Our excitement was instantly extinguished by the strange camp in front of us. We exchanged glances, and I felt like crying; I was just too exhausted to handle any more unexpected events. Suddenly, I felt like I was going crazy, as if the forest was trying to drive me mad.

The fat guy was much stronger mentally than I was. He set down Panzi, letting him lean against a rock, and urged me to follow him inside to investigate. The fog had dissipated around us, and he picked up a rock to use as a weapon. We cautiously approached the tents, entering the camp area.

Once inside, I realized just how well-prepared my uncle had been this time. I saw a generator, a stove, and even a large sunshade. Underneath the sunshade was a flat boulder, on top of which were many documents weighed down by stones. I noticed a few toothbrushes placed on a nearby stone, and on the other side, the guy ropes between two tents were tied together with vines, with clothes hanging on them. It looked like a makeshift living area.

Everything seemed normal—there were no signs of a struggle, no blood, but also no people, as if the camp’s occupants had just gone hiking.

In the middle of the camp, we found a huge bonfire pile, now completely reduced to ash. Among the ashes, we discovered remnants of smoke signals; it was clear that the signal smoke had originated from here. The smoke we saw yesterday had risen from this very spot.

The tent flaps were all open, revealing that no one was inside. We could even smell the musty odor of unwashed feet coming from within.

We tiptoed around, finding nothing, and exchanged looks of confusion. I recalled the color of the signal smoke I had seen earlier. Panzi had mentioned that red smoke signals meant “do not approach,” which clearly indicated that something had happened here. I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me; where had these people gone? What had happened here?

The unsettling feeling was hard to suppress. If we had sufficient supplies and energy, I might have decided to leave immediately and find a safe spot nearby to observe carefully. But now, we were barely hanging on, and I really didn’t want to leave this place only to trek again. Panzi’s condition made it impossible for him to do so; he needed immediate care.

Under the sunshade, the fat guy found a pack of cigarettes. Unable to resist, he lit one up, but he was so exhausted that after a couple of puffs, he couldn’t keep it up. I took a few puffs as well; the tobacco provided some medicinal value at that moment, helping me to relax a bit.

Then, we immediately lifted Panzi into one of the tents. Inside, I saw two backpacks. This tent was quite large, capable of sleeping at least four people. There were various items scattered on the waterproof tarp inside, such as flashlights and watches, all left behind. I even spotted an MP3 player, but there were no lights to be found. I thought to myself, could the small generator outside be for charging this? That seemed like such a waste.

Inside, we could finally relax. We stripped Panzi of all his clothes and removed the remaining ticks. The fat guy rummaged through one person’s backpack and found a small medical box. He used the alcohol inside to disinfect Panzi’s wounds again, and then he searched through the tents in the camp, finding a box of needles and threads to stitch up Panzi’s deep wounds.

Panzi had already woken up, dazed and confused, not sure if he was fully conscious. When the fat guy inserted the needle, Panzi’s face visibly contorted, but he didn’t struggle too much.

Seeing how deftly the fat guy stitched the wounds, I was surprised and said, “What did you do before? You have these skills.”

“I told you before, but you always forget. I went to the countryside during the ‘Up to the Mountains and Down to the Countryside Movement.’ Who doesn’t know how to sew? No dad to beat me, no mom to care for me, so I had to take care of myself,” he replied. “But this is the first time I’ve stitched human skin. Should I sew some patterns on it? Otherwise, won’t this guy think it’s too plain?”

I knew he was joking and gave a few dry laughs to indicate that it wasn’t funny at all. Looking at Panzi, I couldn’t help but feel fortunate that although the giant python was incredibly strong, its teeth were small. Even with such serious injuries, it hadn’t hit any vital spots; he had just lost too much blood, and it wouldn’t be easy for him to recover. Looking at the naked Panzi, covered in scars, I suddenly realized the origins of those scars. Every time he went out, it must have been a life-or-death situation. No wonder Uncle Three relied on him so much; this guy truly didn’t care about his life when it came to doing things.

However, perhaps it was precisely this way of working that allowed him to survive every time despite being severely injured, I thought.

The fat guy said to me, “This is called a self-destructive tendency. I understand it well. I have a close friend who was also on the battlefield, and everyone in his squad died, and they died horribly. After he got discharged, he couldn’t recover, always pondering why it wasn’t him who died at that time, as if his survival meant someone else was expelled. When we were out digging, he would throw himself into dangerous situations, trying to find a way to get himself killed. Such people need someone to care about them; otherwise, they’ll really do anything.”

I didn’t have such profound experiences, so I couldn’t fully understand what the fat guy was saying. However, noticing that his hands were shaking a bit, I told him to stop talking and focus on stitching.

The two of us stitched for nearly an hour before finally closing the wounds. Our hands were covered in blood, and after disinfecting Panzi’s wounds again, the fat guy finally sighed in relief. At this point, Panzi fell back into a deep sleep.

We stepped out of the tent and had to sit down to rest. The fat guy didn’t fully relax; he immediately looked around and said, “Something feels off here. I think we should clean up while we can; we can’t stay here for long.”

I nodded and tried to stand up, but as soon as I moved, I realized I really couldn’t walk. Not a single muscle in my body would respond to my commands. The fat guy moved a bit too and clearly couldn’t walk either. We exchanged bitter smiles and sighed together.

To be honest, we were completely exhausted. Even if there were urgent matters at hand, I probably wouldn’t be able to stand up. Both mentally and physically, we had exceeded the limits of fatigue and were utterly unusable.

I hope this translation meets your needs!

Seeing me motionless, the fat man gave a wry smile and said that going back into the jungle now would probably be unsafe. Rather than being done in at a damp and cold place, he would prefer to die here, listening to this MP3, which would be fitting for someone of his stature in the treasure-hunting world.

This had a bit of an Ah Q spirit to it, but I nodded, sincerely. Although I had experienced a few exhausting situations before, this time was particularly severe. Mainly, we had already expended too much energy and strength crossing the vast Gobi Desert before entering here. We were already very tired before entering the canyon, and afterward, we were just pushing through. The feeling of discovering that the journey had just begun after such a long trek was extremely despairing. But what was even more terrifying was that I knew if I survived, the journey back would be the real test. Now, even if Ah Ning’s walkie-talkie really existed, we wouldn’t be able to get it. So everything that followed would be a complete nightmare.

Thinking about these things gave me a splitting headache, and I really didn’t want to dwell on them.

After resting for a moment, we boiled some tea and ate a bit of dry food. Then we took off all our clothes. Once the clothes were off, they couldn’t be put back on; any hole we could find was bigger than the cuffs of our pants, so we had to discard them and just found a few pieces to change into that were drying in the sun. Looking at my legs, they were all marked with bloodstains from thorns. Fortunately, they were all superficial wounds; they stung when they touched water, but there was no risk of infection.

What was disgusting were the ticks; there were none on the front of my legs, all concentrated in the hollows behind my knees, having gorged themselves on blood. The fat man brought over a special spray to kill the ticks. When he sprayed it, all the ticks fell off. I wanted to squish them, but he said that might attract more. So we swept them all into the stove, where they crackled as they burned.

The tea made from my own blood smelled particularly fragrant. I drank a bit and washed my feet and wounds. My muscles, which had become completely numb, finally began to feel something—soreness, weakness, and itching; I felt everything. I couldn’t even stand up, so I had to scoot along using my butt.

Last night, I was the only one who slept for a while. So even though I was desperately tired, I let the fat man sleep first and leaned against a nearby rock to keep watch.

At this moment, the sun was shining brightly, and the entire ruins were clearly laid out before us. The surroundings were windless and quiet, and the whole valley seemed as still as if it were frozen. I figured the fat man must also be unable to sleep, but unexpectedly, in less than a second after leaning against the rock, he began to snore like thunder, not even putting out his cigarette, which he had fallen asleep with in his mouth.

I took his cigarette to smoke myself, shaking my head with a wry smile. At that moment, I felt like I was about to fall asleep too. I immediately forced myself to stay alert, trying hard not to let myself doze off, but it was no use; as long as I sat still, my eyelids felt as heavy as lead.

As dawn faded, the sun became scorching. I took a few deep breaths and hid under the sunshade, forcing myself to start organizing my backpack. At that moment, I saw Wen Jin’s notebook stuffed at the very bottom.

Afraid that this precious notebook would get damaged during such a harsh trek, I wrapped it in my own pair of socks. Ever since entering the canyon, plans had gone awry, and I hadn’t had a chance to take a closer look at it. Now, reflecting on it, I felt that the contents of this notebook would be of little help.

Perhaps it has been a few years since Wen Jin came here. Although a decade or two is indeed a very short time in the history of this ancient city, it is long enough for the environment here. After more than twenty years, the trees here have probably grown in a completely different way.

Wen Jin wrote, “There are many snakes here.” She wasn’t lying to us. However, I feel that her description was too brief. There is so much more to say about these snakes, but she only noted their abundance. Could it be that she lacks insight?

The notes contain a lot of information about their journey through the rainforest, and I could take a closer look to see if there’s anything that could help us. After this thought, my mind went blank as I focused solely on how to get out of here, so I flipped to the last part of the notes.

However, I was extremely tired, and the words were blurring together. I had to splash some water on my eyes and force myself to stay alert. After flipping through a few pages, I just couldn’t hold on anymore; reading felt like a hypnotic experience, so I set the notes down and tried to clear my mind, but my consciousness began to dim irreversibly.

Just as I was about to fall asleep, I vaguely heard a soft voice, as if Panzi was calling me: “Little Third Master.”

I was startled awake, thinking Panzi needed something. I immediately rubbed my eyes and painfully propped myself up, only to find the surroundings very quiet, with no sound at all.

I thought to myself, “Oh no, I’m so tired I’m hearing things.” I quickly pressed on my temples, but then I heard a very faint voice again, sounding like laughter or perhaps a complaint, coming from deep within the camp.

I jolted, thinking, “Are they back?” I immediately ran outside, but saw no one inside. I called out “Hey” and walked around the large tents, but saw nothing.

How strange? I slapped my head; the silence around me was unsettling.

After standing there for a while without anything happening, I walked back, sat down in my original spot, took a few deep breaths, and lit a cigarette, thinking that maybe my mind was just playing tricks on me.

But then I realized I wasn’t imagining things. I noticed several muddy footprints on the stone in front of me, trailing from a distance to where I was sitting. They hadn’t been there before.

I became alert and looked around, noticing that the large stone holding the documents also had a lot of mud on it, clearly indicating that something had leaned against it. Then I discovered that the position of Wen Jin’s notes had changed, and there was mud on them.

In an instant, all my drowsiness vanished, and I stood up immediately.

Who did this? So many muddy footprints—could it be Wen Jin? Did she see her notes and flip through them? Or was it that creature that seemed to be An Ning?

I looked around and saw no one, so I went to check the footprints, which led straight into Panzi’s tent. I felt a surge of anxiety and quickly picked up a stone, heading towards the fat guy, wanting to wake him up.

Waking him up wasn’t easy; I shook him a few times with no response, and not daring to make too much noise, I gritted my teeth and made my way towards the tent.

The tent was slightly ajar, and as I approached, I saw a muddy handprint on the nylon door flap, and I immediately swallowed hard.

Taking a deep breath, I imagined the process. I would push aside the curtain and rush in, shouting loudly. If that person lunged at me, I would hit her with a rock. At that moment, I suddenly felt that the rock wasn’t very suitable, but there was no time to find another one. I took another deep breath, gritted my teeth, and dove into the tent. Sure enough, I saw a person covered in mud squatting in front of Panzi.

I shouted and was about to pounce when I saw that person turn their head. I froze for a moment, and on that mud-covered face, I recognized a pair of incredibly familiar eyes. It was actually the Muffled Oil Bottle.