Chapter 327: Psychological Warfare

My first reaction was a putrid smell, but Pan Ma said no. As an experienced hunter who often deals with meat, he could definitely recognize a putrid smell, and that kind of scent was truly indescribable.

Descriptions of smells are usually based on objects, such as "fragrant like a jasmine flower" or "smelly like a dirty sock." Old Man Pan Ma couldn't describe it, so it must have been a smell he had never encountered before, one so unique that even a similarity couldn't be found.

I wanted to ask him if that smell was "the smell of dead people," but I held back in the end. If he didn't want to talk about this topic, bringing it up midway wouldn't do me any good.

Pan Ma's curiosity grew even stronger, but after that, those people began to be wary of him, and he never had a chance to get close to those boxes again. After returning to the village, that group left quickly and never reappeared. This incident left a deep impression on him. When he went hunting in the mountains, he would always think of that team. What was their purpose in entering the mountains? What were they doing by the lake? What was in those boxes, and where did they come from? At the time, he had a premonition that someone would come asking about this later, but he never expected that we would arrive so late—almost thirty years later.

I asked him about the shape of the lake. He told me it was long, like a curved knife. All around it were stones, some very large, bigger than a person, and some about the size of pebbles. The lake was still there, but due to climate change, the water level had dropped significantly. He had been there three years ago, and the lake was already half its original size.

Hearing this, I fell into deep thought. What was in the boxes was very likely the same kind of iron block we had found in Poker-face's stilted building. If there were over thirty boxes, and they were carried out box by box, the total quantity must have been considerable. It was indeed possible, as Fatty said, that they were fragments of something.

Where did these things come from? Earlier, under limited conditions, Fatty had speculated that there was an ancient tomb in Yangjiao Mountain, but now that I was hearing this, I wondered if they were pulled up from the bottom of that lake. Could they have discovered some large iron object or something at the bottom of the lake, then disassembled it on the spot and carried it out piece by piece?

That seemed unlikely. That would render the thing as scrap metal, and moreover, if that were the case, it wouldn't be packed in boxes as small as shoeboxes.

I couldn't help but become curious as well, and in my heart I already agreed with Fatty's idea. No matter what, I had to go to Yangjiao Mountain and take a look.

Old Man Pan Ma also had a piece of iron block, saying he found it in the mountains, and he considered it priceless. Apparently, after the archaeological team left, Old Man Pan Ma must have done something else. He didn't know that I knew he had this iron block, so he didn't mention it at all, which made me even more certain that he was hiding many things.

However, what he was telling me now shouldn't be lies either. The iron block and the "smell of dead people" were linked to danger. He must have experienced something that connected these three things. In Poker-face's memory, the iron block was a very dangerous thing, and in Old Man Pan Ma's memory, that soldier had also told him the iron block was dangerous. These were consistent.

I pondered how to get him to open up. As for sly tricks, although I was naturally law-abiding, after hanging around with Panzi and Fatty for so long, I could squeeze out a little if needed. At a time like this, I could take advantage of the fact that the old man still didn't know my exact identity, and bluff him.

The trick to bluffing is to make the other person think you basically already know everything, thereby turning the whole conversation from an inquiry into an interrogation.

This was the critical moment. I was silent for a while, formed a rough idea in my mind, and then asked again, "So, when you went back to the lakeside later, how did you discover that iron block?"

This was entirely my guess. Since the iron block was found in the mountains, it was unlikely to be from anywhere else. I took a gamble; after all, if I was wrong, I had nothing to lose.

Old Man Pan Ma froze instantly. I knew I had guessed correctly, but aside from that brief stiffness, he showed no further reaction and just looked at me.

I knew it was time to drop a bombshell, so I continued, "Don't worry, I just want to know about what happened back then. That other matter—I'm not interested in it."

Old Man Pan Ma's expression changed at this. He put down his pipe and asked, "Who are you, really?" I breathed a sigh of relief, almost breaking out in cold sweat. The latter sentence was an additional bet based on the success of my previous guess—the smell of death, the danger of the iron block, the matter of Poker-face. I figured that what made the old man keep a secret must be an incident, one that was very thrilling and likely involved deaths. I could have said, "I won't ask about his death," but since I didn't know how many people died, I opted for a safer approach.

Those with a guilty conscience, unless they knew my background, would inevitably reveal their hand.

I thought to myself that it was time to turn the tables. I immediately put on an inscrutable expression—one I often used when haggling with customers—and said calmly, "You'd better not ask. Just tell me the whole story from beginning to end." Then I reached into my pocket and pulled out a stack of cash. This was originally the fee I had prepared for Pan Ma's information, intending to give two or three hundred, but for visual effect, I took out the whole stack from my pocket and placed it in front of me. "I know some things, but not everything, so don't worry. Just tell the truth, take your money, and afterwards nothing will happen. No one will know we talked here."

Pan Ma looked at me with an unsettled expression. I stared back at him with a very calm but compelling gaze, waiting for him to either blow up or give in.

"How do you know those things?" he asked me. "Tell me, then."

Tsk, I cursed inwardly, thinking this old fox was really stubborn. How could I possibly say that? My expression remained unchanged, but my mind was racing.

That was a split-second reaction. I almost blurted out, "Don't you know that someone was following you?"

No sooner had I spoken than I hadn't yet processed it myself when I saw Pan Ma's expression visibly relax. My heart skipped a beat, and I thought, Damn, I've been found out.

Pan Ma looked at me and said, "Although I don't know who you are, I'm not that senile yet. Don't come looking for me again after you go back. You don't know anything, and I won't tell you." With that, he was about to kick me out.

I quickly replayed the conversation, wondering where I had been caught. Was he sure that no one had followed him? Or was it impossible for anyone to have tailed him under those circumstances? I thought about how to salvage the situation but couldn't come up with a good solution, and I became dejected.

His son came to open the door, meaning to let us out. As the door opened and light streamed in, I was about to stand up when I suddenly noticed that the old man's feet were trembling slightly.

I jerked my head to look at him and found him staring at me. Though his face was as calm as still water, his complexion was terrifyingly bad, clearly indicating extreme tension.

I understood instantly—he was bluffing me too! I immediately turned my rising motion into a stretch, then sat back down and said in a tone that brooked no argument, "Don't be stubborn. I'm dealing with facts. I don't have much patience."

Pan Ma looked at me, and his son looked at me too. I was full of confidence, and I could feel that my expression at that moment was indeed sinister and unfathomable.

After a long standoff, Pan Ma suddenly collapsed. He lowered his head and signaled to his son with his eyes. His son said something to Agui, and Agui was half-pulled, half-dragged out. His son came in and sat in Agui's place. The door was closed again.

Old Man Pan Ma gave me a very deep bow. When he raised his head, he said, "Whoever you are, I hope you'll keep your word. If you want to settle old scores, put it all on me. I was the one who killed all those people. The others just helped me carry the stuff."