Dragon Vein Storyteller

Chapter 3 Human Heart

As soon as the group approached, I could see them clearly. The leader was a burly middle-aged man with a face full of scars, carrying a leg bone in his hand, the fascia on the bone still dripping blood. His eyes were like knives as he scanned the pile of corpses, not picking on the old or weak, nor on us tough guys who banded together, but specifically targeting a lone, thin man.

"Bang."

The leg bone slammed down on the man's head with a dull thud, and he fell straight to the ground, a bloody hole in his head, with red and white fluids spilling onto the ground, mixed with the rotten mud in the pile of corpses, making them indistinguishable.

I didn't move, but I knew perfectly well what was going on: this guy knew how to establish his authority. He took them down with one move, suppressing their momentum and making the rest of them afraid to move. But the way he attacked was no different from a farmer swinging a hoe—all brute force, without any technique whatsoever.

I sighed softly and cleared my throat: "We were all forced into this situation on the same path. Give us a way out."

I'm not trying to be a hero. I just know that these people will come after us sooner or later. Right now, we have a lot of people, and sticking together gives us a glimmer of hope. If we scatter, we'll just be devoured one by one.

"Kid, there's no way out here." The middle-aged man turned around, his eyes sinister. "Hand over your food and drink, and we'll spare your lives."

"Oh? So many people came down, and there really isn't a single path?"

I scanned the cave by the firelight. The corpses were piled up like mountains, but judging from the number of people thrown down in batches, there must be other exits in this cave.

"There is a road," the man grinned, "it just depends on whether you're lucky enough to make it."

"Where?"

"Behind us."

"Let's go." I waved my hand, beckoning Feng the Cripple, Liao the Bald, Sanjin, and Little Chicken to get up.

"Trying to leave?" the man sneered. "You'll have to leave something behind."

The people behind him immediately moved forward, their faces twisted like demons, and the wooden blades and bamboo spears in their hands trembled like flames.

I sneered, "Hmph, you're really something! We didn't want to get involved! But since you've put it this way, we're doing a good deed. Giving us newbies a way to survive is fine too!"

Before he finished speaking, Sanjin had already charged out. He had been tied up, beaten, starved, and frightened all the way, and the anger in his heart had long been simmering. He had no weapon, but dealing with these people in front of him was no different than cutting melons and vegetables.

We tomb raiders may seem cowardly on ordinary days, but when it comes to life-or-death situations, we show no mercy. We'll kill if we can, and cripple if we can.

Sanjin charged forward like a raging bull, punching the man squarely on the top of his head. The man didn't even utter a sound before collapsing to the ground, his brains slowly seeping out of his nostrils.

Feng the Cripple was no less ruthless. With a limp, he charged forward, wielding the half-stick in his hand with incredible speed and ferocity, targeting the weak points.

"Pfft." The wooden stick pierced his stomach, and when it was pulled out, his intestines dragged along the ground. The man knelt on the ground, his mouth agape, unable to utter a sound.

Baldy Liao gripped a rock in his hand, staring at his temple as he smashed it. "Bang, bang, bang." Three blows, three lives lost.

As for the little chick... he's only ten years old, not even as tall as that leg bone, but he's the most ruthless.

He doesn't hit people; he specializes in crawling between people's legs and stabbing them in the most dangerous spots with sharp stones.

"Agh...!" With a bloodcurdling scream, the man clutched his crotch and rolled on the ground. The little chick held a stone dripping with blood, its face expressionless, just like those paper effigies we'd seen in graveyards.

In a short while, the ground was covered with corpses. Some were dead, some were maimed, and the stench of blood mixed with the stench of decay seeped into people's lungs.

"Heroes! Heroes! We were wrong! You may leave!"

The middle-aged man who was leading the group knelt down with a thud, banging his head against a stone with a loud thud. The rest of the men followed suit, kneeling and trembling.

I didn't look at them, I just waved and led my people behind them.

But we had only taken a few steps when a commotion erupted behind us, with cries, shouts, snatching, and beatings.

I turned around.

The same group that had just knelt and begged for mercy pounced on the living, who shared their plight. The firelight distorted their faces, making them appear ferocious and greedy.

I saw her.

A young woman in her early twenties, her cotton-padded coat tattered, her hair disheveled, her face covered in blood. She didn't resist, didn't struggle, letting others take away her last bit of dry food and water. She just looked at me.

That look in my eyes was venomous and cold, like a snake coiling around my neck, tightening its grip.

She doesn't hate the person who stole her.

She hates me.

"Hey fortune teller, what are you looking at?" Crippled Feng patted me on the shoulder.

Why do they hate us?

Feng the Cripple glanced back, his smile chilling: "You've studied your whole life, and you don't even understand this?"

"What?"

"They thought you could save them, but you didn't. To you, not saving them was more hateful than killing them."

He paused, lowering his voice even further, like a block of ice: "That's human nature. Either we die together, or we absolutely cannot... watch others live."

I didn't speak. The firelight behind me grew farther and farther away, the wailing faded, but the resentment lingered in the air like ink, impossible to disperse or erase. My ancestral ability to read the atmosphere told me that it wasn't just one girl's hatred, but the resentment of a whole group. Black, sticky, cold, tangled together, seeping into their very bones. They didn't harm their own people. They hated those who could have saved them but didn't.

After turning past the stone wall, we finally saw the "road" the middle-aged man had mentioned.

A huge pit, more than five meters wide, lay before us. A path could be vaguely seen on the other side, but the bottom of the pit was so dark it sent chills down our spines.

I picked up a stone and threw it down. A dozen seconds later, a muffled thud came: "Thud..." It wasn't as crisp as hitting a stone; it sounded like hitting a lump of fermenting dough, heavy and dull. The sound made my teeth ache, as if countless mouths were buried beneath it, waiting to devour me.

I crouched at the edge of the pit and looked down. There was only blackness. A bottomless blackness that swallowed even light.

Feng the Cripple limped over, glanced down, and cursed, "This is sending people to their deaths."

Baldy Liao touched his bald head, his face ashen: "The bottom... is even more sinister than the top."

Sanjin clenched his fists, remaining silent.

The chick also picked up a stone and threw it down. A dozen seconds later, the same dull thud was heard.

"Mystic," he looked up at me, his eyes filled with fear, but also a stubborn streak, "whether you're going down or not?"

I stared into the darkness, the wind blowing up from the bottom of the pit, carrying the stench of decay and hitting my face. My mind was filled with the image of that girl's eyes from earlier.

I swallowed hard, my voice dry and strained: "Go down. If we don't, we'll die anyway. If we go down, we might live."

The wind carried a chill upwards.

The little chick suddenly pointed, its voice trembling, "Mystic, what...what is that?"

I squinted and looked down in the dim light.

Something is moving on the pit wall.

One, two, three... countless shadows. Like ants, climbing up the stone wall.

My mind went blank, and a chill ran from my feet to the top of my head.

That's not a shadow.

That's a person.

I didn't know it was alive!

It's still dead!