Chapter 212: Snake Swamp Ghost City (Part 2): The Clue

I felt increasingly uneasy. Obviously, there was a hidden door here, and someone had used a cabinet with its bottom removed as a cover to block it. As long as you opened that cabinet, you could see the hidden door behind it. This method wasn't particularly clever, but its advantage was that it was easy to set up and convenient for going in and out.

But how could there be such a structure here? It seemed this sanatorium was not simple—what was this place originally used for? And what was down these concrete steps?

Looking at the key in my hand, it was obvious that the other party had sent me the key to this room number so that I would discover this hidden door. In that case, there should be answers below.

I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead, stepped into the cabinet, and poked my head into the hidden door. Immediately, a strange smell rose from below.

I turned my head to let the strongest smell pass, then after getting used to it, I used my lighter to shine down.

The stairs were deep and winding, obviously quite long, and I didn't know if they led to the second floor or the first.

Looking at the stairs and realizing it was already midnight, I was in a haunted house, and I had discovered this secret passage that had been installed who knows when—naturally, I felt a bit scared. But after all, I was someone who had been down into tombs; in this place, knowing that outside there were streets and hair salons, I felt a little more at ease.

I hesitated only for a moment, then steadied myself. Carefully holding the lighter in one hand, I stooped into the doorway and walked down the stairs.

Since I had already come this far, the thing the other party had guided me to find must be at the bottom of these stairs. I couldn't back out now. Having come to Golmud, naturally I had to see what their purpose really was.

After only a few steps, I felt an indescribable chill coming from the darkness ahead on the stairs, so cold it was a bit terrifying. I breathed out and saw white vapor from my mouth; the temperature down here was indeed very low.

In the light of the lighter, the walls on both sides of the stairs were rough concrete, yellow cement—the military-grade kind from the 1960s. On them you could faintly see some slogans painted in red, now so faded that only a few outlines were distinguishable. At the top of the staircase, hanging wires could be seen, wrapped in cobwebs, looking like snakes.

Compared to the green bricks and tomb tiles of ancient tombs, these things were much more familiar. I kept telling myself that while trying to relax. Even so, I still felt that at the dark turn of the stairs below, something might peek its face out—the creepy feeling was no less than in an ancient tomb.

Soon I finished the first flight. The stairs turned and continued down, and my footsteps echoed, sounding eerie. I gauged the height—I was already at the second floor, the one that had been sealed with cement. But there was no doorway here; the surroundings were still closed cement. Obviously, the exit wasn't here. It seemed it had nothing to do with that second floor, I thought. I took a deep breath of the foul air and went down another level.

Same situation—the exit wasn't on the first floor either. The stairs turned again and continued down, still pitch black with no end in sight.

So below was underground, I thought. At that moment, a thought occurred to me: Could these stairs lead to a basement? Could this be an old underground military bunker? I remembered that in Hangzhou there was a famous 704 Mansion, also built under the guise of a sanatorium, but inside it was deep and mysterious, and it was said there were huge underground structures for emergencies.

But judging from the appearance of the hidden door, it didn't seem like it. That hidden door was just a crude opening; if it were a specially constructed military bunker entrance, there would at least be an iron door, right?

I walked while letting my mind wander, continuing downward. I didn't know if the temperature kept dropping or if it was the feeling of my cold sweat, but I suddenly felt extremely cold, my teeth chattering. Gritting my teeth, I went down one more level. The stairs ended there, with the exit right in front of me. I cautiously stepped out and found that outside seemed to be a very large space.

I raised the lighter and shone it on both sides of the exit. I saw that this was a concrete-reinforced basement, very crude, with moisture rising everywhere. The floor was paved with green bricks, and the space was empty all around.

This definitely wasn't a military bunker, I confirmed in my mind. Judging from the appearance of the cement and the green bricks on the floor, it looked like the kind of cellar that a production brigade in the countryside would haphazardly build. The craftsmanship here was too crude; it couldn't have been built by professional military engineers.

What place was this? Could it really be a cellar? Did Poker-face ask me to come here to check if his pickled cabbage had absorbed the flavor?

I was amused by my own thought, and I walked toward the center of the cellar. After only a few steps, I vaguely saw a huge shadow lying on the ground in the middle of the basement, looking very strange.

I walked toward that shadow and shone the lighter on it. I froze. There, in the center of the cellar, sat a huge, pure black ancient coffin.