He had to force himself to keep thinking about different things, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to endure it.
Eventually, he thought of what Wan Boqian had said before she left: “If you like someone, go find them. Don’t just wait where you are.”
What a beautiful sentiment. If someone were waiting for him outside, he would probably run like Wan Boqian, too, right? At most, she’d be like a beautiful unicorn, and he’d be like a strong porcupine, holding tight to the girl waiting for him, saying confidently, “I’ve returned from hell for you! I fought the dealer with all my strength! In the end, escaping alive with a royal flush was all thanks to the charm you gave me! If we don’t promise ourselves to each other now, when will we? Come on, my chivalrous lady, what are we waiting for? Let’s kiss!”
But there wasn’t anyone.
Come to think of it, it shouldn’t have been him escaping the labyrinth. Among the four of them, his life was the least valuable. If Gao Ming and Wan Boqian had escaped, they could’ve gotten married, right? If Zhao Menghua made it out, there’d be Liu Miaomiao and Chen Wenwen to save, both crying over him. If he escaped, what could he do? If he got stuck here, maybe Finger would be a bit sad.
Damn it! Thinking about these things really made him feel pumped! He was no longer afraid of whatever monsters or demons might be lurking in the dark! Look at this pathetic life of his; he was like a dead pig unafraid of boiling water, tempting fate. Come on! A life without meaning is carefree!
Suddenly, he couldn’t feel the tunnel wall anymore and fell face-first into a pile of coal residue.
He raised his head, seeing nothing but golden specks drifting in a vast darkness—no end in sight, no walls to be seen. He entered an enormous space, like an ant crawling into St. Peter’s Basilica in the dead of night. Those golden specks seemed like fireflies, and in their dim light, he could see dozens of parallel tracks beneath him. The railway had turned into a spiderweb-like structure, originally designed to store military trains carrying heavy tanks. Now, there were only rusted tracks left.
He had reached the end of the subway line, the end of the labyrinth.
He crossed one sleeper after another, stumbling through the massive space, panting heavily. At last, he saw a wall carved by human hands, marked with machinery scars. Adjacent to the rock wall was a spindle-shaped cement platform, resembling a pier extending into the sea, seemingly used for train maintenance.
Lu Mingfei climbed onto the platform, feeling along the rock wall, slapping at it in frustration. Damn it, there wasn’t even a hint of a door. Judging by how solid the wall was, he was probably deep inside a mountain, and digging a passage through it would be a colossal undertaking.
Damn, could this all have been a trick? He muttered to himself.
Suddenly, a yellow light flickered on the rock wall, flashing slowly. Lu Mingfei’s spirits lifted—maybe he’d accidentally triggered some mechanism to open the door. He strained to look at the light flickering above, but it was too high for him to see clearly. The sturdy rock wall began to tremble. Cracks appeared from top to bottom, and Lu Mingfei’s face paled—the way this door was opening looked like the Gold Saints breaking the Wall of Lamentations in Saint Seiya, as if Hades himself might come charging out.
The entire wall was crisscrossed with cracks, pieces of rock falling, and dust filled the air. Lu Mingfei covered his face, stepping back cautiously. The yellow light wobbled as if it was about to fall, with rock fragments peeling away around it. He glanced up, and a chill ran down his spine— that yellow light was looking at him!
How could a light be looking at him? What a sinister and eerie gaze!
Before he could turn and run, the rock wall shattered completely, and something serpentine slithered out of the crack, covered in scales. The yellow light was the eye of a giant serpent!
Mai and Chips both stood up, involuntarily taking a step back.
Dragons were an abstract concept to hybrids. Very few had ever seen a true ancient dragon, and these creatures had the ability to completely alter their skeletal structure to disguise themselves. Because of this, in ancient texts, dragons were sometimes depicted as winged quadrupeds, sometimes as beautiful naga, or even as horned serpents. When artists were instructed on how to draw a dragon, it was said to be “one antler like a deer, two eyes like a shrimp, three draw a dog’s nose, four a bull’s mouth, five a lion’s mane, six fish scales, seven draw a snake’s body, eight flames, and nine draw a rooster’s feet to finish the dragon.” In short, they were nine things in one.
But now all disguises had been stripped away, and this ancient relic, with its ferocious, magnificent, and razor-sharp appearance, was exposed to the world.
It was a true dragon, with its long neck breaking through the rock wall first.
No words could describe the ancient, majestic body of the dragon. It was clearly a reptile, yet far more beautiful than any reptile. It was a dark beauty, a grandeur, and a profoundness that demanded awe. Blue-black scales opened and closed from front to back, making the sound of metal clashing. Its face, full of bony protrusions, bore a regal expression. It looked down on Lu Mingfei, spread its vast black wings, and roared sharply.
Lu Mingfei clutched his ears tightly, feeling as though his heart had stopped. He couldn’t help but admire the heroes of old who dared stand against such creatures and even draw their swords.
What he didn’t know was that, at such a close distance, even the legendary dragon-slaying heroes would have half the chance of dying from heart failure. The fact that he could still stand there in shock was already remarkable.
The dragon’s long snake-like neck suddenly contracted. Its claws scraped the ground, cautiously backing into a corner. It lowered its head almost to the floor, cautiously watching Lu Mingfei, letting out a low growl.
Huh? Lu Mingfei was bewildered. Was this necessary? Would you observe an ant closely before squashing it? There was no need to consider the best angle to bite—Lu Mingfei was just a bite-sized snack to the dragon, like a piece of meat on a skewer, barely enough for half a meal even if it swallowed him whole.
He didn’t dare to move, remembering what he’d read in survival books: if a wild beast confronts you, never run. It’s observing you, and if you run, it’ll know you’re scared and come after you.
But was a dragon just a wild beast? This was an intelligent creature, after all. Cassell College’s books referred to dragons as “he” or “she,” like humans.
The dragon’s golden eyes narrowed slightly, like a cat’s pupils. Lu Mingfei was startled, suddenly realizing what the creature’s stance resembled—it was a cat! A giant cat as heavy as a blue whale!
The dragon swayed its long neck, slowly approaching Lu Mingfei. He stood straight like a pencil stuck into the platform. Running was useless—its long neck was like that of the prehistoric anaconda from Anaconda. A simple stretch and retract, and even a cheetah couldn’t escape. The dragon slowly opened its mouth, teeth like spearheads, its long black tongue licking Lu Mingfei from head to toe.