Chapter 170: Spy Among Spies

Seeing nine enormous centipedes coiled around the coffin altar at the bottom of the rift, motionless, we still felt immense pressure; our faces pale, we backed away while raising our weapons.

The Caucasian expert said, "You don't need to be so tense. It's winter now, the temperature here is still low, and the centipedes are hibernating. These giant bugs won't wake up so easily."

A Ning said, "They won't wake up easily, but there's always the possibility. People like us make perfect hibernation snacks."

Fatty's killing intent flared up again and he said, "Forget whether they wake up or not. I'll sneak over and put a few bullets into their heads. Even if they're ten times bigger, they'll be dead on the spot. Then we'll go see if this Wan Nu King, who crawled out from underground and never ages, is human or monster."

Panzi waved his hand and said, "Absolutely not. Don't you remember what Shunzi said? A dead centipede will wake up its other hibernating companions. This rift runs through the entire Changbai Mountain range. Do you know how many centipedes are in there? What if an even bigger one comes out to avenge its descendants?"

I raised my night-vision binoculars to get a clearer look. Such huge centipedes might be fossils of ancient insects; I couldn't convince myself they were alive. But when I looked, I saw that on the screen wall behind the coffin, the originally blurry relief was actually covered in many Jurchen characters. I was immediately startled and felt excited.

There were a great many characters on the screen wall relief. Where so many characters gather, there must be some narrative content. In the structures Wang Zanghai built, writing rarely appeared, but so many here meant these characters must be essential. They were very likely one of the most precious materials in an ancient tomb—the tomb owner's epitaph.

I quickly pulled over A Ning's subordinate, the short guy who could read Jurchen script, handed him the binoculars, and asked him to help me see what it said.

The short man looked, confused, and said that although these characters looked very similar to Jurchen script, they weren't Jurchen—they were another script from the same language family, and he couldn't figure out what they meant for the moment.

I immediately felt deflated again and cursed inwardly that this Wan Nu King was too cunning, leaving me no weakness at all.

No wonder. Even someone as scheming and meticulous to the extreme as Wang Zanghai, who spent twenty years here directly participating in the renovation of an ancient imperial tomb, couldn't reach the core of the secret the Wan Nu dynasty wanted to hide. The Wan Nu King had set an insurmountable obstacle for him, let alone someone like me who had to guess at everything.

It's a pity Monk Hua isn't here. He's been immersed in this for years and has a way of thinking that others lack. If he were here, he might be able to make some sense of it.

Then I thought again: if Monk Hua were also here, the situation would be too complex for me to control.

One thought after another—my mind didn't even know what it was thinking. Meanwhile, I heard Panzi calling, "Fatty? You okay? Want to switch out?"

I hated hearing Panzi call Fatty's name. My heart jumped, and I looked up to see Fatty and that Coke already climbing onto a chain, carefully walking above the coffin altar. Fatty was tying a rope around his waist, probably planning to hang from the chain like Tom Cruise and lower himself over the coffin. And no one was stopping him; they were even directing Fatty's position.

I asked A Ning what was going on. Were these people planning to watch the nine dragons toy with Fatty? A Ning said, "No problem. Generally, this method won't disturb the centipedes' hibernation. Besides, I noticed earlier that the centipedes' tails are locked to stone stakes at the bottom with bronze chains, so their range of movement is limited. Only people walking close are in danger. They all want to see what's in the Wan Nu King's coffin. Now that we've found the coffin but can't look, nobody can resist." I said even if Fatty could lower himself, he couldn't lift the stone lid of such a huge coffin. You're just letting him make a fool of himself. A Ning said, "He's not going to lift the lid. He's going to wedge the coffin-opening hooks into the gaps of the coffin. We'll hang a pulley on one of the bronze chains above, and then we'll hoist the lid from here."

I felt very uncomfortable. A Ning was still fulfilling her company's work obligations, searching for something in the coffin. Even at this point, she still hadn't given up. Although I didn't know what she was looking for, I felt there was no reason anything should be considered more important than one's own life. And with so many bronze chains above the coffin platform, Wang Zanghai must have anticipated their approach when he designed it. There must be some trick that made him think no defense was needed up there. Fatty, foolishly playing the vanguard, surely wanted to be the first to open the coffin and grab some benefits. I had to stop him.

Just as I was about to signal Fatty to wait, a change had already occurred. Suddenly, I saw Coke, who was standing above Fatty, fall off the chain, instantly landing with a dull thud on the coffin on the platform. He landed headfirst, and his brains splattered immediately.

No one knew what happened to Coke. Fatty was adjusting his bungee position and saw that Coke had jumped faster than him; he was stunned and didn't know what to do. Then suddenly Fatty himself flew up, flailing in the air for a moment, and then plunged straight down. Luckily he had the rope around his waist, which snapped taut just before his head hit the coffin, stopping him. Below his head lay Coke's body.

I nearly fainted from fright. The scene was too bizarre. Was there something on the chain that pushed them off? Thinking that, I shouted to the dumbfounded Panzi, "Flare! Everyone, grab your weapons!"

Everyone immediately snapped out of it. We had no time to worry about Fatty. Panzi fired a flare into the air, and it exploded. Suddenly we saw countless shadows circling above our heads, many of them hanging upside down on the chains, curiously watching us strange intruders into their nest.

So it was those strange birds. They had already started returning to their nests silently, without a sound. I even saw that among the birds flying in the sky, several were carrying something—clearly they had caught prey.

I raised my hand to signal those who were about to fire to absolutely not shoot.

These strange birds were half-blind. In such strong light, they couldn't see us at all, but they were very sensitive to sound. It was because we fired a gun in the front hall that we attracted a huge number of birds from all directions. Clearly, these creatures, living in an underground volcanic crater with no light at all, had long adapted to life in the dark.

But even as I said not to shoot, not to shoot, someone still fired. Not just one shot, but a string of automatic fire. The gunshots were extremely loud in the empty rift, echoing to the sky. Immediately the air above became chaotic, with countless shadows diving down.

I turned angrily to see which bastard had disobeyed the order, but I saw Fatty on the stone platform trying to climb up the rope. He had taken Coke's gun and was now firing nonstop at the coffin below.

I looked closely and saw that at some point, the huge coffin of the Wan Nu King had opened a crack. Three purplish-blue, arm-like things—note, three of them—were extending from inside the coffin, their abnormally long nails clawing through the air, trying to grab Fatty above.