Chapter 79: Heart and Lung in Ruin, Liver and Bowels Torn Asunder; All Three Burners in Rebellion, Soul in Turmoil

Chapter 79: Heartbroken, Lungs Torn, Liver and Bowels Shattered—All Three Burners in Rebellion, Soul Soaring

Zhang Mancheng continued to mutter under his breath: “Yu Gang Incantation, step with the Yu Pace towards the Yangming... Yu Pace Fire...” Then, without hesitation, he thrust his hand deep into the crevice of the stone wall and seized the thing within. Instantly, a wailing erupted from inside the rock—a sound disturbingly like an infant’s cry, yet piercingly shrill and unbearably tragic.

By rights, killing such a ghastly, uncanny thing should not inflict much psychological burden. But as Zhang Sanlu listened to that grating wail, his skin crawled and his heart pounded with dread. Zhang Mancheng, on the other hand, wore a grave, frost-like expression, his face set and resolute as he continued to exert his strength without hesitation.

A more revolting stench began to permeate the air—no longer the putrid reek of decay, but the unmistakable odor of burning flesh. The grotesque thing within the stone wall at first struggled and thrashed, screaming in agony, but gradually its movements ceased, its shrieks fading into an eerie, deranged whispering. In the end, the shadow in the wall grew completely still. Only the gap in the stone remained, still belching black smoke.

Zhang Sanlu swallowed hard and collapsed to the ground, exhaling a long-held breath. He had just begun to relax when Zhang Mancheng declared, “It’s not over yet!”

Zhang Sanlu understood what he meant. There were at least twenty or thirty of those shadows on the wall, and the darkest, nearest ones already numbered five or six. Zhang Mancheng paused only briefly to steady himself, then once more assumed his stance and repeated the ritual. Soon, the earlier scene replayed itself.

By the time they reached the third one, both men knew they were running out of time. But Zhang Mancheng refused to stop, bracing himself and forging ahead.

Suddenly, Zhang Sanlu’s heart hammered wildly and his body trembled—not from fear, curiously, but from some other sensation. He felt a chilling touch at the back of his neck, as though something had landed there. Reaching back, his hand found only bits of stone debris. His eyelid twitched; glancing up, he saw that less than a meter above his head, the rock ceiling had cracked open, revealing a black, staring eye.

A scraping sound rang out as a heap of rubble and dust tumbled down. Startled out of his wits, Zhang Sanlu barely had time to react when a stone above his head shattered and something lunged down at him. Reflexes honed by his recent ordeals kicked in: Zhang Sanlu rolled away in an instant, just as the thing crashed onto the spot where he’d been standing.

For the first time, he realized his body now responded faster than his mind, a benefit of the string of strange events he’d survived. After his tumble, Zhang Sanlu scrambled upright. In the past, he would have tried to see what had attacked him, but now he wasted no time—he dove aside again with all the speed he could muster.

Almost simultaneously, he heard a rush of wind where he’d just stood—the thing had leapt at him again. If he’d hesitated for even half a second, it would have toppled him, tearing and biting until they were locked in a deadly struggle.

But the situation was dire. He couldn’t wait for Zhang Mancheng to help—he hadn’t even stood up before he shouted, “Yanhai!” At the same time, he drove his hand fiercely into his own left leg, puncturing his calf with four bloody holes. Then, with a backward arch, he dodged the lunging shadow.

All these actions happened in the blink of an eye, smooth as flowing water. He heard a crash behind him—something had fallen. He knew he’d struck the shadow, but had no idea how badly.

Another gust of wind swept by; Zhang Sanlu realized he must not let himself be surrounded. He had to deal with one threat at a time. Almost at once, there came a cracking sound from behind, and the torch that had been rolling on the ground was stamped out.

Darkness swallowed the cave. He couldn’t see a thing—his hand before his face would have been invisible. The whole place fell eerily silent.

Then, in a flash, a maw lined with razor teeth lunged upward from below, sinking into the side of Zhang Sanlu’s neck. Agonizing pain seared through him, as if the creature would snap his neck in two. Blood mixed with torn flesh flooded into his throat.

Without thinking, Zhang Sanlu seized the thing biting him. His hand met slick, lumpy skin, riddled with grotesque swellings. He opened his mouth wide and bit down hard on the darkness before him.

In that instant, a spray of thick, bloody fluid burst from his mouth, splattering the creature.

The thing recoiled with a shriek, trying to retreat, but Zhang Sanlu gripped its face with all his strength. Accompanied by a tearing sound and a blood-curdling scream, he wrenched away a piece of skin and flesh—eyeball and all!

He roared, “Die! Die!”

A deep, booming voice shouted from the other side, “Sanlu, don’t—?!”

As Zhang Sanlu tore the skin from his attacker’s face, he heard a myriad of crawling sounds rushing toward him from the darkness. The sheer number of slithering, stone-cracking noises was unimaginable.

Instinct took over; Zhang Sanlu flung himself forward. There was no time for fear. He felt a searing pain at his back—something had seized him, claws digging into his flesh. He was hurled to the ground by the force of the attack, his back burning with pain.

Gritting his teeth, he rolled rapidly, scrambled up, and darted backward. He sensed the wind behind him—a shape already upon him.

Clutching his left ribs, he gave a mighty shove to the left, twisting his body violently. His rib bones punctured through his abdomen, blood spurting forth.

Howling, Zhang Sanlu yanked out the rib, dripping with his own flesh, and plunged it into his chest, then tore it savagely to the right.

With a sickening crack, blood and flesh sprayed through the air, mingling with screams of agony. An excruciating pain engulfed Zhang Sanlu, radiating outward, infecting everything around him.

The shadow behind him collapsed, and all the others—those on the stone walls themselves—writhed in despair and torment. Wails and howls echoed throughout the cavern.

Zhang Sanlu’s strength gave out; he collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from his mouth. He touched his wounds—his abdomen was flayed open, the rib he’d pulled free had torn a gaping hole from left to right across his chest, and the wound on his back likely exposed his very spine.