Chapter 273: Third Night: Another One

Fatty did not resist; I didn't even see him move. The chill in my heart grew even colder—could he already be dead? The snakes writhed in a mass. I had imagined many ways they might transport a corpse, but I never expected it to be like this. Red snakes of various sizes coiled together, wrapping the body in the center, then shifting to move it forward. Fatty was extremely heavy, but these snakes had still managed to move him here quickly—clearly this method of transport was highly efficient.

After Fatty fell into the pool, the snakes loosened, crawling back ashore one after another and quickly disappearing up the stone wall. I looked at Fatty lying still in the water, feeling at a loss. I didn't know if he was dead or alive. If he was dead, I thought—someone like him, with such a tough life, had died—then I would surely die here sooner or later. If he was alive, then I had to save him, but going there might just mean throwing my own life away.

After thinking it over, no matter what, I had to go check. Fatty and I had been through life-and-death situations together; I couldn't just leave him here without even knowing whether he was dead.

I warily looked around—the snakes seemed to have gone far. I checked the mud on my body, then climbed down again along the vines, cautiously entering the water. I grabbed the rock wall and made my way to Fatty's side. Fatty lay completely still, most of his head submerged in the water. My heart turned cold, and I trembled slightly.

I listened carefully—there was no sound around. Then I approached Fatty and flipped him over. His lower body sank in the water. I touched him and my heart relaxed a little—there was still faint breathing. But I immediately saw the bloody holes on his neck. He had also been bitten by a snake.

The snakes here were incredibly sinister—they all bit the neck. Unless one was immune to snake venom, there was basically no way to handle it; all you could do was wait to die.

But I found it strange. Why had A Ning died just minutes after being bitten once, while Fatty was still breathing? And then I noticed blood on Fatty's body.

I checked—Fatty had no external wounds, so the blood clearly wasn't his. Then I understood: it must have been from fighting the snake. I figured Fatty must have been quick—the snake had just bitten his throat when he cut it dead with his knife, which was why he hadn't died instantly.

Still, even if he wasn't dead yet, he was dying. I looked around and thought to myself: I had to drag him out of this pool first, or the snakes might come back to finish him off.

This was quite difficult. Fortunately, the vines were downstream. I supported Fatty and used the water's buoyancy and current to push him downstream. Unexpectedly, after just two steps I lost control. To avoid being swept into the current, I twisted my body hard, keeping my hand above water. As I passed the vines, I grabbed one and managed to regain control.

With all my might I managed to stand steady in the water. Then I hung Fatty on the vines, securing him with his belt. I climbed up first, intending to pull him up. But after two tugs I realized it was impossible. Though the vines were strong enough, Fatty was just too heavy—my meager strength was insufficient. I looked around and saw a large Y-shaped branch above the one I was standing on. I immediately looped the vine over it to make a pulley, then used my weight and strength combined to lift him.

With just one pull, I bent the upper branch into an arch, and the whole tree issued a spine-chilling sound. I suddenly felt that Fatty was too heavy—ridiculously heavy. With my weight and strength, lifting him shouldn't be this hard. But now it was clearly a struggle. I had carried him on my back before, and he had definitely not been this heavy.

If I survive this time, I'm definitely making him go on a diet, I thought to myself. I continued to exert all my strength, bit by bit, and it took a full half hour to hoist him out of the water little by little. By the time I dragged him onto the branch, my hands were torn raw, and I didn't even have the strength to lift my arms. The branch I was standing on was so bent under the weight of Fatty and me that it was terrifying.

I had no mind to dwell on these things. After a short rest, I thought about how to deal with his venom. Sucking it out was too late. It looked like I'd have to return to camp, dragging him through the forest as best I could. It would be really tough for me alone. But tough as it was, I had to do it—if he died, how could I live with myself?

After resting a bit, I climbed down again, scooped up another handful of mud, and smeared it on Fatty. Then I pulled some vines from around, hastily connected them together to make a dragging frame, intending to lower Fatty from the tree.

When I tried to tie him up, I found Fatty was too fat—it was really hard to secure him. I had to use the vines to tighten a few spots. The vines were thick, and my hands weren't strong enough, so I stood up and used my feet to help pull the knots tight. Probably because I pulled too hard, Fatty suddenly opened his mouth and spewed out a mouthful of green liquid.

The green liquid was extremely foul and stinking. I immediately covered my own mouth, wondering what he had eaten. Then I saw that among the green liquid, there were many tiny red scales mixed in.

I picked up a scale, and my heart sank. I ripped open Fatty's clothes and found his belly was enormous. I pressed it hard—it was as hard as if he had swallowed a steel weight.