He scratched his head and continued, “Then they said we’d arrived, and those people were so happy, then started fiddling with something there, saying it was right underneath us. That night I drank too much, so we found a spot to pitch our tents. As soon as I lay down, I was out cold. But when I woke up, guess what? All those people were gone, all their stuff was still there, the fire hadn’t even gone out. I got scared and started calling out everywhere, but no one answered no matter how long I shouted. I figured something bad had happened. Since they weren’t there anyway, I decided to slip away, so I took off running.”

The old man squinted his eyes, as if recalling some terrifying scene, and said, “I’d only run a few steps when I heard someone calling me. For the first time, I saw a woman from their group waving at me. I was about to curse—how could everyone be gone so early in the morning? Suddenly, I saw a big tree behind her, its branches twisting like claws. When I looked up at the tree, my god, I saw the tree was covered with hanging corpses, packed so tightly their eyeballs were bulging out. I was so scared I peed myself, and I ran for a whole day and night before making it back to the village. I’m telling you, that must have been a tree demon! If I hadn’t grown up eating solid meat, I’d have had my soul snatched by that monster too.”

Uncle Samuel sighed, “So you’re another one who grew up eating solid meat!” Then he waved his hand. Peter Clark understood and tied the old guy up. With him leading the way, we could save ourselves a lot of trouble.

The old man was a hundred times unwilling, but there was nothing he could do. According to him, it would take a whole day to reach the place he mentioned. Quentin Carter led the way, and we quickened our pace, checking the map as we walked, hoping that with the map and the old man’s memory, we could get there before dark. We walked for half a day; at first, we could still chat, but later, all we could see was green everywhere, so much green it made our eyes blur. We kept yawning, just wanting to sleep. Suddenly, the old man stopped walking.

Peter Clark cursed, “What trick are you playing now?”

The old man looked at the bushes to the side, his voice trembling, “What… is… that?”

We turned to look and saw something flashing in the grass—it was a cell phone.

Chapter 9: The Ancient Tomb

The phone must have been dropped not long ago. I picked it up and saw blood on it, which gave me a bad feeling. “Looks like we’re not the only ones here—someone else must be around, and it seems someone’s hurt. This phone definitely didn’t fall from the sky.”

I opened the phone’s contacts and saw only a few numbers, all foreign. There was nothing else on it. Uncle Samuel said, “No matter what, we can’t go looking for them. We need to keep moving.” I looked around, but there were no clues, so we had to keep going. Still, finding something so modern out here in the wilderness felt unbelievable. I asked the old man if anyone else had come into the forest recently besides us.

The old man chuckled, “A group came in two weeks ago, about a dozen people, and they still haven’t come out. This place is dangerous, gentlemen. We can still turn back now.”

“It’s just a monster,” Quentin Carter said. “Let me tell you, our young master here—even thousand-year-old zombies have to bow to him. With him around, no monster or demon is a problem, right?” he asked Silent William. Silent William didn’t react at all, as if he was invisible. Quentin Carter got the cold shoulder and was a bit annoyed, but there was nothing he could do.

We trudged on until it was almost dark. Before four in the afternoon, we finally reached our destination.

We saw a dozen or so nearly intact military tents. These tents were of excellent quality; though now covered in rotting leaves, inside they were still very dry and clean. There were plenty of daily necessities inside. We rummaged around and found lots of scattered equipment, but no bodies. The old man probably hadn’t lied.

We even found a generator and a few barrels of gasoline. The engine was wrapped in oilcloth, but most of its parts were so rotten they were useless. Fat Kui tried to start it, but there was no response at all, though the gasoline was still good. I checked and found that all the labels had been torn off everything, even the logos on the tents and their backpacks were gone. Strange—seemed like these people didn’t want anyone to know where they came from.

We made a fire in the camp and had a simple dinner. The old man kept eating while nervously watching the surroundings, afraid a monster would suddenly jump out and hang him too. The compressed food tasted awful; I barely drank a few sips of water.

Silent William ate while looking at the map. He pointed to a spot on the map marked with a fox demon’s face. “We’re definitely here now.”

We all crowded around. He continued, “This is the sacrificial site. Below should be the sacrificial altar. The sacrificial burial might be right underneath.”

Uncle Samuel squatted down, grabbed a handful of soil, and sniffed it under his nose. He shook his head, walked a few steps, grabbed another handful, and said, “It’s buried too deep. We’ll have to dig a few shovelfuls to see.”