Chapter 46: Raging Sea: Arrows

I saw the arrowhead had sunk almost entirely into my body, a sharp pain tore through my chest, and I was panicked beyond belief, still unwilling to accept it—I was so young, hadn't even touched a woman's hand; was I really going to die in some nameless tomb? If I died here, no one would probably collect my corpse for centuries. That kind of end was far too miserable.

The arrows flew like rain, fired by something unknown, too fast to dodge. Fatty used his backpack as a shield and charged right in front of us, blocking several arrows. I looked at his back and gasped—dozens of arrows were stuck in his back, as dense as incense sticks in an incense burner. It looked like he was done for too, but strangely, he didn't seem to be in any pain.

I remembered reading in novels about people being shot full of arrows like a hedgehog, but I'd never seen it for real. Now I had, and under these circumstances. I cursed inwardly. Then suddenly someone grabbed my clothes and yanked me forward. Startled, I turned around and saw it was that A Ning. Her eyes were chillingly cold, and I sensed danger. I tried to shake her off, but she kneed me mercilessly in the lower back without a second thought. That hurt even worse than the two arrows in my chest. My whole body went limp from the pain, and I couldn't muster any strength, slumping down. She dragged me without a word toward the big jade door in the middle. Used as a human shield, I took arrows to my shoulder, belly, and chest all at once, and the pain nearly knocked me out.

They say a woman's heart is the most venomous, and I never believed it before. Who'd have thought a woman could be so vicious? She'd looked like a scared little girl just moments ago, and then in a blink, she used me as a human shield to block the arrow rain.

I wasn't about to be that noble. I twisted with all my strength—she wasn't that strong—and broke free, tumbling into the lamp channel. Seeing her cover lost, she rolled over, dodging over a dozen arrows, and shot me a fierce glare. I thought, Damn, you still have the nerve to glare at me! I yelled and lunged to grab her. She sneered at me, did a quick roll to the wall, then leaped high, kicked off the wall, and flipped to a safe zone in the blink of an eye. The whole movement was lightning-fast and clean.

Seeing she hadn't taken a single arrow, I slammed the ground in anger. She turned her head, looked at me, blew a light, contemptuous kiss, then clicked on her flashlight and swayed her hips into that jade door in the middle.

I was so furious I could spit blood, but there was nothing I could do. I rolled into the lamp channel, listening to the arrows whistling overhead and clanging against the stone walls of the corridor. The storm of arrows lasted a full five minutes before stopping. I turned to look at Fatty—he was practically a pincushion, swaying as if about to fall. I scrambled up to help him, but he waved his hand to say he was fine and asked me, "Xiao Wu, these arrows feel off. They go in deep but don't hurt much. Pull a few out for me and let's see."

I also felt something was wrong. The arrow wounds weren't as bad as I'd imagined. My breathing was still smooth. But then again, I'd never died before, so I didn't know what being shot to death felt like.

Fatty wanted me to pull some out, but I didn't have the nerve. I hesitated in front of him for ages, unable to do it. Then Zhang the Bald gritted his teeth and stood up. He'd been standing behind Fatty, shielded, and hadn't taken a single arrow either. Seeing Fatty like that, he suddenly said, "Don't worry, it's fine."

Fatty and I were both stunned. How had Zhang the Bald's voice changed? And it sounded so familiar. Then he suddenly straightened his body, and with a click, his height grew by a few centimeters. Next, he reached out his hand, put some force into it, and with another click, his hand extended a few inches.

My jaw nearly dropped. Could this be bone shrinking? I'd only read about it in my grandfather's notes—it was one of the basic skills for tomb raiders in ancient times, used to pass through very narrow gaps, like beam holes in the burial chamber or hollow underground spaces. I'd never understood the principle, so I always thought it was a joke. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I'd never have believed such a miraculous skill existed.

(In recent years, I'd heard that some people in the grave-robbing village near Luoyang still used this skill. They dug very small tunnels, shrank their bones to get in, and when police passed by, they mistook the holes for weasel dens. Later, even when they figured out it was a grave tunnel, they couldn't catch the people inside because by the time they dug it open, the raiders had already dug another escape route. Unfortunately, this skill was extremely hard to master—even if you started training as a child, without coordination of all your bones, success was rare.) He took a deep breath, grabbed behind his ear, and pulled off a human-skin mask, revealing his true face. When I saw it, I was nearly dumbstruck. Under that mask was Poker-face! I froze for a second, then a wave of inexplicable anger surged up. He'd been playing us this whole time—he could win an Oscar! I hadn't noticed a thing. Poker-face stretched his arms as if he hadn't moved in ages. Fatty was also speechless, then grabbed him and said, "Brother, what's the meaning of this? Are you just messing with us?"

Poker-face didn't answer. He patted Fatty, made him sit down, grabbed one of the arrows in his back by the head, twisted hard, and pulled it out easily. I leaned in and saw only a faint red mark on Fatty's back—no wound.

I was stunned but also overjoyed, suddenly feeling I might not die after all. I mimicked Poker-face and pulled out one of my arrows. It wasn't hard at all. I drew one out easily and saw it clearly: the arrowhead was ingeniously designed. The moment it hit something, the sharp tip retracted, and a set of claw-like hooks popped out to latch onto your flesh.

Poker-face looked at the arrowheads scattered on the ground and said quietly, "That kick just now—that woman stepped on purpose. It seems she's not only confident in her skills but also wanted to kill us all."

I remembered her blowing me that kiss, clearly mocking me. I was so mad I bit my gums bloody. Pretty women really are untrustworthy. I'd never fall for that again!

Fatty's back was covered in raw skin. He winced and said, "Thank god these arrows here are all lotus-heads. Otherwise, she'd have gotten her way. I've got a fine reputation—if I died shot full of holes like a hedgehog, people would laugh their heads off."

I looked at the strange arrows and asked them, "Why are all the arrows here using this kind of head? What's the point?"

Poker-face said, "I don't know either, but the moment I saw you hit, I recognized them as lotus arrows. I can't think of any other reason—maybe the tomb owner wanted to let us off easy, make us turn back."

That seemed odd to me, but it wasn't the time to discuss it. That woman had already gone into the main burial chamber. I couldn't let that bitch run off with the goods so easily. I was about to charge in when Poker-face grabbed me and shook his head, saying, "That ghost in the jar earlier insisted we go into the left chamber first. There must be a reason. Let's follow the steps. We're on someone else's turf now—don't run around."

I grew anxious. If that woman came out and just ran off, we'd have no idea where to chase her. Fatty said, "No worries. Let's go back and hide all the diving gear. See if she can hold her breath all the way to the surface!"