Chapter Fifty-One: Battle in the Quicksand

Ghostface Zhang suddenly vaulted upward, his feet pushing against the seventy-five-degree stone wall. With three leaps and two bounds, he landed atop it.

I looked up and cursed inwardly—damn, this rocky platform must be fifteen or sixteen meters high.

Wiping the cold sweat from my brow, I muttered, “Can I even go back?”

Ghostface Zhang snorted, “Then stay here and wait. I'll come fetch you when I’m done—but only if you’re still alive by then.” He scanned his surroundings. “There might be black bears in these mountains. If you’re unlucky and end up as ‘bear scat,’ there’s nothing I can do.”

I cursed quietly. He knew full well I wasn't skilled—just an ordinary antique dealer—yet he dragged me out here and now wants to leave me behind. That’s a death sentence.

Gritting my teeth, I said, “I’d rather go with you guys. Falling to my death sounds better than being eaten by a bear.”

Without a word, Ghostface Zhang tossed down a rope. I grabbed it tightly, and he hauled me up with a powerful yank, nearly smashing me against the stone wall. Despite his thin frame, his strength was shockingly disproportionate. I kicked with my feet, bouncing step by step onto the stone platform. My arms ached, and when I looked, I saw they'd been scraped raw by the rocks.

Mengya saw me safely up and copied Ghostface Zhang’s technique, leaping along the cracks in the stone wall to join us.

In this way, we endured a dozen more leaps across stone walls, finally reaching a platform halfway up the mountain.

I squatted, gasping for breath, nearly fainting. Ghostface Zhang shot me a cold glare and said, “Women really are nothing good.”

He blamed everything on Mengya, just like some ancient misogynist. Mengya, growing impatient, was visibly annoyed.

Ghostface Zhang pulled out a cigarette from his leather pants, lit it, took off his mask, and smoked while surveying the area.

“Let’s go.” He pointed toward the northwest corner, cigarette in mouth, striding off into the darkness. His face, like an anatomical model, looked even more frightening in the night, sending chills down my spine—scarier than Sadako.

“Ma—Master, what are we doing here so late?” I asked.

“Rescuing someone.”

I was stunned. Rescue? Who could possibly be here?

Rustling…

A sudden sound of grass being disturbed broke the silence.

“Get down,” Ghostface Zhang whispered.

I quickly crouched, peering into the clearing ahead, where several figures whispered together.

“Hurry up! Stop wasting time!” One of them kicked another.

Looking closely, I realized it was Iron Crutch Liu and the three workers he'd brought.

“Boss Liu… If we go down there, will we make it back alive?” The three hesitated.

“Damn it,” Iron Crutch Liu cursed, raising his cane. He pulled at the head, and with a rasp, drew out a gleaming awl—the bamboo cane was actually a two-man weapon.

“Boss Liu…”

Before one of the workers could finish, the awl plunged into his chest. He howled, staggered, and collapsed.

Iron Crutch Liu sneered, then delivered a forceful kick, sending the corpse aside. It was as if the body had fallen into a vortex, slowly pulled into the ground.

“So, do I need to trouble myself any further?” Iron Crutch Liu said sinisterly.

“Uh…” The other two were terrified, retreating two steps as Iron Crutch Liu advanced with his weapon.

Smack!

Ghostface Zhang was about to move to help when, from a nearby tree, a black figure flashed like lightning behind Iron Crutch Liu and struck his neck. Caught off guard, Iron Crutch Liu’s head spun and he collapsed.

The two workers, terrified, dropped to their knees, trembling as they kowtowed. “Mercy, Fox Immortal! Spare us, Fox Immortal!”

“Get up.” The figure pointed at Iron Crutch Liu. “Take him away, or you won’t be able to explain yourselves.”

They nodded, picked up Iron Crutch Liu’s weapon, and carried him off. The figure stood unmoving, like a wooden post, until the workers disappeared into the darkness. Then, a cold laugh.

“Come out, stop hiding.”

I was startled. Standing up, I saw—it was the Black Cloak!

“You?!” I blurted.

Black Cloak stared at me, surprised, unable to speak for a moment. Mengya’s reaction was even more intense; cold sweat dotted her brow.

“Who is this?” Ghostface Zhang said coldly. “Here to snatch the prize?”

Black Cloak glanced at Ghostface Zhang, wary, and stepped back.

“You’re Ghostface Zhang, the master of the Three Gates, aren’t you?”

Ghostface Zhang didn’t respond, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it.

“If you really are Ghostface Zhang, let’s work together. This quicksand pit isn’t something you can handle alone.”

Ghostface Zhang snorted at the challenge in Black Cloak’s words.

“If you want to cooperate, show your skills.”

Black Cloak sneered, shaking out her billowing coat and floating instantly to Ghostface Zhang’s side. She reached out to grab his festering face.

Ghostface Zhang turned his head, stepping forward with his left leg and kicking Black Cloak’s knee with his right.

Creak.

Black Cloak dodged, stepping back. Ghostface Zhang’s kick landed on a stone, shattering it.

“Damn, are these two monsters?” I whispered in awe.

No sooner had I spoken than Ghostface Zhang’s right hand lashed out, aiming a palm strike at Black Cloak’s chest—but he withdrew before making contact.

“So, it’s another woman,” Ghostface Zhang said coldly.

Black Cloak laughed, clasping her hands. “Master Zhang, impressive skills. Your reputation is well deserved.”

Ghostface Zhang said nothing, relighting the cigarette he’d just extinguished.

“I don’t like dealing with women, but you’re something else,” he said, exhaling smoke and glancing at me. “Who would’ve thought? The world’s turned upside down.”

I was embarrassed, cursing inwardly. I hadn’t come here by choice—he’d dragged me here, and now he calls me a burden.

“Qiutong, go break off a couple of big branches from that tree,” Ghostface Zhang said coldly.

“With what?”

“Don’t be stupid. With your hands,” he snapped.

I hesitated, but before I could act, Black Cloak walked to the trees, her bandaged hand gripping a branch at least ten centimeters thick.

Crack!

She snapped the thick branch cleanly.

I was quietly impressed—she truly was a tough woman.

Black Cloak repeated the process, stripping several three- or four-meter branches of their leaves, leaving only the thick trunks.

Ghostface Zhang nodded, helping her carry the massive branches over. Each took one, and they began laying them around the quicksand pit.

This tedious work lasted about five minutes. Ghostface Zhang glanced at Black Cloak, and she seemed to understand, nodding in agreement. Together, they pushed the branches into the pit, which sank like they’d been thrust into a swamp, leaving only about ten centimeters exposed.

Ghostface Zhang tried levering the branches upward; Black Cloak did the same. Both shook their heads.

“Looks like it’s thirty or forty meters deep. Without equipment, we can’t get down,” Black Cloak said gravely.

Ghostface Zhang snorted, gripped the two thick branches, and leapt, landing in the center of the quicksand pit, slowly sinking into the sand.