“Oh, this one seems to have some background, and what he said makes sense.” The middle-aged man crouched at the bow of the boat, kneeling on one knee, holding the pole with one hand, pushing it along stroke by stroke. Strangely, though, his pole never touched the water, and he himself wasn’t even out of breath. He continued, “I’ve heard that this whole mountain is actually an ancient tomb. There are quite a few water bandit tunnels of various sizes around here, but this one is the biggest and deepest. As you can see, back then the water probably wasn’t this high—it must have been a dry cave at the time.”

“Oh, looks like you’re an expert too.” Uncle Samuel politely offered him a cigarette. He shook his head and said, “What expert? I just heard it from those who came here before. After hearing it so many times, I can say a few words about it, but that’s all I know. Please don’t call me an expert.”

Peter Clark and Quentin Carter both had their hands on their knives, chatting and laughing with those people. The atmosphere seemed very harmonious, but in reality, everyone was extremely tense. I thought to myself, we have five people and they only have two. If it really came to a fight, we might not lose, but since they dare to make a move, they must have something well prepared.

Just as I was thinking this, suddenly Silent William waved his hand, “Shh, listen! Someone’s talking!” We immediately held our breath, and sure enough, we heard rustling sounds coming from deep within the cave. I tried hard to make out what they were saying, but it was as if I could almost understand, yet not quite. After listening for a while, I turned to ask the middle-aged boatman if this sound was common in the cave, only to find that he was already gone! I looked back again—damn, the old man was gone too.

“Peter Clark, where did they go?” Uncle Samuel shouted anxiously.

“No idea, I didn’t hear any splash,” Peter Clark was panicking too. “As soon as we heard the sound, they just zoned out and disappeared.”

“We’re in trouble. We don’t have corpse scent on us—who knows what might happen!” Uncle Samuel started to fret. “Peter Clark, you fought in Vietnam—have you ever eaten a corpse?”

“You’re kidding, Third Uncle! Back then I was in the kitchen squad, washing dishes every day!” Peter Clark pointed at Quentin Clark. “Fat Kui, didn’t you say your family used to sell human meat buns? You must’ve eaten plenty when you were a kid.”

“Bullshit, I made that up! Besides, those buns were for selling to others. Have you ever seen anyone selling human meat buns and eating them themselves?”

I quickly made a time-out gesture. “The three of you together are over 150 years old—aren’t you ashamed?”

As soon as I finished speaking, the boat suddenly shook. Peter Clark quickly picked up the miner’s lamp and shone it into the water. By the light, we saw a huge shadow swimming past beneath the surface.

Fat Kui was so scared his face turned white. He pointed at the water, his jaw trembling for ages, but he couldn’t get a word out. Uncle Samuel, afraid he’d faint, slapped him hard and scolded, “Useless! What are you stammering for? Even those two little brats didn’t make a sound, and you’ve been with me for so many years—what, have you been eating shit?”

“Oh my god—Third Uncle, that thing is way too big! The few of us probably aren’t even enough for its first bite.” Fat Kui looked at the water, still shaken. He had been sitting on the edge of the boat, but now he’d scooted to the middle, as if afraid something would suddenly leap out and snatch him away.

“Pah!” Uncle Samuel glared at him fiercely. “We’ve got weapons and people here. I, Wu San, have been sifting sand for so many years—what monsters or ghosts haven’t I seen? Stop spouting nonsense.”

Peter Clark was also scared, but for him, it was more shock than fear. In such a narrow space, to see something so huge gliding under the water—no wonder everyone’s brains froze for a moment. Peter Clark looked around and said, “Third Uncle, this cave is really weird. I feel creeped out. Let’s talk about everything after we get out, okay?”

Fat Kui immediately agreed. Honestly, I was eager to get out too, but since I’m Uncle Samuel’s close relative, I had to wait for him to speak before I could say anything.

At this moment, Uncle Samuel actually looked toward Silent William, as if seeking his opinion. With Uncle Samuel’s personality, he never cared about anyone, not even the king of heaven, but now he seemed to be very wary of this guy. I couldn’t help but feel curious and turned to see how he would respond, only to find that he wasn’t even listening to us. The expression that had been as blank as a stone statue was gone, and his eyes were fixed on the water, as if he was intently searching for something.

I wanted to ask Uncle Samuel who this person really was, but it wasn’t the right time, so I quietly asked Peter Clark. Peter Clark shook his head and said he didn’t know, only that this guy was really skilled. He pointed at the man’s hand with his chin and said, “Look at those hands—how many years would it take to train them like that?”

I hadn’t really noticed his hands before, but now that I looked, I realized they were indeed unusual.

His middle and index fingers were especially long. I immediately thought of the ancient skill of the tomb-raiding generals, who used two fingers to probe into tombs. I’d read about it in my grandfather’s notes. The experts among those generals had fingers as steady as Mount Tai and incredibly strong, able to easily dismantle the delicate mechanisms inside tombs. To master such a skill, you had to start training from childhood, and the process must have been excruciating.