Chapter Forty-Six: The Betrayal and the Red-Eyed Rat

As I drew closer, I realized that the object was coated in a greasy sheen. The more I scrutinized the scattered bits, the more I became convinced they were small strips of flesh.

A pungent, alien stench flooded my nostrils. Though I could not identify the specific odor, a dark, ominous premonition stirred within me. I dared not get too close. After observing from a distance of a few feet, I debated whether to wake Fatty.

Glancing over, I saw that Fatty was in a deep slumber. Remembering the pools of blood I had seen on the ground earlier, I gritted my teeth and decided to investigate on my own.

After taking only two or three steps, the object came into full view. Only then did I clearly see a pale, cyan-tinted, meat-like substance, its surface covered in folds and a viscous, oil-like slime. A sickening thought welled up in my mind, prompting me to instinctively retreat.

"Damn it, could this be an intestine?"

I furrowed my brow, but upon closer inspection, it seemed that if a human intestine were pulled apart, it would look exactly like this. But how could that be? Why would an intestine fall from above? Was there someone hidden in the darkness whose body had been ripped open, allowing their entrails to slowly, slowly spill out?

Staring at the object as it swayed slightly, I could no longer contain myself. I turned and rushed to wake Fatty. He was in such a deep sleep that it took a significant amount of shaking and shouting to bring him around. Upon opening his eyes, he seemed unable to speak, so I quickly handed him my canteen.

"What? Did I oversleep?" Fatty asked, groggy, after downing half the canteen.

"Wake up, quick. Look at that thing over there." I pointed toward the long, dangling strip.

Fatty rubbed his eyes and craned his neck to look. "Hey! That... that damn thing looks like human intestines." At that, he gave a start and was instantly fully awake.

I helped him up, and together we walked toward it.

"Are you certain those are human intestines?" I asked, looking them over once more.

"No doubt about it," Fatty said, frowning. "I once had a tomb-raiding partner who had his stomach gashed open by a trap in an ancient burial site. It was me who had to hold his intestines in place so he could escape."

"How is it," I remarked, "that everyone who raids tombs with you ends up with such bad luck?"

"How would I know? Don't you dare slander me; Fatty's reputation in this business is legendary." He continued, "I’m certain there's a corpse up there."

I knew that, but the thought of someone up there slowly spilling their intestines out meant they couldn't possibly be alive. Of those who had entered with us—Peanut, Professor Chen, and Zhuge Xuan—could one of them be the source of this horror?

I immediately voiced my theory to Fatty. He wore a grave expression and remained silent. After a long pause, he said, "How about this? Let's grab hold of these intestines and see if we can pull the person down."

"Pull them down?" I shrank back. "Are you crazy? Why would you do that?"

"You don't understand. A human’s intestines only total about seven or eight meters. Look at this—it's at least ten meters long. Even someone as exceptional as Peanut wouldn't have intestines this absurdly long. Maybe it’s not a person at all."

"But didn't you just say they were human?" I asked.

"They look like it, but they're too long," Fatty replied. "Regardless of whether it's a human or something else, whatever is up there isn't going to last much longer. If we pull it down, we can judge the height based on the length of the intestine. If we can't find a way out, we can use these chiseled bricks to climb up like rock climbers."

What Fatty said made sense, but it was still incredibly risky. Imagine if the person up there wasn't dead, just severely wounded, and we pulled their intestines from below—they would surely haunt us from the grave. Still, given that the entrails had been hanging there for so long without a twitch, it would be a miracle if the person were still alive.

What I feared most, however, was that if it were Professor Chen or Zhuge Xuan, seeing them drop from above would scare me half to death. We began to argue; Fatty insisted on pulling, while I held him back, voicing my concerns. We started by stating our own positions, but perhaps due to being cooped up in this hellish place for too long, we soon began to bicker.

"Why the hell did you come along if you're such a coward?" Fatty snapped.

My blood boiled. "Damn it, who dragged me into this? If it weren't for you, I’d be in Beijing right now, drinking coffee."

"Don't give me that. Since you're here, you listen to me. Just look at your own incompetence—with your timid, wavering nature, if we were starting a revolution, you’d be the first to betray the organization."

I thought to myself, *what on earth does that have to do with anything?* Just as I was about to retort, the intestine before us twitched, and then began to sway more violently.

Fatty and I immediately fell silent. We waited for a moment, and then, a large black rat scurried quickly down the intestine.

Fatty looked at me with the air of a victor. "See that? The rats are already eating. What do you have to say now?"

I ignored him. After the black-furred, red-eyed rat climbed down, it crouched on the ground, staring unblinkingly at us. A few seconds later, a second red-eyed rat descended. These creatures had reduced Yang Lang to bones in an instant; a few were manageable, but if dozens or hundreds appeared, we were done for. I wasn't even sure if there were more giant rats, or if there was a connection between the giant rat and these smaller ones. If the giant rat was their mother or kin, seeing its corpse might provoke them into a frenzy against us.

After the second rat dropped, the movement on the intestine ceased. But for some reason, both rats just sat there staring at us, their eyes filled with such hatred and savagery that it made my skin crawl.

Fatty didn't have my patience. After staring back for a moment, he suddenly raised his foot and stomped down on one of the rat's heads. I winced as the creature's skull was crushed, blood and gore splattering onto our equipment bags.

Yet, the truly terrifying part was just beginning.

After Fatty stomped the rat to death, he felt no sense of triumph. The remaining rat hadn't even glanced at its fallen companion. Even with the commotion Fatty had made, it remained as it was, coldly watching us with its blood-red eyes.

Fatty groaned. "Damn, I've seen people who don't fear death, but this is the first time I've seen a rat that doesn't fear it."

"Forget it," I said, nudging Fatty. "Let's get out of here."

Fatty spat on the ground. "Damn it, not until I finish these things off."

He raised his leg to stomp again, but stopped mid-air. His eyes darted toward something, and he turned, letting out a stifled curse. I looked over, and my legs went weak.

At some point, the area surrounding our smokeless stove had been swarmed by the black-furred, red-eyed rats. The corridor and the nearby brick walls were packed with them—everywhere I looked, there were tiny, glowing red dots.

Even more terrifying, they were all standing perfectly still, heads tilted back, staring at us with chilling intent. My scalp felt like it was about to explode, and beads of cold sweat broke out on Fatty’s forehead. We dared not move, waiting for them to surge forward like a tide. My heart turned to ice; I felt that I was about to meet the same fate as Yang Lang.

Fatty shifted slowly toward me and whispered, "Miss, you need to stay calm. We can't make any sudden moves."

"I... I... I'm calm, you... you don't do anything rash either." I couldn't stop my body from trembling.

"If it comes to it, we'll jump into the burial pit," Fatty said.

"Fine, fine... but don't you dare run off and leave me behind."

"Bullshit, if we don't run fast, we won't have a life left to live!" Fatty seemed to be preparing for a sprint.

"That... that's not necessarily true. Maybe those rats are all coming for you."

"What?"

I continued, "You've got the rat's brains on your shoe—you left evidence. I bet they'll come for you first. But you're fat and well-fed, so you'll keep them busy for ten minutes. So, you'd better cover me."

Hearing this, Fatty’s pale face turned red with fright, and he seemed to regret his actions.

Yet, after a long standoff, the thousands of red-eyed rats still made no move. Fatty and I began to wonder.

"Do you think they’re deciding which one of us to eat first?" I whispered.

"Damn, that’s possible. Maybe they're thinking of having me as the main course and you as dessert."

I imagined the horrific scene of being torn apart and couldn't help but say, "How about we throw something over there and see if they have an appetite?"

Fatty turned to look at me. "Sure, why don't you throw one of your hands as a sacrifice? We'll kowtow to them, and maybe they’ll be so moved they’ll let us go."

Faced with so many rats and trapped in such a place, we both knew we had no options left. The banter was nothing more than dark humor in the face of death.

Suddenly, an idea struck me, and I looked at the intestine hanging beside us. My eyes shifted, and Fatty immediately knew what I was thinking.

"You mean pull the guy up there down and throw him to the rats?" he whispered.

I gritted my teeth and nodded slowly. Fatty looked at me, then nodded in agreement. We moved silently to the side, and Fatty reached out and grabbed the greasy intestine, giving it a slight tug.

*Sorry, buddy up there,* I thought. *If you aren't willing to come down, we're going to have to borrow a piece of your duodenum. Consider it a good deed—you won't have to worry about your waistline in the afterlife.*