299: Chapter 299 Lost in the Cavity

Darkness, thick, warm, and reeking of rot and blood, pressed in from all sides like a heavy, living liquid.

Beneath his feet lay a constantly squirming, greasy "ground." Every step felt as though he were treading upon the contracting and expanding membrane of some colossal creature's internal organs, imbued with a sickening elasticity and a subtle, swallowing rhythm.

The fleshy walls on either side squirmed slowly like living things, continuously secreting a dark red, viscous liquid that smelled of pungent, acidic rot. It slid down the walls and merged into the shallow, flowing, viscous "stream" at his feet.

The air was scorching and humid; every breath felt like inhaling scalding steam filled with fragments of rotting flesh, searing his trachea and lungs.

His ears were filled with the maddening environmental noise—a chaotic, low, inhuman wailing that sounded like billions of suffering Souls moaning at the bottom of a viscous swamp, mixed with the squirming of the fleshy walls and the flowing of liquid.

Deeper still, there seemed to be a more subtle, yet more direct, malicious, and persistent "hunger" whispering at a mental level, as if coming from the very will of this "Hell of Flesh and Blood," attempting to burrow into his mind and unravel his sanity.

Ling Ye supported Old Shi, who had almost completely lost consciousness, his body growing heavier and his breathing becoming increasingly rapid and painful. They stumbled forward, step by uneven step, through this seemingly endless, dark, squirming, and secretion-filled fleshy tunnel.

He felt like a trivial scrap of food being slowly but inexorably pushed by this massive, living, and malicious digestive System toward some unknown, yet inevitably "final," deeper, and more "core" region.

His physical strength had long been exhausted; what sustained him now was only a will of steel, his sense of responsibility for the faint but lingering signs of life from his companion behind him, and the mark of "the key" deep within his Soul, which stubbornly emitted a faint, yet unextinguished, pale golden, cold radiance that represented "Order" and "Hope."

This radiance, amidst the boundless, dark red, maddening, and flesh-polluted darkness, was like a candle in the wind—small and fragile, yet incomparably stubborn and striking.

He did not know how long he had been walking. Perhaps only a few minutes, perhaps several hours.

In this Hell where time, direction, and even "normal" sensory perception had been lost, all standards of measurement had failed.

Only the constant greasiness beneath his feet, the endless darkness ahead, and the continuous, seemingly ceaseless pain of being worn down, eroded, and assimilated—both physically and mentally—were the only real sensations.

The tunnel was not unchanging. Sometimes it became narrower, requiring him to turn sideways or even crawl, dragging Old Shi through the constantly squirming and constricting fleshy gaps, where cold, corrosive digestive fluids dripped onto his skin, causing waves of stinging and burning sensations.

At other times, it would suddenly open up into a relatively spacious small chamber, still surrounded by fleshy walls, with more viscous, semi-solid, and foul-smelling "sediment" piled on the ground—dark red, and even mixed with unrecognizable, nauseating "remains" that seemed to have been "digested" from other creatures.

Whenever he encountered such a "chamber," Ling Ye would force himself to stop, if only for a few seconds. He would use this slightly wider space to lean against a relatively "drier" fleshy wall, gasping violently, struggling to muster the last trace of strength in his body to recover even a modicum of energy, and carefully check Old Shi's condition.

Old Shi's condition was deteriorating as they went deeper.

The ice-blue isolation layer on his right arm and shoulder had faded to the point of being almost invisible, its surface covered in spiderweb-like cracks.

In some places, it had even begun to be slowly but surely eroded, infiltrated, and assimilated by the rich, dark red pollution of flesh and blood from the surroundings, taking on an ominous, murky purple-black hue that lay between ice-blue and dark red.

Those isolated black cracks, in this environment, seemed "encouraged" and became unusually "active," their color deepening, with signs of spreading and infiltrating even deeper into the interior of the isolation layer, toward Old Shi's torso and head!

His breathing also became increasingly rapid and painful, and from time to time, he would emit unconscious, suppressed, and extremely painful moans, his body twitching violently and uncontrollably due to the excruciating pain and the erosion of the pollution.

He had to find a relatively "safe" place as soon as possible, one where he could briefly treat the wounds and stabilize the isolation layer for Old Shi.

Otherwise, it would not be long before Old Shi was completely eroded and assimilated by this environment, or… died instantly when the isolation layer completely collapsed and the pollution erupted fully.

Once again, a fork appeared ahead. Two almost identical, equally dark, squirming, and foul-smelling fleshy tunnels, like the two branching intestines of this colossal creature, presented themselves before Ling Ye.

There was no map, no road signs, and even the sensing of "the key" mark had become extremely blurry, chaotic, and intermittent within this highly polluted Hell of flesh and blood, which seemed to have formed its own independent, insane will, failing to provide any effective directional guidance.

Ling Ye stopped, leaning against the slippery, fleshy wall, gasping violently as his gaze swept rapidly between the two diverging paths.

He attempted to use his remaining perception to distinguish the subtle differences between the two tunnels—such as the direction of the airflow (though extremely weak), the frequency of the dripping digestive fluid, the rhythm of the fleshy squirming, or even the intensity of those maddening mental whispers…

But it was all in vain. In his perception, there was almost no difference between the two tunnels. Both exuded the same pure malice that sought to devour, digest, and assimilate everything.

Time was passing. Physical strength was draining away. Old Shi's condition was worsening.

Ling Ye's gaze finally fell on the tunnel to the left. The reason was quite "simple"—the squirming of the fleshy walls at the entrance of this tunnel seemed just a fraction more "calm" and regular than the one on the right.

Moreover, on the fleshy dome above the entrance, he saw a small area that was relatively dull in color, did not seem to be constantly secreting digestive fluid like the rest, and even faintly revealed a tiny spot that looked like a reflection of metal or crystal.

Perhaps that was a relatively "stale," "inert," or "not fully activated" part of this "Hell of Flesh and Blood"? Or perhaps something had once been stuck there, affecting the local "activity"?

Regardless of what it was, this almost imperceptible, subtle difference became the only "basis" he could grasp to make a choice at that moment.

He no longer hesitated. Supporting Old Shi, he turned and took a step toward the tunnel on the left.

Inside the tunnel, it was much the same as what he had passed through before.

But after walking for about a few dozen meters, Ling Ye's almost numb perception seemed to catch a trace of an extremely faint, "colder," "harder" aura, one that was different from the surrounding pure pollution of flesh and blood, and even carried a hint of an extremely weak, almost dissipated, ancient texture of "Order" or "non-life," faintly wafting from the darkness ahead.

This aura was so faint it was almost non-existent, but amidst the surrounding pure, living, and maddening polluted environment, it was like an ice crystal in the desert, instantly triggering Ling Ye's high alert and… a trace of indescribable, faint-to-the-point-of-non-existence hope.

He quickened his pace (if that stumbling movement could even be called "quickening") and trudged with difficulty toward the direction from which the aura came.

After moving forward for about another twenty meters, the tunnel ahead seemed to become slightly wider. And on the fleshy wall to the right of the tunnel, Ling Ye saw something unusual.

It was an irregular metal plate, about the size of a tabletop, embedded inside the fleshy wall, its edges already slowly wrapped and eroded by dark red flesh tissue, but the main part remained stubbornly out of place with the surrounding squirming flesh, presenting a dull, nearly black, smooth, cold, and non-living texture!

The surface of the metal plate was covered with a thick, dark red, disgusting layer—a mixture of biological connective tissue and dried mucus—but through the gaps in the covering, one could still see the extremely ancient, precise energy patterns etched beneath it, which were slightly different in style from those of the "Monument Guardian" and the "Court of World Purification," and emitted a faint, cold blue light!

More importantly, the frequency and amplitude of the squirming of the fleshy walls around that metal plate were significantly lower than elsewhere, and the color was slightly duller, as if it were "repelling" or "unaccustomed" to this "foreign object," and the secretion of digestive fluid was much less.

Below the metal plate, there had even formed a relatively dry, small, concave "platform" with only a thin layer of mucus, capable of accommodating two people huddled together.

Ling Ye's heart gave a sudden leap. In the midst of a desperate situation, he had finally seen a glimmer of hope where he could catch his breath!

He almost dragged Old Shi as he stumbled onto the concave "platform" beneath the metal plate. Ignoring the discomfort caused by the thin layer of mucus, he first carefully set Old Shi down, letting him lean against the relatively "cold" and "hard" metal plate.

Then, he himself slumped to the ground, his back against the cold metal, gasping for breath, feeling as if all the bones in his body had fallen apart and every muscle was wailing.

Temporarily… safe.

At least, there was no pervasive, constantly dripping, corrosive digestive fluid here. The surrounding fleshy walls also seemed relatively "inert" due to the presence of this metal "foreign object."

The maddening mental whispers in the air also seemed to be weakened and isolated by a fraction due to the faint but resilient, cold, and "non-living" lingering charm of "Order" emitted by this metal plate.