Chapter Sixty-Four: The Living Mechanism

Grimace Zhang carefully adjusted the little paper boat, setting it afloat on the water. We all stared intently at the tiny vessel drifting in the stream. It floated gently, untouched by the ripples, remaining precisely where it had been placed.

Grimace Zhang frowned, scooping the boat out of the water. Mengya sighed deeply, taking up her pen and marking an X after “countercurrent in the water,” thus rejecting her own hypothesis.

Both our theories had been dismissed without any argument; together, we turned our gaze to Grimace Zhang. He took Mengya’s black marker and scribbled two words: “Wall.”

“Wall?” I looked around at the surrounding walls, covered in bizarre moss, perplexed. “Is there something odd about them?”

Grimace Zhang nodded. “Yes, I believe there’s something suspicious about these walls.” As he spoke, he scraped at the moss, but it didn’t budge—it looked as though it had been painted on.

I was taken aback. This was far too strange. Everyone knows that moss on mountain rocks is fragile; a simple scrape removes it easily. Yet here, even a fingernail couldn’t shift it. There was definitely something peculiar at play.

Grimace Zhang lifted his foot, drew a sharp dagger from his boot, and pried at the cracks in the rock. A piece broke off under the blade. He sat on the boat’s deck, scrutinized the chunk, and scraped at its moss. Still, the moss stayed intact.

He studied the stone for a long while, then nodded as if coming to an understanding, slowly uttering, “This green isn’t moss at all.”

“Huh? Then what is it?”

Grimace Zhang sneered, “This green is simply the stone’s pattern.”

What? The stone’s pattern? Earlier, Kaleidoscope had clearly stated that the landscape of the Heavenly Pool belonged to the second Cretaceous period. How could green patterns mix with the gray-brown rocks here? That meant these two slopes had been artificially constructed, concealing mechanisms beyond our comprehension. A shudder of terror seized me. If someone had died here already, it meant the builders never intended for us to leave alive.

“So what do you think is wrong with the walls?” Mengya asked anxiously.

Grimace Zhang shook his head, helpless. “I haven’t figured it out yet, but something special has definitely been done to this place.” He picked up the stone again, took a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it.

I thought to myself, this guy really has nerves of steel. We’re about to die here, and he’s got the leisure to smoke? I truly admired his composure.

Screech…!

A shrill, grating noise came from somewhere, unbearably unpleasant.

“What was that?” I jumped in fright, asking anxiously.

Grimace Zhang waved his hand, glanced at the stone in his grip, took a deep drag from his cigarette, and slowly blew smoke onto it.

A chilling scene unfolded. The stone suddenly sprouted thin, insect-like legs from underneath, arched its body, and stood up—like a spider made of stone, eerily strange.

Grimace Zhang was caught off guard, but his reflexes were swift; he crushed the odd spider until bubbles rose, then rinsed his hand in the water, sighing deeply. “Fate isn’t done with me yet.” He picked up the pen and drew a checkmark after “wall,” looking rather pleased.

“So what do we do now?” I glanced at Grimace Zhang.

He pointed at the wall. “Don’t you understand?”

His face bore a smug expression, which irritated me. I snapped, “No!”

Grimace Zhang took another deep drag from his cigarette, exhaled smoke onto the mountain wall. Instantly, a chorus of “screeching” arose from the wall, sharp and uneven, echoing through the mountain path and grating on the nerves.

“Damn!” I cursed. “You’ve activated everything on this wall! How are we supposed to get out alive? Just by their sheer numbers, even if they don’t attack us, burying us alive would be easy!”

Grimace Zhang sneered, “If I hadn’t done this, we’d die here anyway. Better to be killed by these things than starve to death—it’s a quicker end.”

I thought, whether you’ve had enough of life or not, I certainly haven’t. Dragging someone down with you at the end—what a way to go. I sighed heavily; if disaster is coming, you can’t dodge it. Resigned, I spat twice into my palms, preparing for a desperate fight against the swarm of spiders.

On the wall, the “stone-pattern spiders” came in all sizes—some as small as grapes, others as large as basketballs, resembling bricks, their appearance deeply unsettling. The creatures, agitated by Grimace Zhang’s smoke, became restless: some waved their limbs, some emitted constant screeching, and a few, perhaps weaker, dropped off the wall, struggling briefly before sinking into the lake. Others landed on the boat’s deck, where Grimace Zhang stomped them to pulp, releasing a mix of red and green fluid, making my scalp crawl and nearly causing me to retch.

In the midst of this standoff, suddenly, two basketball-sized spiders leaped from the wall with shrill cries. I was so terrified I froze, utterly at a loss.

Thud, thud…!

Grimace Zhang shoved me aside, darted forward, and delivered two hard punches and a flying kick to the spiders’ swollen bellies. The force shattered their stone-like bodies, splattering their fluids all over me, and their mangled limbs flew into the water.

I thought, his physical attacks are superhuman—but who knows how long he can keep this up? Just then, a chilling screech came from behind me. Turning, I nearly fainted.

A stone-pattern spider, thirty centimeters across, crouched behind me, its limbs raised menacingly.

“Move!” Mengya yanked me aside, delivering a spinning karate kick to the spider’s head. With a shriek, it was knocked into the lake and sank beneath the surface.

These two “martial arts experts” now battled amid the spider swarm. Though their physical prowess was extraordinary, it was no lasting solution. Looking around at the overwhelming numbers of stone-pattern spiders, I muttered inwardly: this isn’t good. No matter how strong Grimace Zhang and Mengya are, they’re no match for the “spider army” tactic.

“It’s no use, there are too many,” Mengya retreated two steps, panting heavily.

I nodded, lowering my head in thought. Was there really no other way?

Grimace Zhang, exhausted from his efforts, was nearly spent, yet the spiders’ numbers seemed undiminished. He waved his hand, gasping, “It’s useless, we’re out of options.”

I groaned inwardly, thinking Grimace Zhang must be the person I’ve cursed most in my twenty-some years. If you knew it wouldn’t work, why show off? What’s all this about Grimace Zhang of the Nine Gates of Beijing? What have you lot been doing all these years? Just a bunch of fools blundering around like madmen. This isn’t some martial arts novel adventure. And they say the Nine Gates of Changsha aren’t as good as the Nine Gates of Beijing—look at their skills! “Master Zhang probes the sentry’s coffin single-handedly,” “Master Wu explores the blood corpse tomb at night.” And us? We’ve been like defeated generals all the way: “The assistant dies to the nine-headed bird,” “The water tornado scares Master Zhang silly.” Truly, it’s like the old saying: “Don’t believe the advertisements, believe the results.” I sighed inwardly, feeling I’d chosen the wrong team. No wonder Jun switched allegiance to the Nine Gates of Changsha; had he stayed with this disastrous group, who knows how many times he’d have died already.