Chapter 411: Stone Shadow: Flower Drum Opera

I had heard a lot in Changsha, and I was instantly stunned. It took several minutes of listening before I was sure that was the case.

I suddenly understood, thinking to myself, damn, could this be Xiao Hua? Xiao Hua trapped in this clump of hair? On second thought, it had to be that way. If there was a monster here that could sing flower-drum opera, I might as well just bang my head against the wall and die. But then, what was that thing knocking under the iron plate just now? And how did Xiao Hua end up like this? Was he hit by something? Did this hair grow out of him, or what? I looked at the iron plate, then at the clump of hair, and decided to leave it for now. I concentrated and waited quietly. That thing seemed to see me, and it also put down the iron hammer and stopped pounding.

As soon as it quieted down, the chill of the entire cave seeped into my bones, and a feeling of desolation instantly set in. It was a bit like the moment you walk out of a dance club. I suddenly found it somewhat amusing, so I just gritted my teeth and held my breath. I waited until that clump of hair slowly walked to the entrance of this stone chamber and stopped.

Huge clumps of hair blocked the cave entrance, giving me goosebumps. I swallowed a mouthful of saliva. Then, I saw a stick extend from the hair, wave in front of me, and then point to one side.

I recognized it as the one Xiao Hua used to scale walls and leap over eaves. I followed the stick and saw it pointing at a depression in the rock wall on one side.

That depression was large, bigger than the others, and there were several of similar size around it. I walked over and saw a strange lump placed inside. It was clearly made of iron. I glanced at the hair, and saw it shake the stick, motioning for me to hurry.

I dug that lump of iron out of the depression and found it extremely heavy. I shook it open and saw it was actually a suit of iron armor.

All the parts were connected with iron plates and fish skin. There was a layer of dried oil on it that could be peeled off like shedding athlete's foot skin. I tore off this skin and found that the inside was quite well preserved.

I looked back at that thing again, and it waved the stick again, seemingly telling me to put it on.

Alright, I thought to myself, things suddenly went from terrifying to very ridiculous.

Studying the iron armor took me quite a while. Fortunately, it wasn't particularly complicated, so I put it on with great effort. The inside was much more corroded than the outside, with rust flakes all over my face and a very strange smell. Moreover, this thing seemed to be completely sealed, without even eye holes.

Everything was pitch black. Just as I was at a loss, I felt a pole poke me from outside the iron armor. I raised my hand with effort and grabbed it. Then it started pulling me along. Walking in the dark, being led by a stick like a blind man, I soon realized I had returned to the passageway and then stepped onto those hairs.

The iron clothes were unexpectedly heavy. Without using all my strength, I couldn't even stand up. I understood that the slow pace was actually unavoidable. Fortunately, this weight represented the thickness of the armor. Chinese people like this kind of solid, substantial feeling.

After entering the passage and stepping onto those hairs, the sensation under my feet was very uncomfortable. However, because I was wearing sturdy iron boots, I felt extra confident with each step.

We walked and stopped, the pace always controlled by the stick ahead. After a full half hour of walking, I felt the sensation of hair under my feet disappear, and I stepped onto stone again. Then I felt gravel appear, and we had returned to the entrance.

The stick was still not satisfied and continued to lead me forward until I crawled out and began to hear birds chirping outside. I realized I had reached the entrance of the cave.

The smell in the air changed subtly—the scent of rock, jungle, and mist. The stick stopped moving forward. I took a breath, wondering if I could take off the iron armor now. At that moment, I heard a few very unpleasant sounds: "Are you stupid or just thick-headed? You made me walk all the way here and back again."

That voice sounded like someone who smoked a whole box of cigars a day. I moistened my throat and found that I could make sounds too. But perhaps due to lung capacity, I answered something that even I couldn't understand.

Then I heard him continue: "Take off the helmet."

I leaned against the cave wall, then exerted all my strength to take off the helmet. A sudden feeling of freshness hit me.

Indeed, I had reached the cave entrance. Outside, a bright moon hung in the night sky, casting a cool silver light on the cliff and the trees growing sideways. The guy from Chengdu hadn't come up yet, but I saw a rope on one side trembling tautly—obviously he was still struggling.

That clump of hair was right opposite me, lying on the ground. It looked like a moldy winter melon, actually a bit funny. I cleared my throat, spat out some phlegm, and only then could I speak clearly. I asked: "What happened to you? How did you end up in this state all of a sudden?"

He said: "Don't ask yet. Help me get rid of this hair. Burn it with a torch."

I had brought a small climbing torch when I came up, which could be used for warmth and signals. It was actually just a large lighter. I took it out, shook it, lit it, and went at him.

I didn't know if it was due to the heat or what, but as soon as the hair got close to the lighter, it all shrank back. Then with a "squeak," it instantly burned away the hair on his chest. Then I started burning other places.

Perhaps it was my perverse pleasure, but after a few burns I found it quite fun. Burning so much hair was satisfying. No wonder Third Uncle used to say that humans have a natural tendency to play with fire, especially after seeing fire can destroy filth, and even the dirtiest things can be burned into charcoal and ashes. I kept burning until his hair-clump form became completely bald. Then I said it was done. He immediately took off his helmet, and his head was covered in sweat. Then, as if emerging from a cocoon, he crawled out of the iron armor from the collar, and I smelled a strong stench of blood. I saw that the inside of the iron armor was actually all stained red with blood.

"It was really tough. To get you back, I carried this lousy thing back and forth all the way." His voice gradually recovered. "Brother, can you be a bit smarter next time?"

I thought to myself, I risked my life to save you, so this can't be blamed on me.

He pulled out a bandage from his bag and took off his clothes. I saw a terrifying wound on his ribs.

"What exactly happened?" I asked. "How did you get hurt so badly? It was just a moment ago."

Xiao Hua poured water from his canteen over the wound and said through gritted teeth: "There's a troublesome thing under that iron plate."

Xiao Hua was severely exhausted, his face pale. He was already thin, and that wound looked even more ferocious.

I helped him stop the bleeding using a powder made from Yunnan Baiyao mixed with other things. He endured the pain and told me what had happened.

The process was more dramatic than I had imagined. Listening to it made me feel a bit stupid myself. He saw the iron plate and immediately noticed something odd about it. Then he tried to lift the iron plate, and at that moment, the sound of metal knocking began from underneath. The sound was irregular, which made him find it very suspicious, as if there was a living thing down there.

At that moment, I started shouting. He felt his throat was uncomfortable, and at the same time he found me a bit annoying (he actually said it outright). So he ignored me and wanted to probe below to see what the situation was. He used his stick to prop up the iron plate, hooked the entrance with the top of his foot, and twisted his body like a snake into that hole. As a result, he found that the structure below was so complex it was incomprehensible. The entire stone chamber below was filled with all kinds of iron chains and gears.

And what made these gears turn seemed to be a water current inside the rock, but where the main shaft was rotating was not visible at the time.

Down there, the metallic knocking sound was deafening. When he lit a small torch to look around, the sound suddenly stopped. Then, he only felt a flash of fierce wind and a sharp pain at his ribs. He immediately flipped over and retreated from the hole. When he looked, he was already so badly injured.

He then realized he couldn't speak. In his panic, he wanted to come back immediately using the same method. But when he walked into the passage, he found that the hair on his side had all stood up, as if attracted by the smell of blood on him.

He couldn't speak, couldn't get out, and the wound on his body kept bleeding. He had no choice but to retreat again to find something to start a fire and use the light to signal me. Unexpectedly, he discovered that kind of iron armor, so he put it on and tried to go back. But when he was only halfway there, all that hair coiled up around him. Fortunately, the iron armor was very sturdy.

Without eye holes, he couldn't see me, only felt my presence along the way. He wanted to touch me, but ended up scaring me half to death. What was more devastating for him was that when he was almost completely exhausted, he heard me actually rush into that iron plate room.

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He knew I would probably repeat the same mistakes, so he had to come back. In the end, not only was he physically exhausted, but he also wasted so much of his blood.

"The air over there might be problematic—it can paralyze our vocal cords," he said. "I need to have some people down below send up gas masks. If my vocal cords get damaged, I won't be able to sing opera anymore, and a lot of girls will be heartbroken."

After hearing this, I felt very annoyed. It really wasn't my responsibility. If there was any misjudgment on my part, it was that I underestimated his abilities. If it had been Poker-face, I probably would have obediently stayed put.

Speaking of which, his personality is actually a bit similar to mine—not very talkative, and you never know what's going on in his head.

"Then what's down there? Something so powerful—is it a zombie?" I asked. "Definitely not. In a place like this, there's no way there's a zombie," he said. "But with a place this eerie, it wouldn't be strange for there to be something eerie. Anyway, we need to be more careful from now on."

I nodded, then thought back to what I'd just said and found it strange. He said those strands of hair reacted because of his blood. But I had cut my hands and feet with bloody wounds too—why didn't the hair react to me? Could it be because I'm more manly, so it doesn't go for that kind of thing? Thinking about it, I looked at my own wounds. One look and I shuddered—I saw that there were still a few scattered strands of hair on my hand.

So I immediately tried to brush them off, but they were stuck and wouldn't come off. Then I tried to pick them off, but suddenly felt a piercing pain. Looking closer, I saw that the hair was actually growing out of my wound.

I tugged at it, and the wound opened slightly. The flesh inside was tangled with the hair, nearly driving me crazy. I immediately looked at my foot. Taking off my sock, I saw that where the tiles had cut me, there were all black bristles.