Chapter Fourteen: It's Best to Be Wary of Rats

The Rat gave us a mysterious smile and said, "We've asked around about this mountain—no one knows its name. But there's plenty of intrigue hidden inside." With that, he dashed toward it. We watched him slip into the tall grass, and in an instant, he vanished. Even searching the rock walls to the sides and behind, we couldn't spot him.

"Could that kid be lying in wait for us in there?" Old Tan wondered aloud.

Peanut seemed to realize something, and his face broke into a smile. "So it's inside the mountain, after all."

"What? Are you saying the steps up the mountain are inside the rock?" I couldn't believe it. This mountain was at least a thousand meters high—carving a staircase from top to bottom within the mountain would be a colossal feat. More importantly, there seemed no reason for such an undertaking; who would have thought of it...

Before I could ponder further, Peanut moved over and slipped into the grass. Old Tan and I exchanged glances, then followed suit.

Once inside the grass mound, I was dumbstruck.

"There...really is a staircase," Old Tan said, stunned.

Behind the grass was a shallow cave carved into the mountain, barely five or six meters deep. Yet, on the left side of the cave, there was indeed a staircase ascending upward. The path was narrow, just wide enough for a single person, with marks of human workmanship at the top and on both sides. On the right, many ventilation holes had been chiselled in, allowing light and air to flow freely. Though we were inside the mountain, there was no need for additional illumination.

"This route is seven or eight hundred meters long; it's steep, but much better than climbing the mountain path. With your backpacks, if you get tired, just lean back—you won't fall," came Rat's voice, echoing faintly from within the cave-stairway.

I craned my neck to look upward and saw the staircase rose at almost a seventy-degree angle. On closer inspection, there were smooth, shallow grooves on either side, running all the way up. I couldn't fathom the purpose of these grooves; they seemed an unnecessary embellishment.

Peanut touched the rock inside one of the grooves, gazing up with a thoughtful expression.

Rat urged us to hurry. So, as before, he took the lead, Peanut followed to keep an eye on him, Old Tan and I brought up the rear.

As we stepped onto the stairs, everyone but Rat moved cautiously. After a hundred meters or so, I began to feel there was little danger. As Rat had said, since the steps were inside a narrow cave, you could nearly bump your head if you stood upright; for rest, simply lean to either side. The abundant light made it even more reassuring.

"Hey, Yuan, look—there are murals here," Old Tan suddenly tugged at my sleeve, pointing overhead.

I looked up and immediately spotted faded murals on the cave ceiling. The artwork stretched above us and continued ahead, seemingly quite extensive. It depicted figures holding sickles and hoes, appearing to chase after something.

Old Tan and I, seeing such things for the first time, were filled with curiosity, craning our necks as we climbed. We were startled by what we saw: the figures with farm tools and weapons extended for more than ten meters, and though my neck grew stiff, I still hadn't seen what they were chasing. Eventually, the crowd in the mural dwindled, and a convoy of carts appeared ahead. Each cart was laden with boxes, and behind each stood a figure, seemingly shooting arrows backward. Leading the convoy was a grand carriage pulled by four horses—clearly not meant for ordinary passengers. The attendants flanking the carriage looked desperate; some had broken limbs and were crawling forward.

I couldn't interpret all the details, but it was clearly a depiction of a flight or escape. The mural ended there, but my attention was drawn to a subtle detail.

On that splendid carriage, a window was slightly open, and a pale hand rested on the sill. At first, it seemed unremarkable, but I noticed a pattern on the back of the hand.

I stopped, stood on tiptoe to get a better look, but the area was shadowed. I took out my flashlight, and in its beam, I saw the back of the hand was marked with a sharply defined, dark red...spider.

The mural as a whole was painted in an expressive style, emphasizing movement and gesture, with scant attention to finer detail. Yet the spider on the hand was rendered with exquisite precision, creating an odd sense of discord.

Old Tan asked what I was pondering, and I described the spider and my thoughts.

He laughed heartily. "Looks like you really inherited your father's genes! Now that we've graduated, maybe you should just take over his work."

I wasn't in the mood for jokes; I knew my knowledge was useless here. Shaking my head, I pressed on.

Not long after, a bloodcurdling scream echoed ahead. The sound reverberated through the narrow cave, deafening—the shock nearly made me fall off the stairs.

"It's Rat," I said to Old Tan once I'd recovered.

The passageway wasn't straight; there were many bends. Rat and Peanut were ahead, out of sight. Old Tan and I hurried forward.

Soon, we saw Peanut crouched on the stairs, cradling Rat, who seemed injured, clutching his arm and howling.

"What happened?" I asked.

"He just suddenly fell from the steps—I don't know why," Peanut replied, bewildered.

"My arm—ah! Something bit my hand!" Rat screamed.

We saw blood seeping from Rat's hand.

"Could there be snakes here?" Old Tan wondered.

A chill ran down my back. The space was so narrow—if a venomous snake appeared, there'd be nowhere to hide. As I thought this, a cool draft brushed my left cheek. Wait—the vents were on the right. Left side...

I turned my head and tapped Peanut.

"There's a hole there."

Everyone followed my gesture and saw a stone hole above us, just bigger than my head, pitch black, like a pupil staring down.

"Damn, these holes are perfect for snakes," Old Tan frowned, and I felt a cold shiver.

Yet Peanut's tense expression began to relax. I saw a sly smile at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes flashed coldly. Suddenly, he twisted his arms—Rat was pinned to the stairs, Peanut's knee pressed into Rat's stomach, his left hand gripping Rat's throat.

Old Tan and I were stunned, unable to comprehend Peanut's actions. But soon we saw Rat was holding the three "keys" Peanut had kept in his backpack.

"He's been acting," Old Tan shouted.

It was clear: Rat had faked injury to get close and steal the three "keys."

This guy was truly cunning. But I wondered, how had Peanut seen through him so suddenly?

"Mercy, please, gentlemen—I won't dare again," Rat pleaded, coughing. We saw now the wounds on his arm were self-inflicted—he'd gouged two holes with his own fingers.

Peanut smiled as always, but in his eyes there was a hint of lethal intent. Fearing he might actually kill Rat, I stepped forward and grabbed his arm.

"Relax—we're not there yet. I won't kill him," Peanut said, letting go, retrieving the items from Rat and stowing them at his waist.

"What made you react so quickly?" I asked.

Peanut looked up at the hole above us. "That hole—it's the spot he crawled out of when he escaped the tomb."

"What?" I exclaimed.