Corpse Retriever

Li Zhuiyuan was just about to speak up and give a warning, but the words barely reached his throat before a probe team member suddenly shot up into the air.

Everyone gasped in shock and looked up, beams from numerous flashlights slicing through the dark. In the chaos, they saw only a massive body rising high into the air, thrashing wildly.

The scene instantly collapsed into chaos.

The towering form came crashing down, and those lantern-sized eyes sliced two arcs of red light across the night sky—then lunged straight toward the cave.

It all happened far too fast, far too sudden. Some of the probe team members outside were frozen in place with fear; others fell and flailed on the ground, knees too weak to lift them back up. Screams and shouts broke out, purely instinctual.

In any other emergency, this group—accustomed to fieldwork and reasonably well-organized—might not have panicked like this. But confronted with a thing like that emerging from the midnight darkness, being terrified out of one’s wits was the only natural response.

By contrast, Li Zhuiyuan and his three companions—having already experienced multiple bizarre events—handled it better. While the others were still paralyzed by confusion, Runsheng had already reached out to grab Li Zhuiyuan’s arm, preparing to carry him. Xue Liangliang and Tan Wenbin pulled each other up for support.

Logically speaking, they should’ve had the best shot at dodging or fleeing. But those two massive “lanterns” ignored everyone else on the riverbank and charged straight toward them.

This was its cave—and it was coming home.

Trapped inside the cave, the four had no way out. Staying would mean being swallowed or crushed to death.Runsheng threw Li Zhuiyuan on his back and turned to run deeper into the cave. Tan Wenbin and Xue Liangliang followed close behind. The four of them reached the pit inside the cave—and, without hesitation, jumped in together.

In the moment of the leap, Runsheng pulled Li Zhuiyuan in front of him, wrapping his arms around the boy to shield him, using his own body as a cushion.

Perhaps because that thing frequently passed through, the tunnel walls had been smoothed down by repeated contact—almost polished. The four slid down the slope like they were on a slide, hurtling downward at breakneck speed.

Behind them came a screech like truck tires skidding on slick pavement, followed by the entire tunnel beginning to shake violently.

Protected by Runsheng, Li Zhuiyuan was able to glance behind. The giant red lanterns were still there, right on their heels. Below them, barely visible beneath the dangling legs, was the probe team member who had first been grabbed.

Then Li Zhuiyuan heard something—wind, roaring up from below.

That meant the tunnel was ending, and the space below was empty. They were probably going to fall to their deaths.

But at this point, there were no other options. It wasn’t just that there was no way to slow their descent—trying would only get them swallowed.

And if he had to choose his own ending, well… better to die in a fall than get eaten.

The sensation of weightlessness hit. The four shot out of the tunnel—then plummeted downward.

Even mid-fall, Li Zhuiyuan kept looking up. At the exit where they had emerged, the red lanterns had stopped. They hovered there at the tunnel mouth, not following.

Just like that, the twin lanterns shrank and blurred in his vision.

“Splash! Splash! Splash!”

The sound of bodies hitting water, one after another.

Li Zhuiyuan felt a sharp sting in his back from the water’s impact, but also let out a breath of relief. He knew they’d bought themselves some time—because two people in their group were excellent swimmers.

He didn’t struggle, only cooperated. Runsheng quickly grabbed him and swam to one side. Though the undercurrent was deep, it wasn’t wide. Soon, the two reached the shore.

“Xiaoyuan, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Runsheng ge, you?”

“I’m thick-skinned.”

Li Zhuiyuan took out his flashlight, gave it a few hard taps, and turned it back on.

Each member of the probe team had one of these waterproof flashlights, strapped to their bodies and nearly impossible to lose unless under extreme conditions. The only issue: the things were clunky and unreliable. But the fix was simple—just bash them against a rock.

Click. Click. Click.

Li Zhuiyuan flicked the light repeatedly.

A moment later, a matching pattern blinked back from across the water.

The underground river was loud and echoed heavily. Yelling across the distance was useless.

Li Zhuiyuan flashed his light twice with a long pause between—the code for “two people here.” The other side responded with the same signal. Xue Liangliang and Tan Wenbin had made it ashore too.

He waved the beam of his flashlight to signal: no rush to regroup—check your surroundings first.

A beam on the opposite bank waved in reply: got it.

It wasn’t exactly formal code. Communication relied on shared understanding.

Next, Li Zhuiyuan began examining the area around them with his flashlight. To save power, Runsheng’s light stayed off for now. Same on the opposite side—only one beam per group.

This side of the riverbank wasn’t narrow at all—in fact, it was quite spacious. From the rock wall to the water’s edge was easily over ten meters in most places.

But the issue was the rock face—it was unnaturally smooth, like a giant mirror. Runsheng tried climbing it barehanded, but had to give up. No way to get a grip.

Li Zhuiyuan wasn’t disappointed. After all, that thing was up there somewhere. Even if they could climb out, they might run right into it.

Then a new signal came from the other side: rapid flashes followed by a vertical wave.

“Runsheng ge, Liangliang ge found something. Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

But just as Li Zhuiyuan was about to reattach the flashlight to his body, the beam swept across a human figure.

Next Chapter >>>