Xiao San and Xiao Si sat down and immediately began to calculate; the two stared at each other, their schemes now entirely depleted.

"San-ge, what should we do? Should we follow them or not?" Xiao Si, having lost his initiative, could only consult his older brother.

Xiao San also ran the possibilities through his mind, then sighed, "Ah, Fourth Brother, about this matter." Thinking it over, Xiao San gritted his teeth and declared, "Here's the plan: I'll go up first. You wait here for Old Huang. When he arrives, follow him up. This one chance, this one time, is enough for a lifetime. If we run into the devils, it’s our bad luck; if we fall from the tree and get blown up by a mine, that’s just our misfortune."

"Alright, Third Brother, I'll wait right here. Be careful. We're the only brothers we have left; someone has to carry on the family line," Xiao Si said, pulling two grappling hooks from his large bag and handing them to Xiao San.

Xiao San clutched the two grappling hooks tightly, his eyes fixed on the great tree before him. With tremendous effort, he scaled the trunk. Then, mimicking the technique of Zhou Huan and Daoba, he began to move slowly, one step backward, the next forward.

Xiao Si waited beneath the tree for Old Huang. Things proceeded smoothly, and before long, Old Huang came hobbling along the path from which they had arrived, visible in the distance.

"Kid, you're quite loyal. I didn't expect you to wait for me here. Come on, follow me." Though Old Huang was old, his running speed was not inferior to a young man's. He snatched up two grappling hooks, gripped them tightly, and then sprang up the tree. But his method of ascent was unique: hooking both claws onto a branch, he began to swing his body slowly. When he reached a certain height, he released both hooks simultaneously and launched himself outward, flying away like an ape in the forest, soaring away with a shua shua sound.

Xiao Si watched until his eyes blurred; it seemed his own skills were the poorest among them. After grabbing his two hooks, he was utterly clueless about how to use them. When he finally managed to get up the tree and hooked his claws onto a branch, the hesitation and nervousness caused his grip to fail. He plunged downward. When he landed, he was completely shaken; his eyes were bloodshot, and sweat beaded on his forehead. Feeling that he was still alive, he muttered, "Thankfully, I didn't land on a mine. If I had hit a mine, I would be crippled if not dead."

Xiao Si, overwhelmed by relief, returned to the tree. The sight of his fall had indeed been dramatic, but just as he settled onto a branch, a muffled explosion echoed from the distant minefield. Xiao Si froze, stunned, unsure of what had happened inside. When he looked back across the landscape from his perch, he saw a large troop of Japanese soldiers sprinting toward them, shouting slogans.

"Damn your ancestors! This is clearly a setup to kill us!" Xiao Si had no time left to scheme; there was only one path: to follow the route the others had taken and push deeper in. Staying here, stuck between rock and a hard place, meant certain death.

In reality, Zhou Huan and Daoba were faster. Both men had an arm span significantly longer than their own bodies, giving them a shared advantage: they reached the edge of the minefield almost simultaneously and flew into the burial grounds directly from the treetops.

Next came Old Huang the Cripple. After a long wait, Xiao Si finally drifted down gently.

Zhou Huan immediately asked with tension, "Master Huang is here, but where is that kid?" He suddenly remembered the deafening sound of the mine exploding earlier—it was impossible to evade even a sliver of it.

"The mine that just exploded... was it?" Xiao Si was agitated, speaking quickly. He glanced at Daoba, then at Old Huang. "I'm certain my brother wouldn't have just stopped working. He's the only one here whose arm strength wouldn't last the whole distance. He must have stopped halfway to rest, and that pause must have caused him to fall, turning him into a test subject for the Japanese mines. My brother, why couldn't you just rest for a moment!"

Old Cripple Huang poked Xiao Si in the ribs with a finger. "Brother, let's hurry. I wanted to save him, but I was powerless. The devils will be here soon. That's the way it is in our line of work—no choice."

Old Cripple Huang’s words only fueled Xiao Si’s agitation. His legs gave way, and he collapsed to his knees, weeping. "Elder Brother, don't worry! I swear I will live well, at least to continue the family line for us! San-ge, watch over me!"

At this, Daoba raised his leg from behind Xiao Si and kicked him squarely, then roared, "What the hell are you crying about? If we don't move now, you’ll drag us all down! Go!" As the words left his mouth, Daoba grabbed Xiao Si by the collar and dragged him toward the depths of the cemetery.

Xiao Si continued to cry out, but Daoba bellowed, "If you keep crying, I’ll send you down to keep your brother company!" And indeed, that threat worked instantly, silencing Xiao Si.

"Daoba, look at you, you’ve terrified the young man," Old Cripple Huang said, patting Xiao Si’s shoulders. "Brother, don't be afraid. We'll work hard, and we’ll give your brother a proper burial when we get back!"

"Stop talking. The cemetery is just ahead. Look at all these graves covering the mountain—which one are we targeting?" Zhou Huan asked.

Daoba and Old Cripple Huang stopped and looked up the slope. As they watched, bursts of gunfire erupted from the area where the explosion had occurred. The density of the firing suggested a force of no less than a hundred men.

"Hurry, into the woods first! There’s a cave up on that peak; I came here as a child. Quick!" Old Cripple Huang shouted, already running with his limp. Even with his leg damaged, if he were sound, his speed over a hundred meters would qualify him for the Olympics.

The four men followed Old Cripple Huang’s route, flying toward the cave on the mountain. They rounded a large boulder and slipped into the woods, then skirted a small grove to reach a solitary cluster of pine trees forming a semicircle.

"Hurry, the cave is right ahead. Let's get inside and hide. Once it gets dark, we'll come out to work. The little devils are definitely searching the mountain now," Zhou Huan analyzed. Daoba pulled out his knife and gripped it tightly.

"We all need to be careful. The devils might know about this place too. If things go south, we’ll have to fight them. This mountain is cursed, damn it. Right behind us is a Japanese arsenal. Damn the Japanese! When I get rich, I'm absolutely going to hire men and smash those bastards!" Daoba’s voice, hoarse yet richly magnetic, and his ambitions were truly admirable, though the means by which he intended to acquire wealth were certainly debatable.

Zhou Huan cautiously stepped out of the cave. Peering through the foliage, he spotted several Japanese soldiers approaching from a distance. He immediately retreated into the darkness. "A few devils are coming this way. Be careful. I’ll go out; you two hold them off."

"I’m going with you!" Daoba said, following Zhou Huan out. They climbed a tree, using branches and leaves to conceal themselves, peering stealthily downward.

"I have to hide from the little devils just to rob a tomb—this is too much bullying! If I don’t kill a couple of devils today, it’s not over!" Daoba was furious.

Not long after, three or five neatly arrayed Japanese soldiers arrived at the mouth of the cave.

Old Cripple Huang, using the experience he gained earlier, immediately adopted the manner of a supplicant when he saw the Japanese soldiers, bowing and scraping obsequiously to placate them. "Esteemed Sirs, you see I am a cripple, and old besides. I don't know when I might die, I just wanted to come up the mountain to pay respects to my ancestors."

The Japanese soldiers understood little. Old Cripple Huang explained and gestured profusely, using facial expressions until the soldiers gained a vague understanding. It exhausted them all.

Zhou Huan watched intently from the tree, while Daoba’s knife slowly unsheathed. His eyes were locked on the devils below, his body coiled, ready to leap down.

"Don't move!" Zhou Huan grabbed him, "Look behind us." Daoba turned and looked carefully, instantly shocked. He slowly slid his knife back into its sheath.

"The little devils are really fast; how did another group get here? What do we do now!" The two whispered closely together.

Zhou Huan stared at the devils approaching from behind, feeling a sense of familiarity, especially with the Chinese translator wearing a Western suit jacket and glasses. There were about a dozen soldiers in this new group—precisely the same company that had demanded Zhou Huan’s shirt that day. As Zhou Huan looked closer, he saw that the Japanese leader’s military collar buttons were undone, revealing the very shirt he recognized.