Chapter 247: Vanished

I thought, "Oh no," and quickly looked around, but there was nothing anywhere. My hands and feet went cold, and I wondered what was going on. Out here in the wilderness, could there have been a corpse rising? I quickly called for Fatty and Panzi to come see.

They were both stunned when they saw it. Fatty cursed loudly, "Damn it, who did this?" We all instinctively looked around, a motion we had repeated countless times, completely bewildered.

But all around was silent—no people, no sound of any wild animal. I immediately felt a wave of fear. There couldn't possibly be anyone else in the Queen Mother of the West ancient city, and there were no animal tracks near the sleeping bag. We all knew it was impossible for anything to have moved that corpse. Could it really be a corpse rising?

Recalling that eerie dream from before, my throat went dry. Could it be that the nightmare was coming true?

Fatty and Panzi, having seen much of the world, didn't panic. They immediately crouched down and rummaged through the sleeping bag to see what was going on.

As soon as they opened the sleeping bag, Panzi drew in a sharp breath. Inside the sleeping bag and underneath it were mud traces left by snakes—chaotic marks. Clearly, an enormous number of snakes had been here. He touched them; they were sticky and fresh, indicating they had just been left.

Fatty's face changed dramatically. He exclaimed in shock, "Holy shit, did those snakes take the corpse away?"

Panzi didn't believe it. "Impossible. How could snakes carry such a heavy corpse away?" But his expression also shifted, clearly the traces suggested Fatty was right.

A chill ran down my spine, and I couldn't speak. If this was true, it was too bizarre. I had always had an unusual fear of wild chicken necks (the snakes), partly because of their venom, but more because of the incredible legends surrounding them. In many stories, their behavior was extremely erratic, but what struck me most was their strange methods of revenge. And now they had taken A Ning's corpse away—it was simply mind-boggling.

"Of course one snake can't do it, but don't you see how many there were? They could carry an elephant." Fatty opened the entire sleeping bag. The bottom was covered in snake prints, and the area from the sleeping bag to the water was a muddy mess. The lighting earlier had obscured it.

"But what do these snakes want with a corpse?" Panzi asked again, looking at Fatty. Indeed, A Ning's corpse clearly wasn't edible, and snakes don't have claws. It would be very difficult to open a sleeping bag and transport a corpse. Snakes aren't ants—what would they want with a corpse?

"Then you gotta ask the snakes yourself." Fatty paused and added, "But snakes are very utilitarian. They wouldn't do it just for fun. There must be a reason. Never thought this woman wouldn't get any peace even after death—fits her personality, though."

As I thought about it, my mood grew heavy. Everything that had just happened was disjointed and confusing. It felt terrible. I felt a bit out of control and thought, how could we let snakes bully us? I picked up the miner's lamp and said to them, "It's only been a few minutes since we left and came back. The body must still be around. Let's go look for it."

Before I could stand up, Panzi grabbed me. "Looking for a ghost? There are hundreds of snakes. You're asking for death."

"But she can't just be buried in a snake den."

Fatty grabbed my lamp back. Panzi patted my shoulder. "Third Young Master, you need to come to terms with it. A person is a person when alive; once dead, it's just a thing, a bag of flesh. We can't bring this woman back anymore. This is her own chosen resting place. No need to risk your life for a corpse."

Fatty also said, "Exactly. Dead is dead. Where you die doesn't matter. But if Fatty here kicks the bucket one day, you guys cremate me. Don't let those snakes take me—who knows what they want with a corpse."

Hearing this, I deflated and sat down on the ground, scratching my head, feeling very uncomfortable.

Looking at the traces, Fatty added, "These snakes here are truly sinister. How many snakes would it take to move a corpse? At least a hundred, right? If there are this many just here, how many are in this whole forest? Staying here might not be wise. If they come back, the three of us won't last a few minutes. If we croak and run into A Ning, that bitch will laugh at us again."

"Actually, I don't think we need to be that scared. They didn't bite us while we were asleep," Panzi said. "I've run into plenty of snakes in Vietnam and been bitten two or three times. I know snakes pretty well. Most snakes don't actively attack people. A Ning's case was an accident—she probably disturbed that snake while messing with the waterfall water."

I knew he was just trying to comfort us. Who would believe that? From Panzi's expression, even he didn't believe it. Ordinary snakes are one thing, but that kind of snake looks sinister—not the friendly type.

I put the miner's lamp where I originally intended, staring at the empty sleeping bag with a heavy heart. But Fatty adjusted all my lamps to shine on the water around us, saying we needed to stay alert.

Fatty's actions immediately made me worry about Poker-face. Was he in trouble? If he were inside an ancient tomb, I wouldn't worry, because that's his familiar turf. But as Fatty said, snakes don't care about reason. One bite and you're dead—nothing you can do about it.

We discussed again, but didn't know what to do. We could only keep waiting for Poker-face. We certainly didn't dare sleep tonight. The three of us sat back to back, keeping watch in all directions through the night.

Actually, it wasn't very late. After a while, dawn broke. With the morning light, the oppressive feeling that had lasted all night eased a bit, and we relaxed slightly. But Poker-face still hadn't returned.

We surveyed the swamp again—it wasn't as terrifying as at night. The rain had stopped, so there was no sound of rain, only the sound of flowing water. It was still eerily quiet. The forest in the distance was pitch black, as if daylight had nothing to do with the deep jungle.

With no news of Poker-face, I started to get anxious again. I rarely felt like I might lose someone at any moment, but now I felt that anyone here could die at any time. It was probably because A Ning's death had shattered some of my preconceptions.

Panzi and Fatty were also a bit worried, but not as much as me. Fatty said, at worst he'd be dead, leaving me speechless.

We ate something. Panzi waded back to the canyon mouth, gathered some branches, dried them, and lit a campfire.

I asked what he was doing. He said we had already passed the canyon and knew the basic situation. Several days had passed. If nothing unexpected happened, Third Uncle and the others should reach the canyon mouth soon. Although it had rained a little yesterday, the Gobi had been sun-scorched for days. He didn't know if the surface river still existed, so he wanted to make a signal smoke. First, to mark our position and let Third Uncle know we had entered and our route. Second, to warn Third Uncle to be vigilant.

After speaking, Panzi took out a yellow pill-like thing from his bag and threw it into the charcoal pile. Soon, thick smoke rose. He told me it was a distress signal smoke used at sea. He got it from a comrade still in the army—military-issue for paratroopers. Just a few of these balls could produce smoke for three to four hours.

I said, "Can you tell Third Uncle there are venomous snakes in the canyon?"

Panzi shook his head. Different colored smokes represented different meanings, but they were simple ones. Yellow meant danger ahead, proceed with caution. For more complex communication, he would have to wait until Third Uncle saw the smoke and responded before finding a way to convey more. Third Uncle and the others were at a higher elevation, so they should see it easily. We had to keep an eye on the canyon exit and the cliff walls for any responding signal smoke.

This was indeed a very effective long-distance communication method. Watching the smoke rise into the sky, I felt a bit of security. If Third Uncle arrived and we joined up, things would be much easier. They had a strong team, and at least we could get a full night's sleep.

Panzi added a smoke ball every two hours. After the first one extinguished with no response and Poker-face still not back, we didn't worry. We waited until afternoon. When the second smoke ball was about half burned, Fatty suddenly shouted, "There it is, there it is! A response!"

I had been staring at the sky bored and jumped up immediately. Together with Panzi, I looked toward the cliff. At first I couldn't find it. Fatty yelled, "Over there, over there!"

I turned around a few times before I saw a plume of smoke rising in the distance, drifting up into the sky. The smoke was actually red, and at first glance it looked like a giant cock-headed snake emerging from beneath the distant treetops.

I cheered and instinctively wanted to laugh, but my smile froze halfway. Almost at the same moment as the cheer, I immediately realized something was wrong.

Because the place where the smoke rose wasn't outside the canyon at all—it was in the center of the basin we were in, deep inside this swamp.