Chapter 41: The Mysterious Underground Ancient City

At that moment, I truly didn’t know what to do. Though I had some confidence in my own skills, I wasn’t nearly confident enough to handle so many people—let alone so many guns. It seemed there was no way to escape for now, so I simply took the chance to rest for a while. Two hours later, Old Ghost called out, “Get ready to go down.”

I knew this was their slang, but what surprised me was that Old Ghost himself wasn’t preparing to descend. Instead, it was a chubby man who took the lead. His face was full of fat, and when he smiled his eyes all but disappeared, giving him a very genial appearance. Still, I knew better than to judge by appearances—such people, I’d learned, often hid danger beneath their smiles. I needed to stay alert.

His name was Old Simpleton, though everyone around here called him Brother Simpleton. He seemed to be second-in-command. He patted my shoulder with a broad smile and said, “Brother, sorry to trouble you this time. Thanks for your hard work.”

He spoke very politely. As the saying goes, you don’t hit a smiling face, so I couldn’t say much—just nodded to show I understood.

These men moved with great efficiency, entering the opening one by one in order. I was positioned in the middle—no doubt to prevent me from making a run for it. They gave me a set of gear, though notably, there was no food or water inside.

I particularly hated this feeling; it made me deeply uncomfortable. Soon, we arrived at the place with the Suspended Soul Ladder. Using the same method as before, we quickly reached the next exit. I was surprised—using the same technique, we emerged somewhere completely different.

Just as before, I followed the method from my first entry, but now the exit was not the familiar pool but rather a bridge. It was neither the entrance I’d used nor the one Li Ling and the man with the black sunglasses had taken. I was momentarily stunned.

Beneath the bridge, a slow stream flowed. The bridge itself was ancient, its construction peculiar—made of wood, with intricate carvings. I wondered how, after a thousand years, it could still be so solid. Outwardly, it looked remarkably well preserved.

Old Simpleton asked, “Brother, what do you think—how do we cross?”

I shook my head and told him honestly what had happened when we first came in. He said nothing, only nodded, then took out a pair of glasses and put them on, studying the inscriptions on the bridge. Suddenly, he exclaimed in surprise:

“This is the Bridge of Forgetfulness?”

The Bridge of Forgetfulness—hearing that, I was stunned. Wasn’t that a thing of legend, meant to exist in the underworld? How could it be right before us? As I stood puzzling over this, Old Simpleton explained:

“Don’t be afraid. This one’s a replica—a structure modeled after the Bridge of Forgetfulness. Look here, this is called Yin script. You probably haven’t heard of it, but it does exist. These three characters, in Yin script, mean Bridge of Forgetfulness.”

I glanced at those three characters at the head of the bridge. I couldn’t read them, but a chill crept over me. Still, I asked,

“How do you know it’s a replica? Have you seen the real Bridge of Forgetfulness? And what is Yin script?”

Old Simpleton grinned at my questions. “Brother, are you interested in this field too? I love this stuff. According to some unofficial records, the ancient Li Kingdom was also called the Kingdom of Yin. Yin script was their writing, also known as the script of the underworld. In many legends, the Li Kingdom was a realm of the dead. It sounds absurd, but I suspect the ancient Li kings wanted to build a kingdom of the dead to pursue immortality. As the saying goes, you can’t bring the dead back to life—but if you were born to be dead, that’s a sort of immortality, isn’t it?”

His words were so mysterious I couldn’t process them at once, so I didn’t ask more. Old Simpleton seemed highly knowledgeable and loved to show it off, always delighted to answer questions in an arcane, scholarly manner.

He appeared to know far more than Li Ling did, which surprised me. Even things the elders on Dalong Mountain didn’t know, these people understood intimately. It was as if outsiders knew our family secrets better than we did. If not for our current adversarial positions, I’d want to sit down with him and ask a thousand questions.

One of the men went up to test the bridge—it seemed sturdy enough. He called for everyone to cross. I stepped onto it and marveled; even after a thousand years, the wood was so solid. Incredible.

The bridge wasn’t long. We crossed quickly. What lay ahead was a long passageway, clearly the result of extensive construction. Carvings lined every surface—strange animals of every kind, chiseled into the walls. Old Simpleton was thrilled, touching everything as he walked and explaining as he went.

He told us that this was likely the original site where the ancient Li Kingdom tried to establish the Kingdom of Yin, though it must have failed before it was completed. The so-called Kingdom of Yin was modeled after the underworld. According to some esoteric histories, every Li king was a “Yin person.” As for what that meant, Old Simpleton admitted he didn’t know—he said he was still researching it. In the end, like most rulers, they sought immortality, but the kings of Li took far more bizarre paths.

Soon, I realized the route we took was utterly different from before. The places it led to filled me with unease and unfamiliarity. Where was the underground city?

As we walked, Old Simpleton turned and asked, “Brother, where’s the site? Are we on the right path?”

I could hear the doubt and suspicion in his voice, but honestly, I didn’t know either. I shook my head. It was clear they didn’t believe me.

We pressed on and finally emerged from the carved tunnel, to find a small town. But this underground settlement was entirely unfamiliar to me. I’d only been here once before, but I knew at once I’d never seen this place.

First, the town was much smaller than the site I’d visited previously, and the architectural style was different. This place was much better preserved—there was almost no sand or signs of collapse, and an eerie atmosphere pervaded every corner.

“At last, we’re here,” someone said, chuckling.

Seeing the excitement of those around me, my unease deepened. Where exactly were we? If this was the ruins of the ancient Li Kingdom, what was the site I’d visited before? Or perhaps that was the real ruin—and this, something else entirely.

My mind was in chaos. My instincts screamed at me: don’t go in. A deep sense of dread welled up inside me. I wanted to go back alone—I’d brought them as far as the path, after all. But Old Simpleton, though his words were polite and gentle, made it clear he wouldn’t allow it.

There was nothing I could do but grit my teeth and follow them inside, thinking I’d look for another chance to escape. As soon as I entered, I was certain—this was not the ruin I’d visited before. The houses on either side looked very similar to what I’d seen previously, but on close inspection, this place was far more intact, untouched by the passage of time. It was as if a town sealed for a thousand years had suddenly appeared before our eyes from some hidden dimension.

We hadn’t gone far when I caught a sudden, mouthwatering aroma. It wasn’t just me; everyone seemed to smell it. It was a rich, delicious scent—yes, it was stewed beef. The fragrance was overwhelming.

Old Simpleton sniffed the air, frowning. “This is too fragrant—unbelievable. How could there be stewed beef here?”

Following the scent, the seven of us found ourselves before a small courtyard. The aroma was coming from inside. One of the taller men said, “I don’t buy it—could someone really be in here cooking?”

With that, he kicked open the courtyard door and strode in. We all followed. The courtyard was small but spotless, which only made it more unsettling. Even if it had been preserved underground for a thousand years, there should be some dust, shouldn’t there? But the real strangeness came next: when we entered the main hall, we saw that a stove inside was billowing with hot steam.

We all stopped breathing, stunned by the scene before us. In this ancient underground city, sealed for millennia, the courtyard was filled with the smell of stewed beef, and the stove was really cooking beef, clouds of steam rising from it. It was too bizarre to comprehend.

A cold sweat broke out along my back. No one spoke. Old Simpleton said nothing, simply staring intently at the stove. The tall man finally broke the silence. “This is some real freaky shit—I don’t believe it.”

He strode forward and lifted the lid off the pot. Instantly, a rush of steam and even richer aroma filled the air. We were all dumbfounded. I even heard one of the men swallow audibly. To be honest, even I was tempted to take a bite.

Inside the pot was a whole stew of beef, almost falling apart from tenderness, the broth bubbling thickly. Everyone crowded around the stove, staring. It was simply impossible to believe or accept.

“Is this… really beef?” someone asked, but no one answered. I instinctively stepped back. This was too uncanny—utterly unnatural. There was no way anyone was down here cooking beef. And where would the beef have come from? Where the firewood? How long had this pot been cooking? Suddenly, I realized: this courtyard didn’t look like it had been abandoned for a thousand years. On the contrary, it seemed as if someone had been living here all along.