Chapter Forty-Three: The Onslaught of the Black Horde

Zhang Qinglin leaned back against the wall, finally feeling the blood in his body begin to circulate again. Warmth slowly returned to his hands as he listened to the conversation between Cheng Che and the man called Da Zhuang—whose real name, it turned out, was Wu Cheng’an.

Pressing his still aching forehead, Zhang Qinglin noticed a swelling there, unsure how it had happened.

“The real ‘Death Record of the Corroded Evil’ isn’t here. If you still want to keep searching, I advise you to stop now. Don’t even think about taking any of the ancient relics here,” Wu Cheng’an said, rising to his feet.

Cheng Che couldn’t help but shout, “What’s that supposed to mean? If there’s treasure, why shouldn’t we take it? If we don’t, someone else will—like that old Ma. Wu Cheng’an, if you know where those treasures are, you better take us to them. Stop talking nonsense…”

“We aren’t grave robbers, Cheng Che. Even if we take anything, it’s not ours to keep. It belongs to the nation,” Zhang Qinglin said.

“I’m just warning you. Otherwise, what happened earlier could happen again. If you want to leave here alive, don’t touch anything you see from now on!” Wu Cheng’an cautioned them.

About what had happened in the main burial chamber, Zhang Qinglin only remembered finding a black wooden box inside the stone coffin, then opening it. But what happened after he opened the box wasn’t exactly what he saw.

He spotted Li Qingpeng walking toward them, wounded and with his clothes torn.

“Enough, stop bickering. I came here with a task; I won’t leave without completing it. You, kid! Hand over the map…” Li Qingpeng’s impatience flared in his brows as he drew his pistol and aimed it at Wu Cheng’an.

Wu Cheng’an remained calm, spreading his hands and shaking his head, sighing, “I threw the map away. With Boss Ma and his men chasing me, do you think I’d still carry it?”

“Don’t play smart. Your tricks aren’t worth much compared to mine. Dada, search him,” Li Qingpeng ordered Baroque Lingda over.

Baroque Lingda stood, walked to Wu Cheng’an, and thoroughly searched him from top to bottom, inside and out, finally shaking his head at Li Qingpeng in disappointment.

“I told you it’s gone, but you still don’t believe me. If you want to leave, you’ll have to follow me!” Wu Cheng’an confidently tapped his chest.

“Hmph… Of course I don’t believe you. Tell me now, where did you hide the map?” Li Qingpeng pressed on.

Zhang Qinglin stepped forward, watching them, while Cheng Che stood aside, not daring to interject.

“Da Zhuang, if you know where the map is, just tell them. Let them search for it themselves, and we’ll leave!” Cheng Che couldn’t help but say.

Wu Cheng’an ignored him.

“Fine, don’t say it. Move,” Li Qingpeng motioned with his gun, ordering Wu Cheng’an to walk ahead, with Baroque Lingda following behind.

As soon as they stepped out of the burial chamber, they ran into a panic-stricken Ma Saike and Old Seven. Ma Saike, his face smeared with dirt, clutched his injured wrist, while Old Seven, battered and bruised, trailed behind.

Ma Saike froze upon seeing Wu Cheng’an. For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to strangle him, but he managed to keep calm. “Kid, hand over the map now.”

Old Seven came closer, his face so swollen it was barely recognizable. He glanced at the group but said nothing, standing behind Ma Saike.

“The map isn’t on him!” Li Qingpeng pressed his gun to Wu Cheng’an’s back, addressing Ma Saike.

“Hahaha, impossible! I lost so many brothers for the treasures in this tomb, and now you tell me there’s nothing? Hand him over to me!” Ma Saike demanded, eyes locked on them.

Li Qingpeng ignored him, pushing Wu Cheng’an aside.

“Stop!” Ma Saike shouted.

“Who are you to demand we hand him over? The world’s full of all kinds of fools,” Li Qingpeng replied.

Ma Saike was livid. “Old Seven, hurry up! Tie up that kid and bring him over!”

Old Seven staggered forward, but before he could reach them, Baroque Lingda stepped forward and landed a heavy punch, sending Old Seven sprawling, blood spraying from his mouth.

Seeing this, Ma Saike came at them himself. Unexpectedly, he dodged Baroque Lingda’s fist and charged at Li Qingpeng and Wu Cheng’an.

Li Qingpeng spun around and fired at Ma Saike, but Ma Saike was agile, dodging the bullet. He swung his arm and struck Li Qingpeng’s wrist, knocking the gun to the ground. He turned to grab Wu Cheng’an, but Wu Cheng’an sidestepped, and Ma Saike grabbed at nothing.

Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che rushed to Wu Cheng’an’s side, joining forces against Ma Saike.

Li Qingpeng shook his wrist, attempting to retrieve his gun from the ground, when a flying knife whistled toward him. He dodged quickly.

Following the knife’s trajectory, they saw it came from Master Wu. Baroque Lingda and Master Wu were locked in a fierce hand-to-hand fight. Master Wu was no pushover; despite Baroque Lingda’s brawn, Master Wu managed to knock him to the ground. Li Qingpeng glanced at Wu Cheng’an’s group.

Three against one seemed manageable, so he quickly grabbed the gun and fired three shots at Master Wu. With a roll and swift moves, Master Wu dodged each bullet—not because Li Qingpeng’s aim was poor, but because Master Wu was simply too fast.

Li Qingpeng tossed the gun aside and charged.

Ma Saike was being held around the waist by Cheng Che. Zhang Qinglin tried to choke Ma Saike, but Ma Saike hammered Cheng Che’s back with his fists. Cheng Che, in pain, shoved Ma Saike away several paces, releasing him and collapsing to the ground.

The sudden arrival of Ma Saike and Master Wu threw everything into chaos. Driven by the treasure beneath Calabash Mountain, they spared no cost, and despite previous disagreements, now faced their enemies together.

Zhang Qinglin watched as Ma Saike straightened, his gaze icy as he clenched his fists and lunged at Zhang Qinglin. Zhang Qinglin shouted to Cheng Che, who was sprawled on the ground, “Cheng Che, are you alright? Get up…”

Ma Saike was already next to Zhang Qinglin, with Wu Cheng’an behind him. Zhang Qinglin’s eyes flashed, and he moved forward, raising his arm to block Ma Saike’s punch. Ma Saike’s fist landed squarely on Zhang Qinglin’s shoulder, making him wince and stagger back two steps.

Seeing the dire situation, Wu Cheng’an’s eyes darted, and he quickly moved toward the shadows.

Cheng Che struggled to his feet, clutching his aching abdomen and feeling his back. “You old bastard, you dumped us at Black Mine Mountain and kidnapped Xinyue to threaten us. This time, you won’t get away—ah…”

He grabbed his backpack and rushed forward.

Li Qingpeng had already pinned Master Wu down, delivering a punch to his face. Master Wu’s eyes widened, cheeks burning, and he spat a mouthful of bloody froth, a molar tumbling out with it.

Master Wu fought desperately to break Li Qingpeng’s grip.

Old Seven staggered up, shoving Li Qingpeng off Master Wu with all his strength.

Suddenly, from the pitch-black depths of the burial tunnel came a strange noise—“squeak, squeak…”

The sound sent shivers down everyone’s spine.

A dense swarm descended upon the burial chamber. Black-winged creatures darted toward Zhang Qinglin, who squinted to see—they were bats!

They wheeled overhead, and one or two swooped down, baring their mouths. Their canine teeth were long and sharp, the upper incisors pronounced and triangular—razor-edged, they sank directly into Ma Saike’s neck, clinging there, eyes fixed ahead.

Ma Saike tried to swat the bat, which seemed glued to him, beating its wings in vain. With force, he finally knocked it to the ground.

Then more bats attacked Ma Saike. Zhang Qinglin quickly helped Cheng Che toward a spot with fewer bats.

Wu Cheng’an grabbed Zhang Qinglin’s shoulder, urging them to follow him. Ma Saike’s face was slashed by bats, blood streaming, and Li Qingpeng was similarly beset.

Zhang Qinglin shouted for Li Qingpeng and Baroque Lingda to hurry, then saw Old Seven completely surrounded by bats, which seemed to savor their feast, sucking blood greedily.

Master Wu ran back and forth, howling and swatting at bats. Ma Saike was torn to shreds by the bats, blood gushing, and rescue seemed impossible.

Master Wu glanced at Old Seven, then at Ma Saike—he couldn’t help either. He bolted in the direction where Baroque Lingda had disappeared.

The group hurried out of the bat-infested chamber. Li Qingpeng took out hemostatic medicine and gauze from his bag to tend to Baroque Lingda’s wounds.

Wu Cheng’an explained, “Those bats are vampire bats. They live in colonies, dwelling on the ceilings of mountain caves and seem to delight in their communal life. Vampire bats inhabit nearly total darkness, and their lairs reek of ammonia from accumulated digested blood. But these bats are different—they’ve mutated, their sensitivity to blood greatly heightened, and they’re fiercely aggressive.”

Cheng Che touched his shoulder, bitten by a vampire bat, and seeing the blood on his hand, cried out to Wu Cheng’an, “Why is my blood purple? Damn it…”

“Don’t move. You’ve probably been bitten by a venomous vampire bat. If you move, the toxins will spread faster in your blood, and once they reach your organs, no one can save you,” Wu Cheng’an said.

Li Qingpeng shook his head, chuckling, “Don’t let him scare you. These vampire bats live in tombs, but there are no vampire bats in our region. There are only three blood-feeding bat species worldwide: the common vampire bat, the hairy-legged vampire bat, and the white-winged vampire bat. All three are native to the Americas, ranging from Mexico to Brazil, Chile, and Argentina.”

“Peng, then why is Cheng Che’s blood purple?” Zhang Qinglin asked.

Li Qingpeng walked over with the medicine and gauze, turning Cheng Che’s shoulder to examine it. At the shoulder, there was a bite mark—not from the bats.

Wu Cheng’an shrugged, “Exactly, that wasn’t a bat bite. It must be a ‘Chujun.’ Once bitten, the skin turns purple, then the organs rot away—then you head straight to the underworld…”

“Da Zhuang, stop joking. Is there an antidote?” Zhang Qinglin asked, seeing the purple spreading around Cheng Che’s eyes.