Chapter 256: First Night: Escalation

What surprised us was that even when we reached under the tree, what came down from above was still that crackling static, like electromagnetic noise, without any other sound, let alone movement. And listening here, I kept feeling there was more than one source—could this not be the walkie-talkie? After entering this place, no judgment could be certain; I always felt I wasn't grasping the key.

"Those damn snakes are really steady!" Fatty mouthed beside me.

The best-case scenario I imagined was that the snakes would be dumbstruck by our move, unable to react, and we could pass without trouble. But I felt that was too greedy. Though the canopy remained motionless, I already sensed an indescribable restlessness simmering around us—whether it was my imagination or I truly could feel that dangerous aura.

We were already quite close. If these snakes were really that intelligent, yet still made no move, they were clearly very cautious.

This caution we could exploit, because we had nothing. If the snakes suddenly changed their minds and decided to kill us, we wouldn't have even the slightest ability to fight back. This tactic of using the opponent's caution to sneak past was called "stealing a chicken." I used to think you could only play that trick on humans; I never imagined we'd be stealing a chicken from snakes this time. The weasels must be feeling pretty miserable this year.

We stayed quiet, lurking and moving slowly, not daring to speak, not daring any big moves, and even less daring to pause. The sound grew closer and closer; sweat dripped from my face like rain. The clearer the sound became, the harder it was to concentrate.

This feeling made me panicked. Fatty noticed my distress and immediately pinched me to reassure me. I turned to look at him and saw he was also drenched in sweat.

But that pinch helped a lot. Just then, the sound was right above us. We looked up, wary that those things might pounce down directly, while stepping forward to keep moving.

Unconsciously, we sped up a little. We had gone about ten meters like puppets when suddenly the sound from the canopy stopped abruptly. The forest fell silent instantly, and we all shuddered.

In that split second, the three of us froze, but Fatty reacted fastest—he pushed me to run. I couldn't recover in time, stumbled, and fell. As I got up to bolt, something left me utterly dumbfounded.

I heard a rustle from one spot in the canopy nearby, and then a faint voice from above called out, "Who's there?"

We all froze, looking at each other in confusion. What was going on? How could someone be talking?

"Could it be Third Uncle's people?" Panzi suddenly got excited. "Damn, it's not snakes! I was wondering why nothing happened. We were just scaring ourselves." He immediately called up to the tree, "It's me, Big Pan. Who are you?"

There was no sound from above. It was quiet for a long time. We exchanged glances again, and Panzi called out once more, "I'm asking you—who are you?" As he said this, he shone his torch and miner's lamp upward.

As the torchlight went up, the canopy shook, and then that faint voice said again, "Who's there?" This time the tone had changed, as if in great pain. And it was a man's voice.

I felt something was off again, but now there was no way to just walk away. Panzi said, "I'll go up and take a look."

With that, he bit down on the torch and started climbing the tree. Fatty aimed his gun to cover him. I held my knife, keeping watch around us to cover Fatty. Panzi was extremely fast; in a few moves he was halfway up. Then the canopy shook again. Without hesitation, he sped up and charged into the branches. I had no time to check our surroundings and turned my face upward.

I expected to hear Panzi's shout immediately, but suddenly there was no sound. My nerves tensed as I watched Panzi's torch move among the leaves. It didn't seem like there was any sign of a fight.

We froze for a moment. Fatty looked puzzled and turned to me. I thought, looking at me won't help—I don't have X-ray vision. After another moment of stalemate, there was still no movement from Panzi.

This was getting abnormal. Cold sweat broke out. I thought to myself, could this be a snake trap? Had Panzi been instantly killed?

Fatty called out softly, "Big Pan!"

Still no response from above. Fatty cursed under his breath and was about to climb up after him, handing me the gun. Before I could take it, something cold dripped onto both Fatty's face and mine. I touched it—it was blood.

"Damn it!" Fatty lost it. Instead of giving me the gun, he hurled his torch upward into the canopy, then raised the gun and fired.

Three consecutive shots. The huge noise exploded like thunder in the deathly silent forest. The whole canopy shook, and in the flickering firelight, I saw countless snake shadows writhing among the branches.

I was horrified, but it was already too late. Countless red streaks slithered down the tree like lightning. Hundreds of blood-red cockscomb snakes covered the entire trunk, cascading downward, lunging straight at us.

"Holy shit, this is a snake nest!" Fatty roared, firing two more shots into the swarm. But that level of attack was nothing against so many snakes. He grabbed me and yelled, "Run!"

There was no way to worry about Panzi now. My heart ached, knowing it was surely a bad omen. I immediately sprinted back. Behind me, the crackling sound rushed after us like a waterfall.

Following the path we'd come from, we dashed out more than ten meters. Looking back, in this dense jungle, snakes shouldn't be able to move quickly, but these cockscomb snakes were lightning-fast through the vines and weeds. The moment we stopped, they were already there, rearing up in attack postures, about to strike.

So the cockscomb snake king really could fly close to the ground, I thought. We were definitely dead this time. Seeing I still had the torch, Fatty snatched it from me, swung it hard, and drove back the nearest snakes. At the same time, he tossed me the gun and yelled, "Load bullets!"

I scrambled to catch it but missed. The gun hit the ground. As I bent to pick it up, a cockscomb snake shot toward it, making me yank my hand back.

Fatty nearly barfed blood. He charged over, swinging the torch, and drove the snake back with one swipe, then hooked the gun strap with his heel and kicked it to me.

This time I caught it. I immediately opened the breech and started loading bullets. I'd only loaded two when suddenly my neck felt cold. Before I could see what it was, Fatty's torch swept past, the flame roaring past my ear, and smacked the snake away.

At the same time, my hair caught fire. I yelled from the burn. Fatty had already grabbed the gun back and fired two shots one-handed at the snakes closing in, blowing the heads off two of them. But the snakes behind kept advancing, quickly covering the dead ones.

Fatty tried to fire again, but the trigger clicked empty. He cursed, "Son of a bitch! You only loaded two fucking rounds!"

I shot back, "You grabbed it so fast—two rounds is plenty!"

By now we were backed against a huge tree with no room to retreat. Fatty waved the torch futilely, only managing to keep the snakes at bay temporarily. But I knew that if Fatty showed the slightest opening, we were done for.

Just as things got desperate, a burst of sparks exploded from a tree to the side. A fireball whistled through the forest, landed among the snake swarm in front of us, and burst open. The blazing glare was so intense it blinded me. Luckily I reacted fast, or my eyes would have been toast.

"Flare!" I thought in confusion. Before my eyes recovered, another one flew from the distance and landed right at our feet. Squinting, I saw only a white light. My feet felt scorching hot. I touched them—our pants were on fire. We immediately started patting them out.

Flares aren't offensive weapons, but the high temperature when they burn can be used to ignite fuel depots in surprise attacks—their power is immense. If one hit us directly, we'd become medium-rare steaks.

The blinding light lasted fifty seconds before dimming. It took a while for our eyes to open, full of spots. I didn't know if my retinas were damaged. Looking in front of us, most of the cockscomb snakes had been burned to death. The high heat had ignited the bushes and vines at our feet, forming a sea of fire in front of us, filled with the smell of scorched flesh. The remaining cockscomb snakes had all retreated.

All this happened extremely fast, a narrow escape from death. I looked at the scene before me and nearly collapsed.

Fatty patted out the fire on his trouser leg, wondering who had saved us. The bushes beside him shook, and Panzi stumbled out clutching his shoulder, a flare gun in his hand. The moment he saw us, he collapsed to the ground.

I was overjoyed: "You're not dead!" But then I saw Panzi was covered in blood, seemingly gravely injured.

I rushed over to help him up. He struggled to his feet and gasped to us, "Run!"

I was stunned—run from what? Suddenly, from the bushes behind Panzi, a huge dark figure stood up, grabbed Panzi's leg, and in the midst of Panzi's screams, dragged him back into the bushes like lightning.