in the valley; otherwise, seeing this, I don't know how excited he would have been. Thinking of this, I can't help but feel regret for him, and I also feel somewhat blameful—if I had acted faster back then… Oh well, there aren't that many 'what ifs' in this world. Damn it, if I hadn't let my subordinates take out those Vietnamese agents back then, I might be a battalion commander now. Past events replay vividly before my eyes; the more I think, the less I can calm my mind.

Pangzi saw me spacing out, patted my shoulder, and said: "Lao Hu, what are those two kids up to?"

I snapped out of my tangled thoughts, looked around, and saw Chu Jian and Sa Diteng already walking onto the stone beam. The professor had said not to go up onto the beam to disturb the queen's coffin, didn't he? I hurriedly asked what was going on.

Professor Chen said: "It's fine; they're not going to look at the coffin. There's a lot of dust accumulated in the stone beam, covering the characters. They'll just go over, sweep away the dust, and come back, all wearing gas masks, so nothing will happen."

I wanted to call those two young students back and have me go instead, but Professor Chen said: "No need; the Ghost Cave Script on this stone beam is of great importance. You're not specialists in this—if you accidentally damage it, it'll be trouble. Chu Jian and the others will use a brush to gently sweep away the dust and debris; they're nimble and can finish in a minute or two."

I still felt uneasy, restless; my intuition has always been reliable, and I was sure something would happen. The batch of British explorers who had been here before—why didn't they take away such a precious divine coffin? Aside from one mentally disturbed survivor, where did the rest go? This underground cavern in the mountain looks peaceful and harmless, but what might happen when approaching the queen's coffin? I can't wait any longer; I must quickly call Chu Jian and the other back.

Just as I was about to shout to call them back, it was already too late. I saw the two students walking one after another in the middle of the stone beam; the one behind, Sa Diteng, suddenly bent over, picked up a stone, took two steps forward, and viciously smashed it into the head of the one in front, Chu Jian. Chu Jian didn't even grunt; his body tilted and he fell into the bottomless abyss beneath the stone beam.

All of this happened so suddenly that nobody had time to stop it. Before we could even react to what had occurred, we saw Sa Diteng turn his head, rip off his own gas mask, and grin at everyone—a smile indescribably evil and bizarre. Then he turned, quickly walked to the coffin at the end of the stone beam, and with the stone in his hand fiercely struck his own temple; blood poured from his head like a breached dam. He swayed twice, then collapsed onto the coffin of the Queen of Jingjue, his fate unknown.

The rest of us were stunned by this bloody, bizarre scene. What happened to Sa Diteng? He had always been refined and mild-mannered—how could he suddenly turn into a killing demon, murder his closest classmate, and then commit suicide beside the coffin?

I shouted: "Damn it, this bespectacled guy must be possessed by an evil spirit! Pangzi, quickly grab the black donkey hooves—he might still be alive; we can still save him."

Professor Chen saw in an instant that his two students were one dead, one injured—the dead one had fallen into the abyss, leaving no trace of remains; the injured one lay at the end of the stone beam with a broken, bloody head, motionless, unknown whether still alive. These facts were hard to accept; overcome with anguish, he fainted onto the ground. Ye Yixin hurriedly supported the professor; she too was terrified, unable to do anything but cry.

I thought saving lives was urgent; even if there really were a ghost on the stone beam, I'd have to grit my teeth and fight. On one side I had Pangzi and Shirley Yang assist the professor; on the other I grabbed a weapon, put on my gas mask, and thought: no matter how powerful the evil spirit, it too must fear the nefarious black donkey hooves and three parts glutinous rice. If the corpse fragrant konjac is poisonous, wearing my gas mask means I need not fear it.

I had no time to think further; I stepped onto the stone beam. The beam is three meters wide, suspended above the bottomless abyss. Looking down, I felt my hair stand on end.

I had just walked halfway when I suddenly heard footsteps behind me. Turning back, I saw Pangzi and Shirley Yang following me. I asked them: "You're not going to look after the professor—why are you following me?"

Pangzi said: "Who knows what ghostly thing might be on this stone beam? I don't feel safe letting you go alone. Besides, carrying Sa Diteng by yourself would be exhausting; let's lift him together and retreat quickly to avoid any further mishap."

I thought time was pressing; if I wasted another couple of words, Sa Diteng would lose too much blood and be beyond saving. So I waved them to follow, and the three of us rushed straight to the coffin at the end of the stone beam.

Now that we were close, I could see how bizarrely alluring the strange flower corpse fragrant konjac was—the vivid color of its petals and leaves was shocking to behold. Recalling Professor Chen's words that the demon flower housed an evil spirit's soul, and seeing that we had come this far, I no longer cared about its worldly rarity. I cursed: "Damn it, maybe this demon flower is causing trouble." I swung my entrenching shovel and hacked wildly at the corpse fragrant konjac, reducing the huge blossom to a mangled mess that oozed dark liquid, before I finally stopped.

Shirley Yang saw that I had acted quickly and already chopped the demon flower to pieces, unable to stop me; she sighed helplessly: "Never mind, it's already chopped—hurry and save the person."

I said: "Exactly, quickly staunch Sa Diteng's bleeding." As I spoke I reached for the first-aid bandage, intending to hastily wrap him a couple of times, then quickly carry him back for treatment.

Pangzi reached out and felt Sa Diteng's carotid artery, then sighed: "Don't bother; it's over, no pulse—we're still a step too late."

I slammed my palm onto the coffin in frustration and rage: "Damn it, how am I going to face their parents when we get back? Their families will be grief-stricken to death."

I never expected that my slap on the coffin would cause Sa Diteng's corpse, lying on the ground, to suddenly sit up as if struck by lightning, his eyes bulging blood-red, pointing at the queen's coffin and saying: "She… she… is alive…"

I, Shirley Yang, and Pangzi all jumped in fright. Just moments ago we had clearly felt Sa Diteng's pulse was gone—how could he suddenly sit up? Is this a false death?

Instinctively I reached into my pocket and grabbed a black donkey hoof to smash him, but after Sa Diteng finished speaking he thrust his legs out and fell flat on his back again—this time he really seemed dead.