Chapter 115: Wu Jianxue

The crowd was packed three layers deep, inside and out. Damin and Brother Long were completely unable to move; there was truly no escape.

Undoubtedly, the two of them had been captured.

They were not brought directly before the black-robed High Priest, but were instead locked away. The structure was made of reinforced concrete yet decorated to look like piled stone, giving it a quaint, primitive, and somewhat aesthetic appeal.

In stark contrast to the beauty of the building, Damin and Brother Long were suffering miserably. Once locked in by this inexplicable group of people, no one paid them any mind. That might have been bearable, but who the hell could have guessed that this building was actually a water dungeon?

Bound by iron chains, the two were submerged in cold water. The highland nights were exceptionally frigid, causing them to shiver uncontrollably as they huddled together for warmth. But even then, the biting chill of the water was unbearable.

They somehow managed to endure the night. By noon the next day, men finally came to haul them out of the water. Before they could even catch a breath of fresh air, they were dragged to a place resembling a bathhouse.

Their clothes were forcibly stripped away, and they were tossed into a large pool filled with water at a perfectly comfortable, lukewarm temperature.

"What is wrong with these people? Have they suddenly developed a conscience and realized they caught the wrong guys? Are they letting us take a hot bath as compensation for soaking in ice water all night?"

"You're overthinking it! Haven't you seen how it goes in the movies? Prisoners are treated to good food and drink before execution. I suspect they have no good intentions! We’d better make the most of this bath and warm ourselves up while there’s no one around. My legs feel like they don't even belong to me anymore after that night!"

They soaked comfortably for a while, but just as Zhang Xingmin had suspected, a group of people soon arrived. They were all wearing balaclavas, leaving only their eyes and noses visible, making it impossible to identify them. One thing was certain: they were all men, and they were incredibly strong.

They roughly pinned Zhang Xingmin and Yang Dalong down and began smearing a substance over their bodies. It had a peculiar fragrance; it felt cool at first, but soon began to heat up. It wasn't exactly painful, but it was deeply uncomfortable. Before long, they rinsed Damin and Long off with a hose, all the while muttering in a language the two could not understand.

Zhang Xingmin felt like a fish waiting to be cooked. Brother Long, on the other hand, simply closed his eyes, enjoying the specialized service.

These people were certainly not that kind; they were no bathhouse attendants. Once their task was finished, they hurried away, leaving the oblivious Damin and Brother Long behind.

It was only after they left that the two realized their bodies had been transformed. Every strand of hair on their bodies—save for their hair and eyebrows—was gone, including every last trace of their beards.

"What is the meaning of this?" Brother Long asked, confused.

"It must be for a sacrifice," Zhang Xingmin speculated. "It is said that some Indian tribes, when struck by catastrophe, would offer healthy young boys as blood sacrifices to pray for the protection of the gods."

Brother Long suddenly realized! Could it be that they were going to be passed off as young virgins to be offered to those ancient, immortal beings in the heavens and the underworld? He had to find a way to escape; he wasn't ready to die yet.

Escape proved impossible, and soon enough, someone came for them. This time, it was a polite invitation. Their captors were courteous and even brought them two loose, long-sleeved robes to wear, stating that they were to meet someone important.

After a long time, they finally reached their destination. Throughout the journey, no one spoke a word. Damin and Long dared not ask or say anything, and they never found an opportunity to flee.

The men who had brought them left them in a vast, open hall. As Zhang Xingmin surveyed the empty space, he wondered if there were hidden mechanisms waiting to be triggered.

There were no traps. A moment later, a familiar figure entered: the man from the top of the pyramid that night, the mysterious black-robed High Priest. He strode toward them with an imposing air, followed by a group of sturdy-looking subordinates, each carrying a gun—though whether they were loaded remained a mystery.

The figure in the black robe stopped about five or six meters away and spoke: "Long time no see!"

Damin and Long would have recognized that voice even if he had turned to ash. It was Wu Jianxue! When had this old geezer switched careers to become a charlatan here? No, wait—it must have been he who ordered their capture! Now that they were "the fish and the meat on the chopping block," even though this old man had tortured them mercilessly for the past two days, they dared not settle the score. They would keep a tally of these new and old grudges for now and see what tricks he had up his sleeve.

Wu Jianxue knew that the moment he spoke, Zhang Xingmin and Yang Dalong would recognize him. He simply removed his hood and looked at the two remarkably calm young men. He truly felt a tinge of regret; it was a pity these two could not be put to his own use, otherwise, he would have kept them.

"So it really is you!" Zhang Xingmin broke the silence.

"What other tricks are you planning to play? Just let it all out; holding it in must be uncomfortable, right?" Brother Long was more direct.

"Tut-tut-tut! Still so impatient! Can I not simply invite you here as my guests?" Wu Jianxue shook his head at Yang Dalong, his tone full of playful irony.

"You?" Brother Long retorted with a sneer.

"And here I even prepared gifts for you both. How heartbreaking!" Wu Jianxue clutched his chest, feigning sorrow.

"Cat crying for the dead mouse!" Brother Long spat.

Ignoring the insult, Wu Jianxue said coldly, "Follow me." He turned and headed toward a small door.

Brother Long initially refused to comply, but the guards immediately leveled their guns at his head. Zhang Xingmin wisely grabbed Brother Long and pulled him toward Wu Jianxue. Seeing them cooperate, the guards lowered their weapons.

Led by Wu Jianxue, Long and Damin traversed a narrow, winding corridor. They lost all sense of direction and, having no watches, had no idea how much time had passed before they finally stopped in a room reeking of blood.

Wu Jianxue pushed open the door. What met their eyes was a hollow room. Various blades and clubs lined the walls, and in the center sat a large pool filled entirely with blood. In the middle of the pool stood a pipe with a metallic sheen, branching out as it rose toward the ceiling...