The Lost Tomb Vol. 1

Chapter 66: Grave Robbers' Tunnel

I was just about to start crawling forward, but when I heard him ask this, I couldn't help but duck my head. I had been so nervous just now that I was ignoring it, but in fact, when we were in the corridor down below, I could feel that the wounds I got from the arrows were showing signs of inflammation. They had felt really itchy at the time but now they seemed to have gotten better. I lifted my shirt and looked at the wounds, only to find that the redness and swelling had already subsided and there was nothing strange about them. "I did feel it," I said to him, "but it's not itchy anymore. It's very humid here so maybe you're just sensitive to the moisture in the air."

Fatty scratched himself furiously and said, "Is there any way to treat this temporarily? I was sweating so hard earlier and now my whole body is itchy." As he spoke, he kept rubbing his back against the wall, leaving bloody streaks on the stone behind him. I immediately felt that something was wrong and hurriedly asked him to show me. He turned around while twisting his upper body so that his hands could keep scratching at the itch. I smacked his hands away and then shined my flashlight on his back, only to see some kind of white mold growing from the wounds made by the arrows earlier. It was so disgusting that I simply blurted out, "Fatty, how long has it been since you last took a shower?"

Fatty scoffed, "Shower? Why are you asking that? It's personal. I don't have to answer that."

"I can tell you haven't fucking showered for days. Listen, don't be alarmed but your back seems to be covered in some kind of mold—white mold, to be exact. It could probably be considered one of the few wonders of this world. If you let it keep growing for a few more months, you might even be able to grow a longevity mushroom."(1)

Fatty listened in confusion before saying, "What, white mold? Mold can be white? Quit beating around the bush and just say it. What's going on?

I glanced at Poker-Face and saw that he was frowning. It seemed that the situation wasn't good so I didn't dare continue messing around. Poker-Face squeezed closer and pressed his hand to Fatty's back, causing black blood to ooze out from the wounds. "We have a problem," he whispered to me. "There was something wrong with those arrows."

I found it a little odd. I had also been shot with those arrows earlier so logically speaking, my condition should be the same as Fatty's. Could I have inherited some special trait from my grandfather that made me immune? I quickly showed Poker-Face my own wounds and gave him a questioning look.

He examined my wounds and then clicked his tongue—it seemed he was also unable to figure out what was going on. Fatty, who was starting to become scared at this point, immediately turned to me and asked, "What mold?! You aren't making any fucking sense! Where's the mold growing?"

After he said that, he immediately reached to feel his back but I quickly grabbed him and said, "Don't move. You seem to have some kind of skin disease. Let us take a closer look at it for you, but don't scratch it. Otherwise, you'll leave a scar."

He was itching so badly that he couldn't bear it so I said to Poker-Face, "He can't go on like this. We have to find a way. I've heard that some people with skin diseases can't resist the urge to scratch themselves and end up committing suicide!"

"I want to fucking kill myself now!" Fatty cried out. "This itchiness is killing me! We can follow Guan Yu's example and scrape my bones in order to heal my wounds.(2) Just gouge out a few pieces of flesh for me. I can handle it."

I had also suffered from a skin disease when I was a child so I knew a home remedy, but it was a bit disgusting. "There's no need to dig out your flesh," I said to him. "It's not like you have any extra anyways. And I'm not Hua Tuo.(3) But I do have some lotion that might help so let me apply it for you. It may hurt a little but try to bear with it."