Chapter Thirteen: The Manticore Beneath the Earth

In the darkness, a sudden fit of coughing broke the silence. Sun Licheng spat out a mouthful of black blood and awakened. He remembered only that he had fallen, locked in struggle with a wild boar, into a deep pit. Then came a series of ominous cracks, the ground beneath him fractured once more, and Sun Licheng, still grappling with the boar, continued to plummet.

This time, the descent was even deeper. Sun Licheng rolled as he fell, feeling as though there was no end to the abyss, as if he had plunged into the bottomless pit from "Journey to the West." During the fall, he was battered by obstacles on all sides, suffering grievous injuries. Before long, the boar’s tusks embedded in his body snapped. At first, Sun Licheng could clearly hear the boar’s agonized cries in the darkness, but the sounds faded, leaving only the thudding of flesh against stone. Remarkably, Sun Licheng did not lose consciousness throughout the fall.

After what seemed an eternity, he felt the emptiness beneath him and finally crashed onto the bottom of the pit.

“The height must be enormous,” Sun Licheng surmised, for he lost consciousness at last upon landing.

…

It was a pitch-black cavern, utterly devoid of light.

While Sun Licheng recovered, he heard things falling from above, whistling and crashing down with great noise. A sense of fear crept over him—he dreaded something smashing straight onto his head, an absurd fate.

Luckily, that fear did not materialize.

Though his goblin eyes were adapted to see in the dark and his senses were keen, even he could perceive nothing in such absolute darkness.

He groped around with his hands, confirming that he had landed atop a mountain of corpses. All he touched was either skeletal remains or rotting flesh.

Sun Licheng was ravenous; those things falling from above were likely other animals, and could be desperately needed food.

Perseverance paid off. As he continued to search, his hand grew damp. He brought it to his nose and licked it—blood.

Following the trail, he found a fresh corpse and sat down to gnaw at it, though he had no idea what manner of creature he consumed. Truly, it was dark. All those novels about traversing caves were lies; without light, you cannot see a thing. If you doubt it, try walking through a cave in a realistic lighting mod in Skyrim.

Revitalized, Sun Licheng resumed exploring. After an indeterminate time, apart from two more fresh carcasses, he stumbled upon his leather backpack. Overjoyed, he opened it in the dark. Even more fortunate, aside from his weapons, most of the contents remained intact.

A series of sharp stone strikes echoed, and then a burst of flame illuminated the cavern as Sun Licheng lit a torch from his pack. The cave revealed itself, and the massive wild boar that had dragged him into this ordeal lay not far off.

The cave spanned nearly two hundred square meters, with several large holes in the ceiling above. They vaguely resembled shattered pipes, eerie and unnatural. Sun Licheng guessed that he and the boar had fallen through one of these openings.

He searched the surroundings and found no exit, which unsettled him, though he quickly regained composure.

“It’s impossible that these holes are the only way in or out; otherwise the air in here wouldn’t smell so faint,” he reasoned. The peculiarity of the cave gave him hope for escape.

The cave had devoured countless beasts. Corpses piled high, covering the entire floor. Some had become mummies, others mere skeletons. Sun Licheng guessed the cave’s history must be ancient, as many bones had so thoroughly weathered that a mere touch reduced them to powder. Of course, there were fresh bodies too, including the wild boar he had battled.

After some time, Sun Licheng discovered a massive fissure that stretched from the cave floor to the roof. Peering into its depths, he saw nothing but darkness; half the body of a large animal protruded from the crack.

He tried, and found he could just barely squeeze inside. The leopard-like creature before him had discovered the fissure, but its size had trapped it, sealing its doom.

There were several such cracks, but this was the largest. Gusts of air blew through, and it was these currents that kept the cave from becoming completely suffocating.

Sun Licheng, now nerveless and unfazed—this was not his first time amidst piles of corpses—searched for his bone knife, but it was gone. He rummaged through the bodies and found a sharp fragment of bone, using it as a makeshift blade to skin two animal mummies. He smeared them with grease from his supplies, kindled a small bonfire, and preserved his only torch for emergencies. Luckily, dry pelts abounded for fuel.

The pelts crackled in the flames, releasing an acrid stench. Sun Licheng prepared to make his escape.

He salted strips of meat from the wild boar and other fresh bodies for provisions.

During this process, he discovered a yellow crystal the size of a cherry tomato in the boar’s skull. Inspired, he searched the corpse pile for magic crystals. There were many bodies, far larger and fiercer than those from the animal graveyard he’d seen before. After some searching, Sun Licheng found nearly twenty crystals of various kinds. Each creature capable of producing such crystals had been formidable, now all dead in this small cave—a sobering thought.

Time passed swiftly, the stench from the bonfire thickened, and the flames consumed the cave’s oxygen, making the air increasingly oppressive.

Sun Licheng knew he could wait no longer. Fortunately, his preparations were nearly complete. He stuffed as many meat strips as possible into his backpack, devouring the rest so as not to waste precious food.

With a last look around by firelight, Sun Licheng dragged out the corpse blocking the fissure and resolutely pushed his backpack into the crack, crawling in after it.

…

Inside the fissure, darkness prevailed. The stone walls were coarse and rough, with sections so narrow that Sun Licheng had to laboriously chip away at them with his bone knife to squeeze through. His pelts, torn from the earlier battle and fall, now hindered his movement, so he discarded them.

He crawled for a long time, eating three times en route. Just as despair threatened, he heard the sound of running water ahead and hurried his pace.

At last, his backpack fell ahead, and he carefully controlled its descent until it came to rest. To his delight, the ground was not far below the exit.

Emerging from the fissure, Sun Licheng was finally able to stand upright. Ignoring his aches, he retrieved his torch and lit it.

By torchlight, he surveyed his surroundings. He had entered a vast pit, nearly ten meters deep and twenty meters across. An underground river flowed through the center, and fantastic stalactites and stalagmites hung from the ceiling, dazzling in the torchlight.

Sun Licheng walked to the river’s edge. The water was shallow and slow, and silvery fish, half a meter long, swam within it.

After days of eating salted meat, Sun Licheng’s mouth watered at the sight of the plump fish. As he prepared to catch one, a ferocious roar echoed nearby.

At that moment, the deity in Sun Licheng’s mind shouted, “I know where this is. That fool has walked right into a trap.”

The deity tried to warn Sun Licheng, but the latter seemed oblivious. Only then did the deity remember that they had never communicated directly, like two incompatible decoders unable to share data. Realization sent a cold sweat trickling down the deity’s back.

Indeed, most of life’s pitfalls are of one’s own making. The deity had forgotten that it was he who had lowered Sun Licheng’s luck attribute; who else could he blame?

…

Sun Licheng spun around, torch in hand, and saw a monster materialize in the cave.

This beast was massive, nearly three meters tall, its body dark red. It bore the head of a lion, with two wild boar-like tusks protruding from its mouth. On its back were two bat-like wings pressed close to its spine, and its tail was that of a giant scorpion, tipped with a venomous stinger that glinted menacingly. The lion fixed Sun Licheng with eyes like bronze bells, their cold light flashing.

Since becoming a goblin, Sun Licheng had realized this was a world of magic, though surface creatures had seemed mostly normal. This was his first encounter with a magical beast so utterly alien to Earth, leaving him momentarily stunned.

The raging lion wasted no time, charging to attack.

Sun Licheng, battle-hardened, sprang nimbly to the right as the lion drew near.

But before he could rejoice at evading the assault, he felt a piercing pain in his waist, as if stabbed by an iron spike, agony flooding his mind.

The lion had driven its scorpion tail deep into his side. It injected venom, and Sun Licheng quickly collapsed, paralyzed.

The lion showed no interest in eating him; it flicked its tail and flung Sun Licheng into the underground river, where he was swiftly submerged.

The victorious lion roared, shaking the entire pit, sending sand and stones raining down.