Chapter 43: Trapped With No Way Out in the Cave

Chapter 43: Cornered, Lost in the Cave

The old woman did not fall. The half of her face that remained twisted grotesquely, unleashing even more agonized screams. Her wails echoed through the cave, her form staggering and contorting as if bereft of all strength. Yet, a cruel glint still flickered in her eyes—a venomous hatred born of hell itself, as if she wished to drag all who dared offend her into endless darkness.

The arrows and axes wielded by the sons of Guo Village, fueled by the rage of losing loved ones to the strange scourge, poured down upon her like a torrential storm. In moments, her body was torn asunder. Even in her final moments, the old woman still swung her claws, desperately seeking to snatch any creature that dared approach.

The battle raged on for a long while, until the malevolent old woman finally collapsed, her body hacked apart by the sons of Guo. She lay in pieces, blood and flesh muddled, sprawled upon black earth, swallowed by an abyss of darkness, leaving only broken fragments of flesh and bone scattered across the ground.

Everyone gasped for breath, slumping to the earth, their eyes filled with terror and exhaustion. The life-or-death struggle had drained them completely, leaving only enough strength to collapse, unable to speak. They sat in silence, as if the reality before them was too much to believe—a nightmare, both in its occurrence and its end.

The cave was saturated with the heavy stench of blood, mingled with the previous reek of decay, creating a nauseating atmosphere. Blood stained their faces and hands—some theirs, some their comrades’, some their enemy’s—marks of their battle with the old woman.

They remained wordless, staring blankly at the scene before them, unable to accept it as truth. The entire ordeal felt like a terrible dream.

Only one or two torches remained alight, crookedly stuck among bones, crackling and sputtering. The darkness around them was vast, deeper than ever, as if countless eyes watched from the shadows, waiting for the next victim.

After a long while, the group slowly regained their senses and strength, counting their numbers only to find more than half had perished. Those left were Zhang Sanlu, whose belly had been cut open; Old Yao, wounded in the chest; Zheng Ji, miraculously unscathed; Guo Qi, injured in the leg; and Guo Dashu, missing an arm. Of the twelve who had entered, only five remained, all bearing wounds. Even the dogs had fallen save for Guo Qi’s wolfhound, Jinbiao. It was a victory paid for in blood.

The most devastated was Guo Dashu. His younger brother had barely survived the opening moments of the fight before a claw tore away his skull, splattering red and white across the ground. Now, cradling his brother’s corpse, Dashu wept uncontrollably.

Zhang Sanlu looked at Guo Wang, who lay with a gaping wound in his chest, thinking of young Hui—such a pitiable girl. Her mother’s mind lost, uncertain if she would recover, and now her father was gone as well.

But the dead are gone, and the living must carry on. The wounded five bound their injuries with medicinal powder and cloth. Zhang Sanlu opened the hem of his Daoist robe and unexpectedly found his wound was not as severe as he’d feared. Though still painful, it was beginning to close.

They finished bandaging and gathered the broken limbs of their fallen comrades, placing the bodies to one side and covering them with clothing—for now, a rough gesture, to retrieve them later.

"Gather up, prepare to leave the cave," Old Yao commanded. No unnecessary words were spoken. The five survivors, including Guo Qi, made their way to the entrance. Some believed they would return; some would boast about their battle against the evil.

Old Yao quickly counted their numbers, then raised his torch and led the way into the passage. After a single step, he suddenly turned and said, "If anything happens inside, everyone must immediately inform each other."

Zhang Sanlu felt a jolt—clearly, Old Yao sensed something unusual, just as he did. This order, issued at any other time, would have been mocked by Guo Qi and the others. What right had Old Yao to command them? But now, no one objected. Once again, Zhang Sanlu followed behind Old Yao, with Zheng Ji behind him, his head caked with dirt and sweat, looking thoroughly terrified.

"What are your plans after we get out? Shall we report this to the authorities?" Zhang Sanlu asked Old Yao quietly.

"Let’s see what the village head and elders decide. First, we bring back the bodies of Guo’s sons. The rest can wait," Old Yao replied in a low voice.

Rounding the first corner, everyone unconsciously quickened their pace. Unlike when they entered, now all they wanted was to leave the cave's darkness and return to the sunlight outside. Though the hour was late, and after the rain, the sun might have already set.

Just one more turn, and soon they would see daylight again.

Yes—daylight again. That was everyone’s hope. After such horror in the dark, the battle was oppressive, bizarre, unbearable.

Suddenly, Zhang Sanlu noticed Old Yao’s steps falter, his pace slowing, forcing those behind to slow as well.

"What’s wrong?" Zhang Sanlu asked.

"How many turns did we make coming in?" Old Yao pressed, voice tense.

"Two," Zhang Sanlu replied, puzzled—Old Yao couldn’t possibly have forgotten.

"Two..." Old Yao swallowed.

"Was it two turns?" Old Yao stopped abruptly, strangely repeating the question, this time to Zheng Ji behind Zhang Sanlu. His voice was urgent, and Zhang Sanlu detected a note of fear rarely heard from Old Yao—even during the battle with the evil.

"Two, Daoist—just said so. We’ve made two turns, one more and we’re out," Zheng Ji replied, eager to leave, unable to understand Old Yao’s concern.

"Did you notice something?" Zhang Sanlu asked Old Yao, his voice grave. Surely, something was amiss. He was walking right behind Old Yao, no more than three feet away, but nothing seemed wrong.

Old Yao didn’t answer, slowly turning his head to look ahead—to where the passage’s exit should be.

"How can this be..." Zheng Ji cried out.

Now Zhang Sanlu saw what was wrong.

There was no light where the exit should be.

Guo Liang and Guo Dashu also tried to look, but the passage was too narrow for all to see at once.

"Why aren’t we at the exit yet?!" Zheng Ji asked, trembling, but no one could answer. The group fell into a deathly silence, the torchlight flickering in the darkness, stretching their shadows long.

Yes—they had passed two bends, the exit should be ahead. Even with rain and the hour late, there should be some sunlight filtering in, at least a faint glow. The passage should have some light, however slight.

But there was none.

Ahead, save for the flicker of torchlight, there was only pitch-black darkness.