Chapter Nineteen: A Paradise Within

"Peanut! Where are you?" I shouted into the void of darkness, but heard no answer. "Old Tan! Peanut..." With every call of their names, the fear in my heart only grew thicker, even my own echo sounded terrifying in this moment. As I continued calling, my voice grew weaker, until finally, I didn't dare make a sound at all.

Suddenly, the whole world fell silent; on the vast square, I was alone. In this ancient tomb untouched for a thousand years, darkness surged toward me with reckless abandon. My worry turned into terror, and my limbs began to tremble.

Just as I stood frozen, something struck my shoulder heavily.

"Ah!" I jumped in fright, my soul nearly leaving my body, before turning around.

"Sorry." Peanut gave a mischievous grin and winked at me.

Seeing him, I almost wanted to embrace him out of sheer relief.

"You... you're alright, then..." I was about to ask about Old Tan when I saw Peanut carrying someone over his shoulder.

Peanut set the person down, and sure enough, it was Tan Wei. I crouched down immediately to check on him.

"He's not dead," Peanut said, and, apparently exhausted, sat heavily on the ground.

Old Tan's face was ghostly pale, but his breathing was steady—he seemed not to be in any real danger. I took my backpack and placed it under his head as a pillow, then handed Peanut some water.

"Thank goodness for you. What was that thing just now? How did it snatch Old Tan away in utter silence?" I asked Peanut.

Only then did I notice his face was pale too. So he wasn't made of steel after all. Yet his actions just now were astonishing—such skill seemed wasted as a tomb raider; if he went to Hollywood, he'd be a star by now.

Peanut took the canteen, but instead of drinking, he lit a cigarette, took two deep drags, probably to steady himself.

But to my surprise, he then stood up and took off his shirt.

"It's not hot, why are you undressing?" I looked up at him and suddenly noticed a streak of blood across his shoulder, extending down his back.

"You're hurt?" I hurried over, shining my flashlight, and was stunned.

I never imagined the blood streak would stretch from his shoulder all the way to his lower back. It wasn't just a wound—it was a gash. The flesh was turned outward as if he'd been struck diagonally with a heavy blade, blood soaking his back and pants.

Immediately, I recalled the massive shadow from earlier and asked, "What on earth was that thing?"

"Spider," Peanut replied with a grin. "Maybe this place is so remote, no hourly workers come, so it grew that big."

"You can still joke? Damn it, do you realize untreated wounds like this can be fatal?" I immediately grabbed the first aid kit from the bag. Luckily, we were well prepared, with plenty of medicine for injuries. I was about to clean his wound with alcohol when Peanut waved it off, tossing me a handful of band-aids instead.

"Huh?" I was dumbfounded.

"I'm immune to all poisons, medicine won't do me any good. Just stick a couple on, it'll be fine." With that, he put the alcohol and tetanus medicine back.

"You're insane." I didn't bother arguing, grabbed the alcohol and cotton, and began cleaning his wound. I thought he was just afraid of pain and didn't want to lose face in front of me, but even after I finished, he didn't utter a sound. That kind of endurance—only the legendary Guan Yu could rival him.

Once I was done, I recalled the earlier incident and asked, "Hey, was there a rope on that pillar? How did you figure it out?"

Peanut pointed to the approximate location of the six stone pillars. "If whatever dragged him was completely suspended, it wouldn't move in a straight line. There's no connection between us and the tower. That movement, combined with the height, meant it had to involve the pillars. I just didn't expect it to be spider silk."

"Spider silk?" I immediately thought of the silk I'd touched earlier. "Impossible, how can spider silk be that tough?"

"Don't use your experience to judge what's inside ancient tombs," Peanut said, turning back to enjoy his cigarette.

"You mean the silk was spun by that giant creature?"

"No, the thing was big, but not big enough to produce silk of that caliber. You'll see for yourself when you climb up."

His words startled me. "There's something even bigger?" The thought of an even larger spider than that shadow chilled me to the bone. Wait... I suddenly realized, "What did you say? Climb up? What do you mean, climb up?"

Peanut grinned, "Can't you see? That's our only way forward."

Following Peanut's finger, I seemed to glimpse a web stretched overhead. But it was over thirty meters high, connected by a strand of spider silk—certain death. Not to mention, Old Tan and I could never scale those pillars.

Yet, thinking it over, it did seem like the only way into the tomb.

"But what if that thing comes back?" I asked, still uneasy.

"Relax, it'll be fine." Peanut's words sounded reassuring, but his expression was the kind used to placate a child, which only made me less confident.

Damn it, if I die, so be it—this was the only option. My knees felt weak just thinking about it.

After a while, uncertainty still nagged at me, so I asked Peanut, "Don't you find it odd? You said the tomb on the other side is for ritual, and there are ritual vessels at the entrance. How did people in ancient times get there for the ceremony? Surely they didn't all climb spider silk—it's too bizarre. I don't believe everyone had your agility."

Peanut looked ahead. "You're right, the spider silk overhead is a coincidence. The real passage isn't there. I believe there are mechanisms around us. Did you notice anything strange about the moat?"

"Strange?" I tried to recall the scene. "Nothing special, except cold mist rising from the water and... well, it's high, pretty intimidating."

"Exactly, the height," Peanut nodded with a smile.

"Height?" I thought moats were supposed to be deep—what was odd about that?

Peanut explained, "If this were a real city gate, the moat could be as deep as needed, but this is a tomb. Ancient people had strict requirements for burials, but even the greatest emperor couldn't bury everything from reality in his grave. So, everything in a tomb has symbolic meaning."

He paused, watching me digest his words before continuing, "How deep is the moat we see? Twenty or thirty meters is just the surface; the depth below is unmeasurable. That height is actually the foundation of the tomb itself. Imagine building such a tall foundation inside a mountain cave—what an undertaking that would be."

Suddenly, I understood Peanut's implication. "You mean the overall height of the tomb includes the moat? My god, how tall would that be?"

"It's not the height that's important, but that a tomb like this makes no sense in the Western Han. Back then, most tombs were vertical shafts—digging down from above, then dividing the bottom into passageways, chambers, courtyards, and so on. What we see is a large-scale horizontal rock-cut tomb, and this structure only started to appear in the late Western Han, fully developed by the Tang dynasty. People in Western Han probably hadn't even conceived of such a design."

Mulling it over, I said, "So you think it's illogical—could it be this isn't a tomb but a hidden city in the mountains?"

Even saying it, I startled myself.

Peanut shook his head, "This is definitely a tomb, deliberately built this way for some special reason."

"What do you think that reason might be, based on your experience?" I asked, curious.

Peanut suddenly fell silent, and after several seconds, he said, "This tomb isn't just for burying the dead."

I laughed, "If not for the dead, then for ghosts?" But seeing the gloomy look on Peanut's face, my laughter died off. "Don’t scare me," I said.