Puzzle Madness

Chapter 178 Autumn is the Hunting Season (Part Fourteen)
The woman, patting herself on the sour soup with bak kut teh, tore open the hem of her T-shirt, pulled off two strips of fabric to wrap around her feet, and slipped them back into her thick-soled wedge heels.
In retrospect, the idea of ​​going barefoot to increase escape speed wasn't very wise; but there's no time to complain now.

Eyeglasses followed closely behind Ai Xi, almost step by step.

Only Huang Youtian hadn't followed them. He bent down and grabbed Da Tou Hong's dark red, foul-smelling feet with both hands. Not only blood, but other filth was trickling from his body:
"Alright, you guys go first. I want to take him—and Big Head Hong—out with me."

"We can't let his body stay here to be eaten or made into something disgusting: he, he's my buddy—he might still be able to be saved once we get out."

"Ha, if he's alive, he can't keep cursing me. Right now, he keeps calling me ungrateful."

The staggering Bak Kut Teh (sour soup) vendor raised an eyebrow—Huang Youtian's ravings had clearly piqued her curiosity:

"Things? What are you going to make them into? What do you mean?"

She had been at the front of the line and hadn't seen the scene where the guy with the eyepiece was smashed by the shriveled corpse.

Hearing the loud slurping of the sour soup bak kut teh, even the guy with glasses stopped. He held his back with one hand and gripped the wall with the other; his brow was still furrowed.

"That monster—it hollows out people and turns them into rag dolls or specimens. When it was running away just now, it used a dried-up corpse to smash me away."

He carefully moved his waist, occasionally grimacing; he had clearly injured his muscles and bones when he was knocked away during his escape.

"Huang Youtian, you don't need to. Forget it, do what you want. But be careful, who knows if that monster will think—think you're stealing its prey?"

The woman, limping and tiptoeing, reached past the man with the goggles and snatched second place in line, muttering under her breath:
"Don't try to persuade him. It's fine for him to stay behind: the monster will definitely come from behind. And he's a bit, a bit—hey, you should be able to tell."

She did not try to suppress her voice, but Huang Youtian ignored her; he was expressionless and his movements as he dragged Da Tou Hong's body were somewhat rough.

So the group continued onward—trying to catch up with Ai Xi's resounding footsteps.

Everyone felt tired and hungry; but time seemed to stand still underground. The stars might have already appeared in the sky, but they clearly could not see them; only weariness and fear were seeping into their very being.
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Bang, bang, bang
Big Head Hong's head, split in two, slammed against the steps again and again, leaving a wet trail in its wake.

After descending about thirty steps, his remaining brain completely shattered, and fragments slid into the cracks of the concrete; but only Huang Youtian could see this horrific scene.

Huang Youtian went downstairs backwards, his hands gripping Da Tou Hong's feet; his back was heaving, and it was unclear what he was thinking.

The remaining people did not turn around—the sound of that wet yet hard impact alone was enough to send chills down one's spine.

Unlike the ramp leading into the trapezoidal room, this staircase is the opposite: it gets wider and wider as you go up.

Before long, they entered the new room.

"Oh, it seems we've gone quite deep into this."

Ai Xi said.

Unlike the previous rooms, this one showed signs of fresh human activity—in fact, a great deal.

Building materials were scattered on the ground: there were uninstalled water pipes and steel bars waiting to be welded. Next to the wheeled operating table was an instrument tray, but it did not contain neatly arranged surgical tools.

Undeterred, the sour soup bak kut teh vendor stepped forward and searched thoroughly, but found nothing. In the end, he could only grab the entire tray in his hand, perhaps intending to use it as a shield.

The flashlight no longer casts a cloud of dust like before; the hygiene here is also very meticulous, although it is far from meeting the standards required for surgery.

There was even an oil-fired generator in the corner. It wasn't turned on, but its surface was gleaming: it must have been recently moved in as well.

They continued their advance stealthily through the unfinished area.

To the left and right are several steel gates; only at eye level are there square observation windows, and by pulling open the mottled iron plates, one can see everything inside.

Inside was an overturned bucket, full of dried filth. Several dark red and blackened bed sheets lay scattered on the floor, reeking of a foul, fishy stench—a smell they had grown accustomed to. But the rooms were empty: each room was identical, holding the last moments of someone's life.

No matter who the unfortunate people who once lay here are no longer among them.

Now, no one doubts Ash's theory of a serial killer anymore—in fact, their minds are completely blank.

This dungeon hidden in an air-raid shelter has such a classic design that it's almost cliché, like a movie scene directly copied from some documentary.

The sour soup bak kut teh, with its clear, trembling voice, stated the obvious truth:

"...The cell—this is the cell. It holds...the victims—where have they all gone?"

No one responded, but the question was quickly answered.

They thought these few cages were the bottom line, but soon they arrived at the exhibition hall.

A circle of gold and red ceremonial ropes forms the center of a strange, gigantic skeleton.

It consists of disassembled body parts: human bones are completely removed from the body and then reassembled outside the body.

But it wasn't the kind of skeleton model you see in a school infirmary—multiple corpses were pieced together to form a shape far more robust and tall than a normal human.

The forearm alone has three radius bones and three ulna bones, and based on their thickness and length, two of them are femur bones.

However, the assembly is not yet complete, because the human skeleton only consists of the upper body; there is nothing behind the lumbar vertebrae, and the head is made up of several skulls connected together with wire, squeezed into a giant head full of pits.

"This person is very skilled. They might work in the medical field."

Ai Xi, hands in his pockets, commented with interest—but the rest remained silent. They had become numb from the relentless onslaught.
The boy with the glasses was rubbing his waist, grimacing, his clothes already soaked with sweat; the boy with sour soup and bak kut teh looked down at the thick-soled wedge heels whose surface was gradually turning red.

Huang Youtian, like a frightened dog, turned his head back and forth, his gaze sweeping over the terrifying giant skeleton again and again.

In the corner, there was a pile of clothes and personal items that had not yet been sorted—not many shoes, but they were piled up into a small mound; three or five backpacks leaned against the wall, zipped up.

Some of the clothes were stained with blood, while others were covered in stains of other colors: marks left by vomit or incontinence.

Several tanned leather bags hung on the wall: five in total, completely naked. They were light brown in color, somewhat resembling cowhide; over time, they would darken due to oxidation. The seven orifices were all sealed with stitches.

There were also empty large picture frames on the wall, wrapped in foam paper and still unopened—all long and narrow rectangles, seemingly perfect for holding these treated skins.

They realized:

This is a collection room, and the collection consists of corpses. It seems to be in its early stages; the water and electricity systems are not yet fully operational.

It's not luxurious, and even a bit rudimentary—but it's meticulously built, and you can tell the owner put a lot of thought into it. From processing and storage to exhibition space, everything has been planned out.

It's like trying to build a museum in a garage: not expecting many visitors or ticket revenue, but still full of passion for the collection and works.
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Huang Youtian lagged behind the group. He looked down at his toes, sweat dripping from his hair—his gaze had been shifting back and forth between Big Head Hong and the strange skeleton.

He no longer walked backwards, pulling Big Head Hong forward with both hands; instead, he dragged Big Head Hong's ankle with one hand and put the other hand in his pocket, making him drag on the concrete behind him as if pulling a trailer, laborious and rough.

After examining the strange skeleton, Huang Youtian kept muttering to himself. One hand was clenched in his pocket, seemingly rummaging for something; and his voice grew louder until everyone could hear him:

"I...I understand."

(End of this chapter)