Chapter 324: Sit Down and Talk

Hearing that, I was stunned. Out of nowhere, Old Man Pan Ma suddenly said that, and I couldn't react in time. But at the same time, my mind jolted, and I felt that the words sounded a bit creepy.

Before I could think it through, Poker-face had already chased after him and grabbed the old man. "You say that—do you know me?" he asked.

Pan Ma looked up at him, his face expressionless, and said nothing. Poker-face immediately took off his shirt, revealing his upper body. "Look, do you recognize me?"

Their black tattoos were incredibly clear, like two qilins charging at each other, and as they stared at each other, the scene was very strange.

They faced off for a moment, but Pan Ma still said nothing. He walked past Poker-face indifferently, completely ignoring him, with no ripple of emotion on his face.

I couldn't describe the feeling at that time; it was very strange. If I had to put it into words, I could only say it felt like I saw two Poker-faces from different timelines, instantly merging and then instantly separating.

"Poker-face has finally met his match," I thought at the time. If the timing weren't so off, I might even have felt a bit of schadenfreude. I'd always believed no one in the world could be more difficult to deal with than Poker-face, but it turns out I was wrong. Sometimes you really need to fight poison with poison, and dullness with dullness.

Poker-face didn't chase after him again. He just stood quietly watching Pan Ma walk away, and in just a few seconds, that strange feeling of temporal dislocation dissipated like smoke.

Agui didn't know what to do, looking at me, then at the departing Pan Ma, then at Poker-face, his expression somewhat frustrated, clearly unable to figure out what this mystery-mongering was all about. Afraid he might get annoyed, I quickly patted him, walked over to Poker-face, and told him to go back and not to worry—since Pan Ma wanted me to go, I would, and I'd come back to tell him as soon as I got the answers.

Poker-face neither agreed nor disagreed. He just nodded, still watching Pan Ma walk away, lost in thought.

For some reason, at that moment, I felt his gaze suddenly become different, as if something was missing. At the same time, I felt I had seen that look somewhere before.

Something must have happened when their eyes met. Pan Ma's reaction was a very strong hint. He must know something, and he definitely knows who Poker-face is—maybe even has some deep connection with him. But judging by his attitude, that connection doesn't seem pleasant at all.

I couldn't wait to chase after him.

Sitting down on the floor with Agui in Pan Ma's dining room once more, I kept turning over Pan Ma's words in my mind, trying to figure out what they meant and how to effectively communicate with someone like Pan Ma.

"The two of you together, sooner or later one of you will get the other killed."

Pan Ma suddenly saying something like that was baffling enough. If he didn't know something, a mountain hunter like him wouldn't play games for no reason. But his attitude was strange, and it was obvious he didn't like Poker-face much. I really couldn't figure out the connection. That line could be something very ordinary, or it could carry some metaphor. I kept telling myself not to overthink—maybe Old Man Pan Ma meant that I was too lousy at fighting and Poker-face too good, so I'd eventually drag him down. But my intuition told me, in context, the one being warned seemed to be me—I was the one who would get killed sooner or later.

But could Poker-face possibly be the one to kill me? If it weren't for him, I'd have been a corpse several times over by now. Even if he wanted to kill me, I'd have to accept it. That logic doesn't hold up at all.

Pan Ma's son brought water for us to wash our faces and bodies. Since Pan Ma's wound was on his back, his son helped him wash while he lit his water pipe and smoked the Yao people's yellow tobacco.

I smelled the smoke and found it a bit similar to the herbal scent on Poker-face—seems those herbs had this ingredient too. I thought maybe I could use that as an opening to ease the atmosphere, but I couldn't find a way to start.

The sky suddenly darkened, as if it would rain again. Guangxi really has too much rain. Pan Ma's daughter-in-law closed the windows and sat down on the floor. Wind blew in through the cracks, cooling things down a lot. Then the old man performed a local greeting to me, and I imitated him and returned it.

Only then could I get a good look at Pan Ma's features. His features were distinct, his face covered in the dark wrinkles typical of mountain folk—a very ordinary face. It was hard to imagine the imposing figure he must have cut as the "divine father" back in the day. Truly, you can't judge a book by its cover. Those features definitely didn't share any lineage with Poker-face, which made me feel a bit relieved.

Agui explained my purpose to him, also saying I was a government official. Pan Ma looked at me and said something, which Agui translated: "The old man says he can probably guess who you really are, and he long expected that one day someone would come asking about this. Ask what you want, then leave quickly and don't bother him."

I was stunned again, feeling like the old man's words carried some implication, as if he had mistaken me for someone else.

But I couldn't clearly figure out what he was mistaken about. As I thought about it, I suddenly realized I shouldn't be dwelling on it right now—best to act like I hadn't noticed. Once there were more clues, I could clarify things later.

I composed myself, sorted out my thoughts, and said to the old man, "I just wanted to ask you about that old archaeological team from back then. I'd like you to tell me about the situation at the time. But before that, I want to know—what did you mean by that sentence earlier? What do you mean, 'one of you will get the other killed'?"

Pan Ma took a long drag on his pipe, then suddenly made a strange expression. He shook his head and said a few words, which Agui translated: "The old man says his meaning is very clear—you don't understand what kind of person your friend really is. Being with him, you'll never come to a good end."

"You know him?" I pressed immediately. "Why do you say that?"

Pan Ma looked at me, paused, and then after a long while said, "I don't recognize his face, but I recognize the smell of death on him."