Chapter 276: Snake Marsh Ghost City (Part 3) Third Night: Ghost Sound Again

For an instant I was scared half to death, but before I could react, we were yanked by the vines on our bodies, spun twice in the air, and fell face-first into the water below.

I was battered and dizzy; the moment I hit the water I practically slapped in flat, feeling as if someone had thrown a water-filled hot water bottle at me hard. Luckily the water was icy cold, or else that hit would have knocked the wind out of me.

I floundered a few times and surfaced again, then hurriedly looked for Fatty, thinking to myself that this was bad—this pool was the place with the thickest black gas, and Fatty was already in that state, plus he'd been half-killed by the fall. Drinking a few more mouthfuls of water here would be certain death, and on top of that, that black shadow just now—who knew what it was? If it was some swamp monster, I'd be done for too.

I was tied up with vines, unable to move freely. Even if Fatty could hold on, I had no way to move him back up into the tree. Moreover, although I didn't know why the black gas didn't seem to affect me strongly when I was in the tree, in such a high concentration, whether I could hold out myself was still a question.

But as soon as I stuck my head out of the water, I realized something was wrong. First, the black gas all around blocked most of the light, making visibility even lower than in fog. Second, the entire swamp was churning with muddy water, completely turbid, and I couldn't see the bottom at all—I had no idea where Fatty was.

I listened all around—there was nothing but the sound of bubbles, and I clearly felt the current had become much swifter; I couldn't steady myself. I wondered about it, then carefully sensed it and realized it wasn't just the current—the vine on me had originally been wound around a branch, but now that tree limb as thick as a man had been washed downstream by the current, and all the pulling force was suddenly on the vine, dragging me downstream.

People who have never swum in a natural river wouldn't understand this feeling. Water is a very heavy thing; even with a slow current, it's extremely difficult to hold your position in it, let alone when such a large object is pulling me ahead. In the brief time I looked around, I had already been carried several meters forward, stumbling along with the current.

At this point I became even more anxious. I couldn't see clearly around me any longer; ahead there was definitely a well opening, though I didn't know how big it was. If that branch swept into the well, the pulling force might yank me down in an instant, and I wouldn't have any strength to resist. And that beast-mouth-like ruin was not far away—this whole process definitely wouldn't take long. At this moment, forget about finding Fatty or being careful of that black shadow; even keeping a whole corpse would be good enough!

Thinking this, I immediately took a deep breath, dived underwater, and tried to untie the vine. But the vine was pulled extremely tight by the enormous force, making it impossible to untie. I reached for my dagger only to find I hadn't brought it at all.

I thought, "It's over," then remembered that Fatty always carries his weapon, so he must have one. I went looking for Fatty. I floundered forward with the current—he also had vines on him—and I felt around in the water.

Underwater was all mud and slurry; groping around, I kept touching dead bodies lying around, almost nothing else. But Fatty is big; he couldn't have drifted further than me. I fought against the water's push and finally felt another taut vine. I grabbed it and moved closer, then suddenly saw, two or three meters ahead, a black shadow floating on the water's surface, hazy and indistinct—I couldn't make out what it was at all.

My skin crawled. Looking at how that shadow was floating, I knew it was the strange underwater shadow I had just seen. I had an ominous feeling—the end of the vine was that shadow, and I thought, could Fatty have already been eaten by it?

The water was only a little over two meters deep; the black shadow rose high above the surface, clearly not a fish. What was it? I tugged at the vine, hesitating on what to do, when I saw the shadow shudder, suddenly change shape, and disappear underwater. Then the vine in my hand went slack.

I knew it was bad—it had spotted me. Just as I was about to turn, a huge splash of muddy water erupted from the swamp, and I saw a pair of large pincers come lightning-fast at my neck.

"Son of a bitch!" I cursed loudly, thinking what the hell was this thing, but it was too close to dodge. Just as the huge pincer was about to clamp onto my neck, the force on my waist suddenly tightened, and I was jerked away by the vine, dodging it. I was about to say "God bless," but then I felt the force on my waist become extremely fierce. I looked back and saw that I had been pulled near the ruins; the beast-faced stone carving was right behind me, its huge mouth open, and the vine had already fallen into its mouth, from which I could hear the roaring sound of water.

I knew that the branch pulling me had already fallen into the well. I thought: God, are you messing with me? I immediately grabbed onto a rock on one side, let out a roar, and steadied myself, feeling like my waist was almost being snapped. In that split second, water splashed behind me—that thing was coming again. My mind panicked, my hand slipped, and I passed through the beast's mouth in an instant. Everything went dark, there was nothing under me, and I fell as well.

In that instant, all sounds around me disappeared. The miner's lamp on my waist spun with my tumbling body, cutting through the surrounding darkness. I cartwheeled through the air and caught a glimpse of the well wall, carved with grooves by the flowing water, and the muddy spray all around. But the fall didn't last long—my back hit something, and my whole body jarred, almost making me vomit blood. Before I could recover, there was nothing under me again, I flipped another somersault, and then my shoulder hit something. The well shaft wasn't vertical; it seemed to have a slope, covered with protrusions like rounded steps worn smooth by water. I rolled and tumbled all the way down.

After three or four times, I was completely dazed. It wasn't until I fell into water and swallowed more than a dozen mouthfuls of muddy water that I struggled to surface and found myself in a narrow well shaft, caught in an extremely swift current, hurtling at high speed toward some place.

It was pitch black all around; the violent roar of the water told me how narrow it was. I could touch the walls of the shaft all around but couldn't grab hold of anything. Fortunately, I had tied the miner's lamp to my waist, but in such a fast current, any slight movement would completely disorient me, and the backflow bouncing off the walls could even flip me head over heels. So I didn't dare to move rashly, just tried to maintain my position. Before long, I heard an even more violent water sound from ahead—it was like the roar of a water dragon, deafening. My heart jumped, and I thought, "Holy crap! Another drop for sure," but before the thought even finished, the ground under me disappeared, and I tumbled through another dozen somersaults, only to find myself falling into a hollow space. By then the current slowed, and I could control my body.

I immediately pulled out the miner's lamp and shone it around, finding that this was an underground reservoir. Huge streams of water poured down from shaft openings in the walls, like looking at the spillway of a dam. Water splashed everywhere, the noise was deafening. I suddenly felt like a cockroach that had been flushed down a toilet, now carried from the sewage pipe into a septic tank.

I floundered a few times and noticed the current was still slowly flowing in one direction. I swam over and shone the lamp, and saw another beast head on the well wall, with water still flowing into its mouth

A branch I was holding got stuck as well, and there was something hanging on it. Shining my light closer, I saw it was actually Fatty—he had been washed down too.

After returning from Hainan, my swimming skills had improved by leaps and bounds, so moving in the water didn't feel too difficult. I splashed a few times and swam toward the pile of dead branches, then climbed up the edge. I saw that the vines on Fatty were caught in the tangled branches outside the pile, which kept him from sinking. The roaring water was already much farther away, and my ears could finally hear things.

I dove under the branches and came up on Fatty's side. I saw his face was completely blue, his breath weak, his pulse almost untraceable. I dove again, hugged his legs and propped them on the dead branches, then used my shoulder to press his stomach. After a few presses, he vomited a lump of muddy water. Then I used my elbow to massage his chest. Choked by the water, Fatty reacted and started coughing.

My heart rejoiced, thinking that if there's a reaction, there's hope. I pressed hard again but soon ran out of strength. I surfaced to catch my breath, thinking: This won't do; if I don't give him CPR, Fatty is definitely dead. I have to drag him completely out of the water and lay him flat on the branches.

To get Fatty up, I had to go up first, so I started climbing the pile of dead branches. Unfortunately, the branches at the edge didn't have enough support; as soon as I stepped up, the whole branch was pressed into the water, with the risk of tipping over. If it tipped over, Fatty would be pushed underwater, which would be like me killing him. Moreover, most of the branches were thorny—any slightly rough movement would hit the spikes, making me cry from pain. The inner branches were already rotten and soft, completely unable to bear weight.

In those few minutes, I don't know how many times I climbed—every time I took two or three steps, the branch would break and I'd slide back down. Finally I despaired, realizing that with my own strength, there was absolutely no way to climb up from that spot. The pile looked as solid as a mountain, but was actually extremely fragile and couldn't hold anyone. It was less than half a meter to get out of the water, but that half meter was like a ten-thousand-yard chasm; I couldn't cross it no matter what.

This feeling of despair was too strong. If it had been a cliff in front of me, I might have accepted it, but it had to be these branches. Suddenly I felt like heaven was playing tricks on me.

I climbed a few more times, my hands all cut up, and realized that brute force definitely wouldn't work. So I propped up Fatty, used his dagger to cut the vines, and with the branch pile I moved sideways, looking for an easier spot to climb on the rock wall, preferably somewhere I could grip.

There was no way to go against the current here. I propped Fatty with effort and circled around the protruding, like thorny branches. Suddenly I saw on the other side of the rock wall a dry well opening—probably it was blocked somewhere so no water rushed out. Looking closer, there were quite a few such well openings, but they were all high up; only this one I could reach.

I was overjoyed, so I moved closer, first propped Fatty off to the side, then grabbed the crevices of the rock and climbed up. Halfway up, I knew there was a way in, and I couldn't help laughing out loud. Then I gritted my teeth and prepared to go for it in one go.

Just then, Fatty, who was off to the side, suddenly moved and said a sentence: "There's no time left!"

I was startled and turned to look, but saw that Fatty hadn't moved at all and had no expression. I found it strange and rubbed my temples, thinking to myself, "Damn it, I'm having auditory hallucinations again." Suddenly, another clear human voice emerged from behind Fatty. The voice said: "There's no time left."