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Thank you all for subscribing and supporting. The plot is quite tense, so I added a bit of humor to lighten the mood. I hope you enjoy it. Also, I've figured out what Reward for Diligence means on the cover. For someone like me, who updates only two thousand words at a time, Reward for Diligence has nothing to do with me. I have already applied to withdraw from the Reward for Diligence program. Your subscriptions will not incur any extra charges. Now, please continue to support This Book. Thank you.
Clearly, despite everyone's extreme fear, there was a curiosity about the exit of the Drainage Channel. Everyone knew that this hurdle was unavoidable. After I took the lead toward the end of the wooden plank, everyone followed, their Flashlights shining toward the front of the Drainage Channel.
This Drainage Channel was straight, showing no signs of curvature; of course, we also couldn't see the end of it at this moment. Standing at the front of the plank, I was even more convinced that this Drainage Channel had a slope. The surface of the water clearly indicated a downward trend; it felt as if the wood beneath our feet was sliding forward, seemingly faster than the flow of water.
Jack seemed to be even more curious, standing slightly ahead of me. Buasong was beside me, carrying another Lao Person. I didn't see A San; he was behind me, his Flashlight shining forward between me and Buasong.
Under the light of the Vietnamese Flashlight, I noticed that there were still many splinters stuck in the back of the Lao Person that Buasong was carrying. It seemed that Buasong hadn't had time to take care of him. One leg of the Lao Person hung at an exaggerated angle from his body; it was clear he had a fracture. No wonder he remained still. I thought for a moment that it shouldn't have been caused by me. I collided with his stomach and chest; it's possible my head injury could be related to me, but his broken leg couldn't have been my doing.
Seeing me looking at him, the Lao Person managed a painful smile and pointed at his nose with one finger: “Fumi.”
I understood he was introducing himself. Even at this moment, he still had the energy for that. I forced a smile and nodded at him, but an ominous feeling rose in my heart. This seemed like a scene from many movies where someone introduces themselves or shares an important wish before immediately meeting their end. I hoped this tragedy would not happen to him.
I pointed at my own nose: “Zhang Jianqiang.”
The Lao Person nodded in satisfaction, tilted his head slightly, and closed his eyes.
"Damn it, this is way too fast. If I had known, I wouldn't have responded to him. Let him have a glimmer of hope to survive. I'm regretting it so much right now. Tears suddenly welled up, and I cried out, 'Don't die, for God's sake! There might still be a way out in the drainage channel!'"
Buasong looked at me in surprise for a moment, then started babbling in Laos. Maybe he was trying to comfort me, but there was no sorrow on his face. I felt like cursing him out; this guy had even less compassion than the Vietnamese.
At that moment, a hand patted my shoulder. It was A San. "He’s not dead; he’s just unconscious."
Damn it. I reached out to check. Fumi was breathing, and it was steady. Buasong continued to chatter away, but this time A San didn’t translate. I figured Buasong must have felt Fumi’s heartbeat while carrying him, so at least he wasn’t worried about Fumi dying. In this environment, all we could do was pursue the bare minimum—survival.
But Buasong's voice became increasingly unclear; it wasn't his voice anymore but the sound of water that started to drown out his words. We were nearing the exit of the drainage channel, and my attention shifted back to the spot where the One-Eyed Beast's white light gathered.
The light from the One-Eyed Beast had strong penetrating power, shining far ahead, especially when our three flashlights pointed at one spot; it felt like we could pierce through the darkness. However, as the sound of water began vibrating my eardrums, the light from the One-Eyed Beast illuminated the straight end of the drainage channel, yet my eyes still saw only the walls and darkness.
I didn't know what others were thinking; I already felt hopeless and started cursing loudly, though my voice was inaudible to me. At that moment, Jack turned around and looked at me, mouthing a phrase: "Nice to meet you."
This felt like a dying declaration. I glared at him in anger—not at him specifically but at everyone who spoke to me as if they were delivering their last words. Am I a priest? Do you all want to confess to me?
I mouthed slowly to him, "I still owe you a life. I don't want to take you to hell, and you damn well better not go either."
Jack laughed. "I'll go to heaven."
Damn it. I must have been out of my mind with anger. "Heaven," I corrected loudly. "Hell is too noisy for me."
Jack furrowed his brow, looking confused, perhaps thinking he misunderstood my words or that I had been to hell. Of course, he had no idea about my own imaginings of hell. Still, Jack turned away happily, seemingly satisfied that he had one-upped me before the end.
The sound of water quickly became deafening; the water in the Drainage Channel couldn't keep the Pavement calm, rippling as if it were resonating. I imagined everyone’s face was green, and everyone must have been cursing or praying—at least Buasong was doing so, his mouth moving incessantly.
Even Fumi, who had lost consciousness, was startled awake by the noise. He stared blankly for a moment before dramatically crying out, his expression suggesting he was calling for help. I glanced at him sympathetically; he really shouldn't have woken up at this moment, only to be tormented by fear and pain before dying.
The sound of water made my insides tremble, especially my Heart, yet the Drainage Channel still seemed endless. I couldn't imagine what awaited at the end of the Drainage Channel; the roaring water only stirred fear without allowing me to visualize the scene that caused it. Even if the end of the Drainage Channel were a sheer cliff, it couldn't possibly produce such a thunderous roar. If I had to describe it, it sounded like the destruction of the world heralding the apocalypse.
The Pavement shook, wood trembled, and we on top of it trembled as well. It felt as if the world was yielding and quaking under this roaring sound.
A white haze appeared before my eyes, reminiscent of snow blindness—though that condition should occur in snowy terrain while I was in darkness. I thought it might be a similar affliction. Strangely enough, I wasn't too afraid; just a bit regretful that the scene below must be magnificent, yet I would never get to witness it.
I soon realized that my worries were unnecessary; I didn't suffer from snow blindness, but instead, a vast expanse of white appeared before me. It was a white mist.
The wooden planks beneath our feet surged toward the white vapor, and the combined light from three One-Eyed Beast Flashlights pierced through the mist, illuminating what lay ahead. I could see the end of the Drainage Channel.
I reached out and patted Jack on the shoulder, shaping my lips to say, "Whether you like it or not, welcome to hell."
Jack forced a smile that looked more painful than crying. "It's really loud. I'm not used to this. Can we change rooms?"
"That's difficult. But we can change positions; I can manage that." I pulled Jack back a few steps.
"Go behind me." That was my last word to Jack.
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