Chapter 286: Deep Dive

My physical condition is the worst among everyone here; normally I shouldn't move even if beaten to death. Third Uncle knows this, but he still wants me to go down. Obviously it won't be for manual labor—I think he must have his reasons. But smelling the stench from the canal well, I really don't want to go down.

However, that was impossible. Everyone looked at me, partly curious about what was down there, and partly because Black Blind left no room for argument. I couldn't refuse, so I let Black Blind guide me as I descended into the crack.

Probably psychological factors intensified my illusion. Once I got down, I immediately smelled a strong stench of urine, so thick I could barely breathe. Besides, the channel wasn't as easy to navigate as I'd thought—the angle was very steep. Watching Third Uncle descend so steadily, I realized he was using all his strength. I slipped, and my body immediately got covered in mud and moss mixed with urine, making me frown deeply.

Black Blind above me laughed and said, "Sorry, buddy, but urine is good for the skin."

"Damn it, good thing you didn't have them shit here," I cursed.

He chuckled. The people above heard and thought something was wrong, so the rope paused. He immediately signaled them to keep lowering.

Soon it was pitch black all around. Because it was so narrow that I couldn't even lift my head, I couldn't see anything except Black Blind's flashlight. Fortunately we were descending; climbing back up would have been more exhausting.

I saw he still wore his black glasses, so I couldn't help asking, "Can you see with those things on?"

He smiled at me and said, "I see better with them than without."

I didn't know what he meant, but since he didn't want to explain, I didn't ask further.

Going down, we soon reached the opening of the sand and soil crack we had seen from above. Shining a light, we immediately discovered a hidden world inside—a crevice so narrow that only one person could squeeze through sideways. But once inside, you could see that although the crevice was extremely narrow, it was very deep and extended upward, downward, and forward. It felt like a huge mountain had been split in half, and I had crawled into the crack made by the blade.

What surprised me was that the walls of the crevice were full of niches like those in grottoes—indentations hammered into the sand and soil. In each indentation was a ball of dried mud cocoon, stuck with mud and entangled with surrounding roots. The mud had cracked like dried soap.

Looking up, down, left, and right, such indentations were everywhere. As far as the flashlight could reach, they filled the depths of the crevice.

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We squeezed into the crevice. I touched the sand and soil inside and found it was as hard as stone. This must be sedimentary soil, very damp and rich in moisture. Squeezing further in, I soon reached the edge of a mud cocoon. I wanted to touch it, but Heiyanjing shouted at me, stopping me, saying, "Careful, don't touch these mud cocoons." "What's inside these cocoons?" I asked.

"Dead people." He shone his light on one of them, a broken mud cocoon with white bones exposed inside. "Crouch burial. This might have been the most primitive well shaft built by the ancient people here. No stone, just mud-smeared natural fissures. Later it was used as a burial site."

"A burial site? In a place like this?" I wondered.

"Building such a project must have killed many people. These were probably slaves captured from other countries. They died here, couldn't be transported out for burial, so they were buried on the spot. There are plenty like that along the Great Wall." Heiyanjing said, "We're here."

I looked down. The crevice was far from reaching the bottom, but on the stone wall to one side, a huge boulder had split open into another crack, and flashlight beams were flickering inside. Clearly, Third Uncle was in there.

Heiyanjing signaled upward, the rope stopped, and we carefully climbed down. Third Uncle reached out and pulled me inside.

This crevice was extremely narrow, and worst of all, very low—only about half a person's height. I had to stoop to get in. My foot hurt like hell, and as soon as I was inside, I sat down on the ground. Then Heiyanjing also stooped and came in. Looking around, I saw that on both sides of the crack were mud cocoons wrapped in fine roots and dry mud, tucked into hollows and lined up along the walls. I could hear the sound of water flowing beneath the ruins. Looking further in, I realized this crack had opened into another stone-lined well shaft. Apparently, the earthquake had fractured this layer of sand and soil, connecting two deep well shafts, and we had taken a shortcut.

The inside of the well shaft was a mess, also cracked everywhere. Apparently, when the ruins collapsed, countless such cracks formed.

I asked Third Uncle, "Why did you ask me to come down?"

"I want you to see something," he said, gesturing for me to follow him. We crouched and walked a few steps through the low crevice, and he pointed his flashlight at a sandy wall behind some tree roots.

At first, I couldn't see anything there because it was all covered with tree roots stuck to the sandy wall. Only when I got closer did I see a line of characters carved on it, seeming to be a few English letters. Startled, I grabbed Third Uncle's hand to steady the light for a better look. After careful recognition, I let out an "Ah."

Third Uncle said, "Look, isn't this the same as the mark the little brother left in Changbai Mountain?"

I nodded quickly. This was indeed the mark that Poker-face had carved in Changbai Mountain. I cursed inwardly: Could it be that Poker-face had just been here?

"How did you find it?" I asked Third Uncle.

He wiped the mud off his face and said, "Never mind that. Can you be sure this is the little brother's handwriting, not a similar mark carved by someone else?"

I didn't understand what he meant, but nodded to confirm. He immediately waved to Heiyanjing: "Blind man, tell everyone up there to come down. We've found the entrance."

Heiyanjing acknowledged, backed out, and signaled to those above.

I asked Third Uncle what was going on. He said, "Take a closer look at this mark. Do you feel any difference from the one carved in Changbai Mountain?"

"Difference?" I couldn't immediately grasp what Third Uncle meant. I leaned in to look and suddenly noticed the mark had a grayish color.

The mark was carved into sandy soil. This kind of soil is not suitable for carving anything, because although it is hard, it is very brittle. If too little force is used, it won't leave a trace; if too much force, the whole piece of soil may crack. The mark was somewhat complex, obviously carved with great care. The grayish color came from years of oxidation. The gray tone inside the mark was almost the same as the surrounding soil, which meant the mark had been carved here for quite some time.

"No," I said doubtfully. "This is an old mark? Let me look again—"

Third Uncle said, "No need to look. Since the handwriting is the same, that settles it. This was indeed carved by him, but not a few days ago—it was left the last time he was here."