The sounds from beneath the riverbed had not ceased, when suddenly, one after another, a series of heavy splashes—thump, thump, thump—erupted behind us. The splashing became so dense that the gaps between the sounds virtually disappeared, as if all the effigies previously suspended above the river channel had just been lowered into the water by their bronze chains.

Fatty muttered an oath to himself, "Damn it, this is bad. I’m afraid those things are about to turn into water ghosts and capsize our raft." With that, he unslung Jianwei from his back, slid open the breech, and loaded it with steel shot.

I also sensed something deeply wrong behind us, so I turned to look. However, the bamboo raft had already drifted past the section of the river where the effigies were hanging. Since we hadn't installed a powerful floodlight at the rear of the raft, the cavern behind us was pitch black. The tactical spotlight on my climbing helmet was practically useless here; even at its theoretical fifteen-meter throw, focusing the beam to its limit only allowed us to see about six meters ahead.

In absolute darkness, a single person's tactical flashlight struggles to accomplish much. Shirley Yang, sitting at the very back of the raft, squinted behind her but could see nothing clearly. She urgently called out to Fatty and me, "Forget what's behind us! Row with all your strength and move the raft as fast as possible. We need to get out of this section of the river before they catch up!"

I answered, "Understood! Full speed ahead." I turned on the front-facing searchlight, grabbed my bamboo pole, and prepared to push against the cavern walls to give the raft maximum forward momentum.

Unexpectedly, as the stiff beam of the searchlight shot out, it illuminated the straight river channel ahead, making it perfectly clear. About a hundred meters in front of us, there was another section where over a hundred effigies were suspended by bronze chains. The searchlight's beam was intensely bright, casting a terrifying effect on the grayish-brown human skin. Moreover, those effigies dangled and swayed in the narrow airspace of the channel like countless hanged ghosts, seeming to mock us with their desolate stillness.

The mechanism sound from the riverbed rang out again, echoing through the vast cavern. The chains suspending the effigies ahead began to fall away, and one by one, the effigies dropped into the river like bombs released from a bomber—thwump, thwump—in quick succession. In an instant, the area illuminated by the powerful spotlight ahead was left with only hundreds of empty chains.

This time, I was almost certain: this river channel, built for transporting materials during the construction of the Tomb of the Xian King, must have been rigged with mechanisms after the King was interred. The only uncertainty was what purpose was served by dropping those effigies, which had served as 'Zhong Shells,' into the water.

This expedition to Dragon-Crouching Mountain in Yunnan was off to a terrible start; before even entering the valley of the Snake River, we had already taken the wrong path. This river channel likely hadn't been traveled since the Han Dynasty, and it was only because of the heavy rainfall these past few days that our raft had been swept into it, causing us to miss the comparatively safer route.

I cursed inwardly, yet the raft continued forward. The water ahead was eerily still, without even the slightest ripple, as if those effigies had sunk to the bottom the moment they hit the water, causing no further disturbance. Even the ripples that should accompany a falling object seemed absent.

My experience in warfare told me that the calmer the surface, the greater the danger and turmoil brewing beneath. I subconsciously drew my entrenching shovel. This shovel was a treasure Fatty had acquired in Beijing—equipment taken from the US First Marine Division by the Chinese People's Volunteers during the Korean War—and it had been preserved perfectly to this day, truly a top-tier tool. It even bore the insignia commemorating the Battle of Guadalcanal. It was so expensive that I was reluctant to use it, but now was no time to hesitate. I resolved that whatever emerged from the water, I would meet it with a solid swing of the shovel first.

Shirley Yang also drew her pistol, flipped the safety off, and chambered a round. Prepared, we allowed the raft to drift slowly forward. Now caught in a pincer movement, our only option was to remain calm, ascertain the situation, and aim to strike back when the moment was right, rather than blindly rushing forward.

However, after we spent time bracing ourselves, the water ahead remained as calm as before. By now, the raft had drifted into the section where chains hung everywhere overhead. The thick, moss-covered chains hung cold in the air. I gritted my teeth. Damn it, it was too quiet. Such stillness must hide a problem. What could it be? It seemed the nature of revolutionary struggle was becoming increasingly complex.

Then, the answer appeared beneath the water surface. The river suddenly began to churn as if boiling, releasing streams of bubbles. I quickly lowered the angle of the searchlight and shone it into the water. The beam pierced the surface, perfectly illuminating an effigy half-sunk at the bottom.

The desiccated skin of the effigy began to show lines of cracking after soaking in the river water. The previously indistinct face became clearer after being saturated. It turned out that in life, the faces of these effigies had been smeared with mud. After ingesting the 'Zhong-Yin' parasite, mud was used to plug their seven orifices—eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and anus—suffocating them alive, which resulted in their blurred facial features. Their expressions were fixed in the desperate agony of their last moments. Now, illuminated by the light, and with the water flowing and refracting the beam, it seemed as if those countless effigies had been resurrected in the river, an absolutely terrifying sight. My hand controlling the powerful searchlight even trembled slightly; I had never witnessed such horror.

The cracks appearing on the effigies' bodies were gradually widening and swelling into fissures. Bubbles continuously emerged from their eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and the open splits in their bodies. Many dried insect eggs floated out.

These eggs came alive upon contact with water. Like dry sponges rapidly absorbing moisture, they quickly inflated, growing into creatures the size of a small wad of white tissue paper—'Water Leeches'—with fin-like appendages the size of a pinky nail growing on either side. They swam with incredible speed, hurtling towards our raft.

We were utterly horrified. This was the dreaded 'Water Leech Wasp' (Shuizhi Feng) of Yunnan, a shallow-water insect that loves to attach itself to floating objects to lay eggs. Sometimes in the rice paddies of Yunnan, Guangxi, or Vietnam, water buffaloes that were plowing suddenly leap up and bolt wildly; that is the work of the 'Water Wasp' biting them.

Fatty had never seen these 'Water Leech Wasps' common to places like Jiangxi. Seeing the grotesque white specks flying toward the raft like arrows, he used his bamboo pole to swat at them, kicking up massive splashes of water.

Fearing Fatty’s panic would capsize the raft, I quickly told him, "It's fine, don't be too nervous. Although these Water Leech Wasps bite fiercely, they can’t fly out of the water. As long as we stay on the raft and don't fall in, we don't need to worry."

As we watched, the white 'Water Leech Wasps' gathered in increasing numbers, layering themselves densely under the raft, their quantity far too great to count. Even more were joining from the distance. Despite their overwhelming numbers, they posed no immediate threat to the people on the raft.

Fatty cursed, "**, why are there so many? Did these crawl out of those human skins? Are they bugs or fish?"

I told Fatty they were aquatic insects. Fatty seemed slightly relieved. "That’s better. I’ve only heard scary stories about man-eating piranhas in the water. If it’s just bugs, it’s not so bad. No matter how fierce a bug is, it can’t eat a person."

Shirley Yang said to Fatty, "Actually, insects are the most formidable species on earth. It’s only their size that limits their destructive power. The strength and vitality of insects are the strongest on this planet. Enough bugs can kill a person, and some highly venomous ones can dispatch an elephant alone."

We continuously used our entrenching shovels to knock away the 'Water Leech Wasps' clinging to the front of the raft. Unfortunately, there were simply too many, and we could only reach the ones on the sides. We were helpless against those underneath. I tried to comfort Fatty and Shirley Yang, saying, "We just need to keep the raft balanced. These Water Leech Wasps are nothing major. I even ate a pot of them when I was in Vietnam—they are very high in protein, much tastier than silkworm pupae, tasting just like crayfish. Once the raft leaves this section of the river, we’ll boil and eat these Water Leech Wasps to feed our stomachs."

Fatty retorted, "You eat them yourself. These crawled out of dead bodies. Even if they tasted like lobster, I wouldn't eat a single bite."

Shirley Yang turned to me. "Let's not be too optimistic yet. Such a massive swarm of Water Leech Wasps, cultivated with such effort through Zhong sorcery within corpses, probably isn't simple. After studying various documents on Zhong arts recently, I've noticed one commonality."

I kept striking at the 'Water Leech Wasps' approaching the raft while paddling to push us out of the Dragon-Crouching Mountain area quickly. Hearing Shirley Yang’s words, a thought suddenly struck me. Recalling the layout of the coffin shop at the stone tablet village, I couldn't help but ask, "The characteristic you mentioned, is it... transposition?"

Shirley Yang confirmed, "Exactly. Zhong sorcery seems to use the soul of the deceased as a medium to transfer vengeful spirits onto other living things, transforming harmless creatures into deadly weapons or poisons. Of course, this is just the tip of the iceberg of what we’ve encountered. These Water Leech Wasps, nurtured in human corpses using ancient Zhong techniques, are certainly not ordinary Water Leech Wasps. We just lack sufficient information to grasp the true mystery of the Xian King's Zhong techniques and don't know what trick is hidden in this gourd."

Hearing us discuss this, Fatty inevitably grew agitated. "It seems that old corpse, the Xian King, only likes to play dirty tricks. He likes to take roundabout ways to harm people and won't just strike cleanly. Why use Zhong sorcery instead of a simple knife? Damn it, he’s truly troublesome."

As we spoke, the raft carried us through this straight section of the river and into a much larger cavern, which was completely filled with water. I swept the powerful searchlight around; this vast cavern was as large as two football fields. There was only one exit on the far side, where the current continued to flow. I checked the compass; that direction was southwest, meaning our bearing was correct. Letting the raft drift toward that exit would surely lead us through the massive grotto beneath Dragon-Crouching Mountain and eventually merge with the Snake River in the Insect Valley.

By this point, an unknown number of 'Water Leech Wasps' had attached themselves beneath the raft, causing it to sink deeper into the water. Any further weight might cause the water to rise over our feet, which would be disastrous. Our safety depended entirely on the raft floating on the surface. However, if there were this many 'Water Leech Wasps' bred by the Zhong arts here, perhaps the true danger wasn't the swarm itself, but the mechanism intended to crush us once the raft was weighed down. The most terrifying aspect of Zhong sorcery is that you can never predict the hidden move it conceals.

Estimating the time since we began drifting in the raft, we had passed about two-thirds of the journey beneath 'Dragon-Crouching Mountain.' If we could just hold on until we got ashore, we wouldn't have to worry about the things in the water. Having exerted ourselves paddling with the poles, our arms and legs were numb, and we could no longer push hard, forcing us to slow down. Shirley Yang tossed a floating buoy equipped with a barometer into the water to measure the depth; the water was deep—about thirteen meters, a rather inauspicious number.

Observing the massive cavern, which was situated in ancient magnesian limestone strata formed during the Fourth Glacial Period, the surroundings were dotted with clusters of gigantic, mushroom-shaped (I don't know the word for it, it's hard to describe, please forgive me) stones. In other places, they looked like huge clumps of coral upturned from the water. The scenery was spectacularly bizarre and beyond description. All three of us were awestruck by this rare, primeval geological landscape. We greedily gazed at every dreamlike, mushroom-cap-shaped rock, letting the raft drift toward the exit, momentarily forgetting to drive away the swarming 'Water Leech Wasps' beneath us.

The exit ahead was, like before, a straight waterway modified by human hands. Drifting down from there, it shouldn't take long before we smoothly exited the interior of Dragon-Crouching Mountain.

However, just as the raft carrying the three of us was halfway through this enormous mushroom-rock cavern, we heard sounds of shifting stone from a corner of the cave. In the darkness, it seemed some colossal entity was moving rapidly among the mushroom rocks along the cavern edge.

Shirley Yang reminded me, "Old Hu, quickly turn the searchlight over there."

I then remembered the powerful searchlight and hurriedly adjusted its angle. As the intense beam swept over the spot, the sound of rolling gravel instantly ceased. In the mushroom rocks, we saw a massive, scaled python rearing up, coiled, and facing us. This python was enormous—thicker than three large water vats combined; it was practically a clawless, green dragon. Its scales flashed an ominous light under the searchlight. It must have grown up in the forests of the Insect Valley and, due to its love for cool, shaded environments, had made this great cavern its lair, usually hiding here to sleep except when venturing out to hunt. Somehow, we had disturbed it.

The green-scaled python paused for a moment, then suddenly whipped up a foul, pungent whirlwind. Its serpentine body, huge and brimming with wild power, struck the passing white mushroom rocks, shattering them into countless fine powder. It looked even more like a giant dragon enveloped in white dust, charging with fierce speed, swimming rapidly into the water. After the green-scaled python entered the water, the mushroom rock dust it kicked up had not yet settled, but it had already surged out from the deep water like a gale, heading straight for our raft.