Chapter 146: The Dark River Monster

[Page 1 of 3]

“You can’t be serious! You’re sending us to our deaths!”

Several men shouted furiously at Old Yi. Yet they could hardly be blamed. Anyone would be terrified by such a thing. This was where the man-eating scarabs had appeared, and even I had no desire to go inside.

“Don’t you understand? The appearance of these insects follows a pattern. Since they’ve already passed through here, they won’t return for a while. You don’t believe me, do you? Fine, I’ll go in first!”

After saying this, Ismar plunged into the cave, and the other guides hurried after him.

The bald leader of the expedition hesitated for a moment before saying, “Damn it. To hell with it. Come on, brothers—follow them!”

With that, Baldy went in as well. Since the leader had entered, Uncle Ma and I naturally followed.

Only after entering did we realize that the cave had been cut out by human hands. Where it led remained a mystery, but the walls were extremely smooth, and it was clear that the passage descended underground. We could slide forward without having to crawl.

The wisdom of the ancient Egyptians was truly astonishing. No one could have imagined that they had built such an unknown place—a magnificent underground palace, along with guardians to protect it.

The cave was not very long, but it was exceedingly narrow. A single person carrying a pack could just barely squeeze through. By the time we emerged, everyone had been pressed tightly together. Fortunately, no one was injured.

“Holy shit! Where are we?”

“What the hell is this?”

…

I had no idea how many people cried out at that moment, but from the sound of their voices, everyone seemed utterly shaken. I, however, had only just pulled myself up from the ground and had not yet raised my head.

When I finally looked up, I saw three enormous stone walls standing before us, each more than thirty feet high. Every inch of them was covered with incomprehensible ancient Egyptian writing.

Archaeologists could never resist the lure of antiquities. As if drawn forward by an invisible leash, they slowly approached the three walls and brushed away the dust with their hands. One ancient Egyptian character after another emerged before their eyes.

“Rumble…”

The instant one of the archaeologists touched a stone wall, the earth trembled. While everyone stood frozen in confusion, the entire floor beneath us began to sink with a thunderous roar, just as it had when we first entered.

[Page 1 of 3]

[Page 2 of 3]

“This is bad! We’ve never been here before. What do we do?”

As soon as the floor stopped descending, Ismar stared in astonishment at the space ahead and shouted.

He was right. We were in serious trouble. There was no map, no one had ever explored this place, and it lay dozens of feet below the surface. There was no way to climb back up. Several people were so frightened that they began to cry.

I was puzzled by something. I had heard long ago that poisonous air filled every part of the pyramids, yet the air here was exceptionally fresh—fresher even than the air above ground. It also carried a distinct dampness.

“This… this is impossible! Such a vast underground palace is being sustained by an immense water source, and that water source has never run dry? This is a desert! No water could possibly survive here. It’s unbelievable!”

The middle-aged man in front of me walked several steps forward and raised a hand to caress the stone wall before him. His astonished voice revealed something truly astonishing.

Sure enough, we followed him through a doorway. Beyond it lay an underground river, carved out by human hands. The river was roughly thirty feet across, with walkways about six feet wide running along both banks. We had no idea where the passage led.

According to Uncle Ma, the middle-aged man was Liu Fuquan, a geologist and archaeologist of considerable renown in both fields. He was gentle and approachable, and he had once worked with Uncle Ma for some time.

“Look! What’s that?”

An Egyptian guide pointed toward the middle of the underground river and shouted in Egyptian to the team, as though he had seen something horrifying.

I could not understand Egyptian when spoken in full sentences, but I understood that particular phrase. The two men on the plane had taught me such basic expressions—useful knowledge that never went out of date.

Following the guide’s gesture, we focused our beams and cast them across the rushing underground river. Everyone saw that something was wrong. There appeared to be creatures moving beneath the water, and nothing like them had ever been seen on land.

“Splash! Splash-splash!”

“Ah! Help me! Hurry, save me!”

Without warning, a tentacle rose from the river. It was at least forty feet long, and in an instant it seized a full-grown man weighing more than two hundred pounds and dragged him from the bank into the water.

[Page 2 of 3]

[Page 3 of 3]

The man who had been dragged into the underground river was surely doomed. Several splashes of blood bloomed across the surface, and the living man was forcibly pulled beneath the water.

“Quick, retreat! There’s a man-eating monster in here!”

Seeing what had happened, Ismar hurriedly shouted for everyone to get away and retreat through the doorway.

In that short distance of barely fifty feet, the team had indirectly lost two important members—one a guide, the other an archaeologist.

“Damn it! At this rate, we’ll all be dead before we even find the journal. Tell me, what are we supposed to do?”

Baldy, the leader of the expedition, crouched down, spat on the ground, and muttered to himself. Then he clasped his head in both hands and rubbed it back and forth. He looked on the verge of collapse.

“We’ll find another way. They say that where there’s a mountain, there’s always a road around it. Let’s search this place carefully.”

After speaking, Uncle Ma led everyone in feeling their way along the surrounding walls. We circled the area several times but found no exit or hidden mechanism. Many people eventually collapsed onto the ground, utterly dejected.

“Here! There’s a mural here, but I can’t make out what it depicts!”

No one knew who had shouted in the darkness, illuminated by twenty beams of light. Following the voice, we saw a man in his fifties shining a flashlight at a smooth section of wall. Upon it was a primitive mural, devoid of color. The paintings had been buried beneath a thick layer of dust; unless the dust was wiped away, no one would ever know that anything lay hidden beneath it.

…

It has been such a long time since I’ve seen everyone sending flowers and votes. I’m truly heartbroken. Dear friends, your support is what keeps me moving forward. I hope all of you wonderful readers will raise the flowers and votes in your hands and send them to the chosen one. I am deeply grateful!

…

[Page 3 of 3]