Chapter 236: Secret Under the Moss

A Ning said and started to tug at my belt. I got anxious, not knowing what she wanted to do, so I hurriedly covered my pants and shrank back: "What do you think you're doing?"

A Ning said: "Those bugs are a kind of grass tick. Getting bitten by them is troublesome. You and Fatty have been bitten. If you don't want to have to sleep on your stomach from now on, take off your pants quickly. If they crawl into your crotch, your life will be over!"

When I heard that, I really did feel a bit of itching in my sensitive area, but there was no way I could let A Ning handle it for me. I still held onto my pants tightly and said to A Ning: "Then give me the knife, I'll handle it myself!"

"How are you going to see your own butt?" A Ning said.

I thought to myself that even so, I couldn't let you see it. At that moment, Fatty, who was scratching his butt on the side, spoke up: "Stop arguing." With that, he took the knife from A Ning's hand and said to me: "This woman is right. Grass ticks are troublesome. You and I will go over there and handle each other." "Do you know how to handle it?" A Ning asked.

"Isn't it just heating the knife and burning them off? I've been sent to the countryside and herded cattle and sheep—I know that much. You two check yourselves too. With your delicate skin, you're the most attractive to these bugs."

With that, he pointed behind some branches on the other side for me to go over. The rain wasn't as heavy there, but the branches didn't look very sturdy. But at this point, I couldn't worry about that.

When I crawled over and looked back to see that A Ning and the others seemed out of sight, Fatty's face twisted. Trembling, he immediately took off his own pants and said to me: "Quick, quick, quick! I'm about to be crippled by bites!"

I hung the miner's lamp on a branch and took a look. I was dumbfounded. Damn! His thighs and butt were covered in blood blisters the size of peas, some as big as broad beans. Looking more closely, I saw those blood blisters were actually the bellies of the small bugs, full of blood and swollen to transparency.

"How did this happen?" I suddenly felt like vomiting and covered my mouth: "This is too much. How did so many crawl in there?"

"These pants are too small. When I was moving rocks at Devil's City, the crotch split!" He shook his pants: "A big tear. Damn it, at the time I thought it was cooler with the tear, so I never fixed it. I forgot about it when we entered the forest. What a disaster—hurry up! These bugs can suck blood for two or three days straight, swelling to six or seven times their size. Thirty of them can drain a rabbit dry. I'm already anemic; I can't take this."

I picked up the knife, my stomach churning. I didn't know how to cut them off. After gesturing for a while, I was about to pick them off with my hand, but Fatty quickly pulled his butt away and said: "Don't pull at all! They bite into the flesh, their heads burrow into the skin to suck. If you pull, the head will break off inside, just like with snow mites. You have to do as I said: heat the dagger with fire and burn them off!"

I nodded. For a moment I even forgot my own itching. Trembling, I took out my lighter, heated the tip of the dagger red, and then burned off one bug after another that were swollen like balloons. The bugs were sensitive to heat; as soon as I got close, they pulled out their heads. I immediately knocked them down and crushed them with the handle, each squash releasing a big splat of blood. Every time I burned one off, Fatty was in excruciating pain. By the end, his legs were weak and my hands were shaking too.

It took a full half hour, and the rain had let

After finishing, I applied disinfectant to Fatty's wounds, then reluctantly took off my own pants and let him treat me. To be honest, squatting in a horse stance in that situation and having someone examine my rear was extremely embarrassing, but there was no other choice. Fortunately, my bites weren't too bad, and we finished up in about ten minutes. Finally, after checking to make sure not a single one was missed, I breathed a sigh of relief.

After putting my pants back on, we climbed back to the others. We both smiled awkwardly, and Panzi asked how we were doing. I nodded and said it was fine, that we hadn't missed any bites. Then I asked if they had been bitten too.

Panzi and A Ning had only been bitten a few times on their arms, while Poker-face was completely unharmed. "Grass ticks have a very sensitive sense of smell and can detect your blood type. It seems you two are more palatable," A Ning explained.

Remembering what had just happened, I felt a bit embarrassed and changed the subject by asking her, "Why are there so many ticks here? Aren't these things supposed to lurk in the grass? How did they all gather on this tree? Do they suck tree sap too?"

Blood-sucking things are usually in the grass because animals pass by more often. There are almost none on trees.

A Ning shook her head, indicating she didn't understand either. "But since these insects are here, we need to be careful from now on. These are the most annoying blood-sucking insects. Others like mosquitoes and leeches rarely kill their hosts, but these alone can drain a host dry. Last time I worked on a project in Africa, I saw a giraffe die from these things. Its body was covered in bloody bumps—it was terrifying. As soon as we got close, all the grass ticks surged toward us, a dark mass like moving shadows on the ground. Our guide was so frightened he used the fire extinguisher from the car to block them, then we sped away." I thought of Fatty's butt and then A Ning's description, and couldn't help shivering.

As we were talking, I suddenly realized someone was missing. After looking around, I saw that Poker-face was gone.

I asked where he had gone. A Ning pointed with her chin downward, and I saw that Poker-face had somehow climbed down to the plant cover where we had taken shelter earlier. He had his miner's lamp on and was looking at something.

The Snake Swamp Ghost City (Part 2), Chapter 33: Secrets Under the Moss (Part 2) I watched curiously and asked A Ning, "What's he doing down there?"

"I don't know," A Ning said, her expression complicated as she looked at the light from the miner's lamp below. "He went down without a word. When I asked him, he ignored me. I just can't figure out this friend of yours."

I sighed. Ever since that conversation in Devil's City, Poker-face had become even more taciturn. Lately, his face had even frozen, showing no expression at all. I had no idea what was going on in his mind. Maybe, like Zhaduo Zhuoma had said, in his own world, he's always been alone, so there's no need for him to reveal anything.

Looking at the light below, it must have been propped on a branch, swaying in the wind. I was a little worried he might fall, but then I thought—this guy is a professional at disappearing. Could he be taking this chance to slip away alone again? A Ning and the others didn't have experience with him; it was a bit risky... Watching the swaying light, I couldn't even tell if he was still there.

Thinking about it, I became uneasy. So I turned on my miner's lamp and told A Ning I was going down to check. Then, braving the heavy rain, I hugged the tree trunk and carefully descended section by section.

When I reached the spot near the miner's lamp, I looked around and felt a chill in my heart.

He really wasn't there!

Under the plant cover where we had taken shelter, it was completely empty. There was no sign of Poker-face! "Damn it!" I cursed under my breath. "Did he really run off?" I was furious. How could he be like this? Even Fatty would say something before doing something bad. This guy just acts like we don't exist. It's too much.

Burning with anger, I was about to call Fatty and the others down to discuss what to do when suddenly the whole branch moved. Poker-face emerged from the darkness above the plant cover, startling me. I looked up and saw that he had been standing on top of the cover, looking at something.

A false alarm. I let out a long breath. Seeing that I had come down too, he hesitated for a moment, then gestured for me to come up.

I climbed up and saw that he had cut open the surface of the plant cover—a tangle of branches, parasitic vines, ferns, and moss. The moss had been scraped away, and a large number of vines had been cut, revealing something wrapped inside. In the rain, I could see countless tiny grass ticks being washed out of the vines by the water.

I had no idea what Poker-face was looking for in this mess, but I could smell a very unpleasant odor. Just as I leaned in to look, he forcefully tore open a large section of dead vines. In an instant, my eyes stung, and a huge swarm of insects burst out from the opening.

Startled, I retreated quickly, almost falling out of the tree. Fortunately, it was pouring rain, and the grass ticks were instantly washed away by the torrential downpour. I grabbed a branch to steady myself, covered my nose, and leaned in again to see what was tangled inside the cover.

It was the remains of an animal wrapped in a rotting hide. The skin had decayed black, and I couldn't tell what animal it was. Poker-face stuck his dagger into the fur and stirred. The remains had already rotted away; under the skin was just bone. The vines had grown into its body, tangling around the bones, binding the remains tightly to the tree. It was covered in moss, which was why we had mistaken it for a normal plant growth and taken shelter underneath.

"I don't know what animal it is. It's pretty big. Probably died from disease after being bitten by these insects. Before dying, it climbed onto the tree, attracted all the insects around, and was drained dry. After that, the insects lay dormant on the corpse, waiting for the next victim," Poker-face said, frowning.

Hearing this and remembering that we had taken shelter under it, I felt nauseous and said to Poker-face, "Are the grass ticks here that vicious? The corpse has rotted away, and they're still alive?"

Poker-face shook his head, probably indicating he didn't know. Then he looked down at the pile of bones again, thinking of something else. Suddenly, he drew his black-gold ancient knife, cut his palm, and squeezed hard to let blood flow from his wound. Then he gripped my sleeve and smeared the blood on it.

I froze, not realizing what he meant. Then, suddenly, he bent over sharply, stretched out his abnormally long fingers, and thrust his blood-covered hand into the skeleton under the vines.

Suddenly, countless grass ticks swarmed out from inside like a tide. I screamed in fright, and like lightning, at the same time his hand pulled something out from the bones.