Chapter Seventy-Four: Ascension

After hearing Ghost-face Zhang’s answer, Kaleidoscope wore an awkward expression. This fellow, among the Nine Gates, was only responsible for prospecting and appraisal work. He had never learned any grave-robbing skills or martial arts. His “general’s belly” made him even clumsier than the average person. In past expeditions, he was always placed at the very end of the team, surrounded by companions to ensure his safety. Yet this time, the very first trial of the Heavenly Pool Water Duel involved high-altitude work—a challenge that, for him, was truly beyond his limits.

Ghost-face Zhang, noticing his hesitation, snorted coldly, “Kaleidoscope, you don’t have to go. We’ll leave you here by yourself. But if something strange shows up and takes care of you, don’t blame us.” With that, he ignored him.

“Third Brother, please, don’t do this,” Kaleidoscope quickly waved his hands. “I want to go with you, but look at me—climbing up there is simply impossible. Do you have any good ideas?”

Ghost-face Zhang turned, casting a sidelong, disdainful glance at Kaleidoscope before snorting again. He turned to Dragon King and said, “Old Seven, if you and the guys support him, getting across the bridge shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“This...” Dragon King hesitated, glancing at Kaleidoscope’s hefty belly, clearly unsure. “Third Brother, I think it should be fine...”

“Should be? Old Seven, are you confident or not?” Kaleidoscope asked in terror.

Dragon King kept silent, lowering his head. Kaleidoscope asked again. After a moment, Dragon King sighed, looked at Ghost-face Zhang, and said, “Third Brother, you’re the most agile among us. Taking Sixth Brother along shouldn’t be a problem, right? Maybe you could do us the favor?”

Ghost-face Zhang snorted, “You think it’s appropriate for me to carry him?”

That comment rendered Dragon King and Kaleidoscope speechless. After a long pause, Dragon King nodded, “Third Brother, I misspoke.” He beckoned to a companion. “Fifth, you carry Sixth Lord on your back. I’ll support you both from behind.”

The one called Fifth looked troubled. He glanced at Kaleidoscope, scratched his head, and forced a smile. “Sixth Lord, you’ll have to bear with it and hold your breath a bit. Otherwise, with my ability, I’m afraid—”

He didn’t finish, but I knew what he meant: we’d all end up dead in the water. He stopped short for fear of jinxing us.

With Kaleidoscope’s problem settled, I looked at the bridge constructed atop the cave’s stalactites, my palms sweating. For someone like me—a mere antique dealer—this task was impossibly difficult, a challenge I could never hope to complete. I was about to discuss a plan with Ghost-face Zhang for how I could get across, but before I could speak, both the Black Cloak and Mengya stepped in front of me, their arms brushing together. Startled, the two women exchanged a glance; Mengya frowned, visibly displeased but said nothing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Black Cloak asked coldly.

Mengya sneered, “What, do you plan to pick a fight?”

Black Cloak returned the sneer. “How amusing. It’s not as if there’s anything good to fight over. I just don’t want your incompetence to get my husband killed.”

“Your husband?” Mengya’s face twisted into a grim smile.

“What, you object? Let me warn you, know your place. You’re just a bodyguard, nothing more. Don’t think that solving a problem or two will win you Qiu Tong’s heart.”

A chill of fear gripped me—far worse than the prospect of crossing the bridge or facing the eellike dragons in the water. Black Cloak’s words were vicious, implying Mengya was little better than a harlot—a far greater insult than cursing someone’s ancestors.

Sure enough, before Black Cloak’s words had fully landed, Mengya couldn’t contain herself. She sprang up and delivered a slap toward Black Cloak. Black Cloak simply sneered, dodged swiftly, and from under her cloak, a bandaged hand shot out like an eagle’s talon, aiming for Mengya’s wrist.

“Enough!”

Just as Black Cloak’s claw was about to seize Mengya, Ghost-face Zhang lunged forward, blocking Mengya, and jabbed his long finger at Black Cloak’s chest.

Sensing danger, Black Cloak withdrew and retreated two steps, evading the strike.

“We’re all on the same side—why such a temper? Why not just follow the example of ancient times, when Emperor Shun had two wives serving him together?” Ghost-face Zhang said with mocking sarcasm.

I cursed silently. This wasn’t ancient times, and even then, there were distinctions between wives and concubines. I’m not Emperor Shun, with two women serving me at once! Ghost-face Zhang always seemed to have it in for me—every time, he’d stir the pot, leaving me stuck in the middle.

His words only fueled the women’s anger. Glaring at me with burning resentment, both women seemed ready to roast me alive. The awkward atmosphere dragged on until I felt my blood freeze under their gaze.

At last, Black Cloak snorted coldly, her tone full of disdain, “Enough. I’m in no mood to argue with you now. Once we’re out of this water duel, we’ll settle things—fish die or net breaks, there’ll be time enough for that.”

Mengya, clearly bristling but restraining herself, sneered, “Fine. I hope you make it out alive.” She stood, shot me a furious look, and snapped, “Aren’t you coming?”

I nodded. “But how am I supposed to get across?”

“I’ll carry you,” she said.

I was stunned. She’d carry me? A woman, carrying me across that high bridge? If she failed, we’d both tumble into the water and be swept away. I lowered my head, silent.

Ghost-face Zhang seemed to frown as well. “Are you confident you can manage?”

Mengya smiled, waving for Ghost-face Zhang not to worry, clearly self-assured. Black Cloak only responded with a cold snort.

“Mengya, as long as you can get me from the boat onto the bridge, I can manage the rest,” I said decisively. I might not have their agility, but climbing a steel-frame bridge shouldn’t be out of reach. I wasn’t built like Kaleidoscope, after all—hardly helpless. No need for a woman to carry me.

Ghost-face Zhang nodded. “The cave roof is only about ten meters up. The bridge is seven or eight meters from us. As long as you have a little climbing skill, you should be able to make it. No need to argue over who’s favored.”

I cursed him again inwardly. Why not say that earlier? Did you just want to see me tormented by these two women? His face wasn’t the only abnormal thing about him—his mind was too.

Ghost-face Zhang lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and said gravely, “Let’s go.” He gripped the cigarette in his mouth, stepped onto a plank, and leapt over a meter to a ledge. Legs spread wide, he began to move sideways along the cave wall’s rocks, climbing in a zigzag, wave-like path. His flexibility was astonishing; at times, he stretched into a perfect split like a dancer. Clearly, his training had been brutal—performing splits and moon gates, his acrobatic climbing left us all dumbfounded.

While we stood gaping at this display of skill, Ghost-face Zhang reached the start of the bridge without breaking a sweat. He looked down at us, took another drag of his cigarette, and said, “Just climb up like I did. Shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

This time, I nearly cursed him out loud. Who could manage such acrobatics? “Shouldn’t be a problem”—wasn’t that just mocking us? He knew full well none of us could match him, yet he still showed off.

Just as I was silently repeating my curses, I heard Black Cloak’s cold laugh behind me. As I turned, a shadow flashed past—Black Cloak had already landed on a rock more than a meter away.