The Lost Tomb Vol. 1

Chapter 40: Deck

After years of being corroded by seawater, the deck was no longer sturdy and creaked as if it was about to break when I rested all eighty kilograms of my body weight on it. But I didn't have time to worry about it as I was busy checking on that woman's condition.

I became anxious when I saw that half of her body had already been dragged into the ship's dark cabin. First, I didn't have any kind of light on me. Second, I didn't have any sharp weapons at hand. Once she was dragged in there, her life or death would be up in the air.

I rolled over, grabbed her legs, and pulled with all of my might but found that she couldn't be moved at all. Moreover, she was wearing a skintight diving suit so not only was it impossible to grab hold of, but it was also extremely slippery from the seawater. As a result, I could only use about eighty percent of my strength.

When I saw this situation, I knew that this woman was definitely done for. Unable to come up with a good solution, I panicked and jumped on her, wrapping my arms tightly around her waist. I figured that with our combined weight of at least more than a hundred and thirty kilograms, those two stick-like hands wouldn't be able to pull anymore.

But as it turned out, the deck had reached its limit. As soon as I pressed my weight down, the whole deck collapsed with a loud bang. In a matter of seconds, we—along with a large number of damp, rotten wooden boards—fell into the ship's hold. Fortunately, the bottom of the ship was still sturdy; otherwise, we would've fallen directly into the sea.

I landed with such a hard jolt that I was swaying as I sat up, and a bitter smile involuntarily appeared on my lips—I had tried so hard not to enter the bowels of the ship but had come in so easily just now.

At this time, I heard the woman shouting from below, "Get off! You're crushing me to death!"

I realized that I was sitting on her butt and hurriedly moved away while thinking to myself, this is great. When I watched idol dramas in the past, it was always the women landing on the men. But now it's the other way around.

As I watched the woman struggle to sit up while clutching her waist, I was surprised to find that those withered hands had disappeared from her shoulders. "Where are those two ghost hands?" I asked.

She touched her shoulders and said in a surprised voice, "I don't know either. As soon as I was pulled onto the boat, I fell into a daze. I don't know when they disappeared. Didn't you see anything?"

I shook my head, "The situation was so chaotic when we fell just now that I wasn't paying attention. But those two hands were able to drag a full-grown person around. They're definitely not an illusion, which means they must be real. And if they're real, they can't just disappear into thin air. They must have gotten knocked off when we fell just now. See if there's anything under you."

As soon as I said this, the woman's face turned pale with fright and she hurriedly raised her butt to take a look. Unfortunately, there was nothing there except for some broken wooden boards. "Maybe they slipped off when we fell," I said. "They were still holding onto the steps when you suddenly fell down so I bet they didn't have time to let go of the steps and latch back onto you. They might still be up there."

She must have thought that it was a reasonable explanation because she nodded before saying, "I don't know why it was trying to pull me over here but I think we should be careful."

The two of us looked around, using the faint light that was streaming through the giant hole in the deck to get a better idea of our surroundings. The inner walls were covered in that same thick coat of white rust, along with almost everything else inside the hold. We scraped away some of the layers and saw some general navigation equipment, but they were so rotten that they would basically fall apart with just one touch.

Looking at the scale and structure of this iron hull, I figured it must have been a medium-sized fishing boat from the 1970s or 1980s. The hull had a large space, which was divided into smaller areas by wooden boards. These areas seemed to consist of the crew's lounge, the captain's quarters, and the cargo hold, which was probably where we were right now. But looking at the area we had cleared of rust, this ship definitely didn't sink while transporting cargo.

The ship's keel probably hadn't completely corroded yet so it was still able to endure after all this time. Otherwise, it would have fallen apart long ago after being buffeted by such big waves.

The woman shook her head after looking around, "I actually know a lot about ships but this one's situation doesn't make any sense—with such a thick layer of rust on it, it must've been lying at the bottom of the sea for at least ten years."

"Is it possible that a big storm brought it up from the bottom of the sea?" I asked.

"It's highly unlikely," she replied. "A ship that sank a decade ago should've been buried deep in the sand a long time ago. Even if you used a crane to lift it up, it would still be hard to do. Moreover, the hull is very fragile and may fall apart if you're not careful."

I had also thought of this but I still couldn't figure it out. Since the ship sank a long time ago, how could it still float on the water now? Even if someone fished it up, there should still be a hole left in the hull from when it initially sank. Was it possible that this hole closed on its own?

I couldn't see anything that would give me an answer but I was relieved that the two hands had disappeared. I patted the wood fragments from my body, stood up, and motioned for the woman to join me in walking around the cargo hold. There were wooden boards separating us from the next compartment. When I saw that they were basically rotten and riddled with holes, I moved to kick them down but the woman stopped me, "These boards are attached to the deck. If you kick them down, the whole deck will collapse."

It would be nice if the whole deck collapses, I thought to myself. At least that way, the light would come in and I wouldn't feel so panicked.

After my adventure in the Seven Star Lu Palace, I had a relatively deep understanding of many things, such as the fact that my ability to adapt had been strengthened a lot, especially after hovering on the edge of life and death several times. So, even though my nerves were stretched to the limit while I was on this ghost ship, I wasn't so afraid that I couldn't think.

There was a door in the middle of this wooden partition board but I didn't know whether to push or pull it. I tried pulling it at first, but the handle came off, along with half of the door panel. I looked at the woman and said, "Isn't this basically the same as kicking the boards in?"

She ignored me and looked into the dark opening. This woman seemed to be quite brave, but I figured she didn't dare rush in after what happened just now. "There's not enough light inside," I said to her. "If you want to go in, you'd better make another hole in the deck so some light shines through. That way, you can avoid getting caught by something if you go in there."

I knew this sentence would definitely work on her, and sure enough, she hesitated. I chuckled to myself before moving forward to break a few more boards apart, the whole partition nearly collapsing as a result. Inside the compartment, we could see a big iron platform bedframe, which was still intact. The platform bed itself, however, had completely rotted away. I looked around at the furnishings and decided that this must've been the crew's quarters. I also saw a metal cabinet in the corner, which looked like it was sealed shut. I walked up to it and pulled on the handle, only to find that it was actually loose enough to open.

It was hard to find written records on this kind of ship. Nowadays, captains had to write in the ship's log every day, but back then, there weren't many people who were literate so I wasn't expecting to find anything useful. When I opened the metal cabinet, however, I was surprised to find an old waterproof bag inside. When I opened the bag, I saw that it contained a notebook that was practically falling apart. A few words had been written on the cover: "Archaeological Record of the Xisha Bowl Reef."

I carefully opened the notebook to the title page and saw the following words written in an elegant script: "July 1984—for Chen Wen-Jin, from Wu Sanxing."