Chapter 275: Snake Marsh Ghost City (Part 3) Third Night: Swamp Shadow

Looking more closely, I saw that the mud at the bottom of the pool was being stirred by something, as if a huge thing was moving beneath the silt, churning up the black gas trapped underground. The entire pool bottom was shifting, with an irregular vortex in the mud that sucked the corpses in and then spat them out again.

As the mud churned more violently, increasing amounts of black gas rose from below. By now I had no energy left to feel fear—only my teeth were clenched, my nerves wound to the breaking point. I racked my brain for a way out while keeping a wary eye on what was happening beneath.

This black gas might be toxic vapor produced by the decay of massive amounts of leaves in the swamp rainforest—a kind of gas often trapped under the silt in deep swamps and rainforests, released only during major climatic shifts.

Many parts of tropical rainforests are inaccessible to humans precisely because such poisonous gases block large swaths of terrain. Some toxic gases are formed by special minerals or volcanic emissions mixing with fog to create deadly clouds. Such poisons are extremely potent, and many "death valleys" in the world where even birds cannot fly are formed this way.

If that was the case, this stuff was definitely not good. I had no idea whether it would blind me like the fog we encountered yesterday near the temple.

I thought about whether I could immediately go down and rush back to the ruins, but calculated the distance and time—there was no way. The black gas had already spread under the trees, preventing me from descending. Moreover, if the fog near the temple hadn't dissipated, I might get poisoned and lose my sight again. If I ran into a snake swarm, I'd end up like Fatty, and I'd rather end it myself.

I prayed that the black gas would only spread under the trees and not rise to the canopy, but obviously that was impossible. Slowly, I saw the black gas rolling and filling the entire space as if it were alive.

I cursed under my breath, knowing that if this black gas was poisonous, it might be even worse than blindness. In desperation, I tore a strip from my clothes, scraped a large chunk of black mud from my body, covered my mouth and nose, and made another one for Fatty.

Then, remembering I was up in the tree, I quickly found some vines and tied myself to the branches to keep from falling if I got dizzy from the poison and lost consciousness.

No sooner had I finished than the black gas reached my feet. When it rose, it moved with astonishing speed, like a ghostly black shadow—in an instant it engulfed the branch we were sitting on. I even heard a faint crackling sound from the trees as it passed, and then everything within sight was swallowed by black gas.

The black gas filled the surroundings in an instant. Watching it surge up, I felt like I was trapped in a house on fire. At the same time, I caught a strange smell, and my throat began to itch.

An itchy throat was obviously a bad sign. Instinctively, I held my breath, trying to inhale as little as possible.

A few seconds later, I didn't drop dead immediately, so I breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently the black gas wasn't highly toxic, which gave us a much better chance. Still, how much harm too much inhalation might do was hard to say.

While praying that the black gas would dissipate on its own like the earlier fog, I looked up to see if I could climb higher to where the gas was thinner. But as far as I could see, the entire canopy was already submerged in black gas. In the beam of my mining lamp, I saw that the black gas seemed to consist of solid particles—like smoke, not gas—but when I reached out to touch it, I felt nothing.

What is this thing? I suddenly had a feeling I'd seen this kind of black smoke somewhere before. Where? A vague unease rose in my mind, along with an extremely ominous premonition.

I suddenly thought of Poker-face and silently cursed his ancestors. If he had listened to me earlier, we wouldn't be in such a mess now. Why didn't I insist? If I died here, who would I complain to? Maybe I trusted him too much before, but his recent decisions had been off. I felt like slapping myself.

Still, even if we hadn't come here, I wasn't sure we'd have made it through tonight. Not bringing a gas mask was my mistake. But the gas masks A Ning and the others had were bulky, and the old military ones Fatty and Panzi used were sturdy but too heavy—all inconvenient.

No matter how I thought about it, it was a calamity I couldn't escape.

I kept watching the mud pool, and then I heard a series of deep, muffled sounds of water churning from the swamp below—not noisy, but as if some huge creature was about to emerge from it.

Something unusual must be happening in that swamp to cause such a disturbance. I wondered if the snake eggs inside the corpses had hatched, or if a large snake had come to feed. The water sounds grew louder, as if approaching the tree we were in. I shone my mining lamp and saw, within the black gas, a dark patch as big as a young calf moving continuously—even larger than the snake we had encountered earlier. But I couldn't tell for sure whether it was a snake.

The thick black gas obscured my vision. I couldn't see what was under that dark patch at all. I decided I had no choice but to accept fate, so I steadied my nerves and watched the movement of the dark patch.

Everything below the fog was swamp. The dark patch came from the swamp, so it must not be a land creature. Its shape wasn't like the giant snake we'd seen either—otherwise, with such a size, I would have noticed it earlier. Could it be a huge fish buried in the mud? But what fish in the swamp could grow as big as a young calf? A crocodile? That seemed unlikely. If it were a crocodile, I'd be dead already. In this kind of mire, a calf-sized crocodile would have dragged me in—they never let anything invading their territory go.

While I was thinking, the dark patch suddenly stopped near the spot of my lamp, as if it had noticed the light. Sensing trouble, I immediately moved the light away, turning it back into the canopy to shine on Fatty.

When I did, I saw something was wrong. Fatty's head was drooping, and black blood was flowing from his eyes. Alarmed, I reached out to touch him—he was ice-cold, barely breathing, with more exhalation than inhalation.

I cursed, "Not good!" I didn't know if it was the snake venom acting up or the poison from the black gas. There was no time to worry about that. I straightened Fatty and pinched his philtrum hard, but it had no effect. Feeling nauseous, I realized I'd have to give him CPR.

But Fatty's position was extremely awkward, with no branch behind him to lean on. I had to prop him up with one hand to keep his head upright. However, he was very heavy. I shifted my footing several times, making the branches creak, but I couldn't manage—one hand couldn't support his upper body.

Finally, I simply stepped onto the branch he was sitting on and leaned over him. But in my panic, as soon as I did, I heard a "crack," followed by a sharp snap—the branch he was sitting on broke. I felt the space beneath me give way. Before I even realized what was happening, I tumbled off the tree with Fatty in my arms, falling toward the pool.