Puzzle Madness

Chapter 166 Autumn is the Hunting Season (Part Two)

Some have compared the air-raid shelters in Mong Cai to a civilian version of the Paris catacombs: this is undoubtedly an overstatement and an attempt to elevate the city, which is lacking in tourist attractions, by choosing the best among the worst.
There were neither piles of skulls nor human bones lying on the ground like dry firewood waiting to be picked up in the air-raid shelter. Not many people knew what was inside.

At most, it can only be described as a dried-up sewer; even if a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle lived here, it would have long since withered away inside its shell from boredom.

In the latter half of October, this underground world of Mong Cai City became different from usual, welcoming an increasing number of guests.

As November approached, Mong Cai finally showed some signs of true autumn: wearing a long-sleeved shirt on the street no longer drew strange looks from passersby; and skin no longer felt like wax, as if it would melt away in the sunlight.

In this grove on the outskirts of the city, the damp cold even mimicked the chill of early winter; there was a cement mound in the woods that looked like a grave, covered with some soil and stones.

In the center of the raised hill is a tunnel entrance—the iron gate has been removed, leaving only the entrance to the air-raid shelter and the graffiti that is gradually fading.

It was a rectangular patch of black: apart from the oddly colored, rough steps, nothing else could be seen; it was like a connection point to another world.

At this very moment, four people are standing in front of the dark entrance.

"Are we really going in today? This place is so damn eerie. We could also go to Changshan Beach, there are lots of girls there."

[Big Head Hong] said. As his name suggests, his head was like a round balloon; he wore a baseball cap, but the skin around his temples was so tight that it was red and swollen. If you didn't know better, you would think that a squash had become a spirit and had stolen a human's body to parasitize.

His face was taut, his eyes narrowed to slits; his features, almost magnified to scale, seemed to scream "resistance."

"Changshan Beach is under repair; it's been closed due to a gas explosion. It's been under repair for over a month, and it'll probably take another two months. If you want to see girls, you might as well go to Chiang Mai and find a nudist beach; the entire Koh Chang Autonomous Prefecture is very abstinent."

The man who spoke introduced himself as "[Eyeglasses Boy]". He did wear glasses and sometimes spoke a little Hakka. Eyeglasses Boy was also the only local from Mong Cai among them, but he was thin and short with dark tanned skin.

"Don't be a coward, brother; the locals have already said there's nothing to see on the beach. They're just here to see this. Otherwise, why don't you ask our friend if she wants to see her sister or come for an adventure? Right?"

Huang Youtian raised his hand and nudged Da Tou Hong with his elbow. He took off his T-shirt, slung it over his shoulder, and put one hand on it; his bare ribs and necklace were exposed.

Anyone could see the goosebumps on his thin body: the grove was colder than expected, and no one knew why this blond college student insisted on showing off his body.

Everyone else used pseudonyms, but he used his real name—or at least it sounded that way, since no one checked Huang Youtian's ID card.

The only girl, [Sour Soup Bak Kut Teh], peeked into the air-raid shelter; she carried a shoulder bag and was dressed fashionably. She seemed oblivious to any talk of nudity or looking at girls; her red eyes, adorned with full-contact lenses, were fixed on the deep tunnel.

"So many gas explosions in Mong Cai? Is there something wrong with the pipeline? I saw that your newly built building also had a gas explosion."

She suddenly took a large step and stepped onto the descending stairs; the thud of her thick-soled wedge heels echoed in the air-raid shelter.

"Let's go in and take a look first; anyway, this place won't be blown up."

They were pen pals, and most of them didn't live in the Cochin Autonomous Prefecture. Their correspondence wasn't very long, but shared interests and similar ages built a bridge that transcended geographical boundaries. Their acquaintance began with a magazine called *Super Psychological Exploration*—young people always find various ways to make friends, and hobby groups are naturally one of them.

Sending letters to make friends has become a relatively fashionable social activity in recent years: people send each other a few cassette tapes and make a few phone calls, and they are basically no different from old friends.

As they chatted, they hit it off and the idea of ​​visiting various unusual locations came to mind. Mong Cai was the best choice because it offered cheap accommodation and transportation, delicious local cuisine from the Cochin Autonomous Prefecture, and was also home to the editorial office of "Super Psychological Exploration."

The group turned on their prepared flashlights and carefully descended the steps: the bright beams of light illuminated very little dust.

The further they went in, the fewer traces of human activity they found—even though they were inside a giant man-made structure—the "I was here" and "I was here" signs on the walls gradually disappeared.

It seems that tourists or explorers who came to the Mong Cai air-raid shelter before rarely went too deep inside.

As their paces varied, the group gradually separated, with one foot following the other; puddles appeared on the ground, and their footsteps made a pattering sound.

Once you get used to the darkness and dampness, you actually feel a sense of security in hiding in the dark; no one speaks, and everyone's eyes follow the direction of the flashlight, looking left and right.

Only Big Head Hong lagged behind—he walked with his back hunched over, without using a flashlight, letting the rope wrapped around the axle fall behind him, marking the path he had taken.

I don't know where he pulled out such a big tool.

Huang Youtian finally felt cold and put his clothes back on; huddled in his t-shirt, he looked like a walking bamboo pole.
"Is it necessary to be so careful? This isn't some minotaur maze; there's a map on the wall."

He was right—although a long time had passed, the paint marks on the cement wall still remained as directional symbols.

Their plan was to enter the air-raid shelter from this end and exit from the other side of the mountain; according to their prior research, there should be a bookstore on the other side.

Big Head Hong was still slowly unwinding the rope in his hand, meter by meter, like Theseus clutching a ball of thread in the Minotaur's labyrinth:
“If we get lost, you’ll all have to call me Dad. It would be so embarrassing to die in a place like this. It would be better to die than to be on TV or something.”

Huang Youtian frowned and slapped Da Tou Hong on the back:

"Huh? Can you please stop using the word 'death' all the time?"

[Sour Soup Bak Kut Teh], whose pen name didn't quite match hers, walked at the front. She didn't turn her head, only observing:
"If you're afraid, don't come. If you come, don't be afraid. The editorial office of 'Super Psychological Exploration' is right here. They'll definitely just take material from the surrounding environment, embellish it, and publish it. There's no way there are any real demons or monsters."

The man with the eyepiece, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke up:
"If you think there's nothing strange here, why did you come all this way? I came here to see a real monster. This air-raid shelter is no ordinary place."

The person who made the [Sour Soup Bak Kut Teh] seems to be from Singapore. This time, they flew to the Autonomous Region of Cochinchina.

(End of this chapter)