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Ancients [An Epic Litrpg]
8 - The Pit Of Sorrow [IV]

8 - The Pit Of Sorrow [IV]

"Phew!"

Chen exclaimed joyfully in relief as the door closed behind him. He checked his body for any lightning burns. Apart from some minor singe marks on his arms and legs, he was fine. That was close. Glancing around, he saw no sign of giant rats or lightning-shooting traps. He drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. Maybe, just maybe, he could actually relax for a second or two. The experience of the lightning chamber still reeled him. From his loin sac, he removed more healing herbs and began to chew them. The essence of the herbs would provide him with a portion of the needed energy.

After resting for a while, he stood up and fully inspected his surroundings. High archways opened to the right and left. Corridors doubled nowhere, while others delved deeper into the oppressive dark.

The crypt of souls.

All he had to do now was to find a golden orb. Holding the spell-inscribed palm before him, Chen started cautiously down the corridor. As he went, Chen kept his eye on the simple spell the chief priest had inscribed on his left palm. The chief priest had told him whenever he was in the direction of the soul orbs, the symbols on his palm would flare a bright light. A dozen times his palm had flickered and dimmed, and he had to retrace his steps until his palm began to glow more strongly once again. Then he would try his luck down another passageway or tunnel. It was a crude way they had devised beforehand, but it worked.

Gradually, the glimmer at the center of his palm grew brighter. Slowly but steadily, he worked his way closer to the soul orbs. Then, the sounds grew louder and he realized he was not alone in the endless maze. He wasn't exactly sure when he first caught wind of the sounds drifting in the musty air.

At first they had hovered on the edge of his consciousness, filling him with a vague and nameless unease. But now, they were clearer to his ears. It was an echoing sound like that of a slamming door, the grinding of unknown metal, and high, wordless cries that were either screams of extreme agony or inhuman howls of bloodlust. Resonance that struck his soul like deadly bolts of lightning. Although the sounds were faint and far off, they were enough to scare Chen witless. These were the echoes of unfathomable threats, existing beyond the boundaries of Tang.

Slowly, half-remembered tales drifted to his mind. Lores told to him as a child by his father, of the mortal dangers and peril, lying outside the protective areas of Changxi. Hua, in turn, had learned the stories from his own father. His name was Hao, and he had been a chief priest of the fallen goddess of the sun, Xiye, back in the city of Luan. In his words, as the Yao-folks grew in power, they had started raiding human settlements, capturing men and women and bringing them back to the Yaoan burrows to work as slaves, digging and tunneling. Especially the communities near the foot of the shadow mountains of Jinhu. Many adventurers had been hired but made little difference. With time, their raids grew in intensity.

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Not long after this, the Yaoguai, assisted by the Yaomo and Yaojing, had invaded Luan, the home city of Hao. It was a deadly battle. The last spark of Xiye had vanished during the battle. Hao was captured while his wife, Ming, had died in the ensuing battle.

But before they reached the shadow mountains, home of the Yao-folks, Hao managed to escape with the information he had gathered. There were dark and powerful true gods, patrons of the Yaoguai, Yaomo, Yaojing and others that were as vile as them, under the mountains. They were searching for some sort of artifacts which could sway the immortal wars in their favour. And they were ready to sacrifice all to get what they were looking for. Evil that Hua himself had witnessed with his own eyes. Evil that was only kept at bay in Tang by the essence of Changxi, their patron goddess.

"Blessed be her light."

Chen growled under his breath. Gripping the hilt of his dagger, he prowled down the dusky corridors of the pit of sorrow, forcing the old stories from his head. He had a soul orb to find. Following the gleaming spell on his palm, he passed through an open archway into a long, high-ceilinged room. He could see the dancing light of some orbs in the distant. But he hadn't taken more than a few steps before his nose wrinkled in disgust. A vile odor hung thickly on the air. Something crunched beneath his feet. A cautious glance at the object, he saw dull green scales embedded on the surface of a sheath. He had a bad feeling about this place.

Then, as a rhythmic whirring sound, along with a rasping hiss, came from behind, alarm stirred in Chen's chest. He quickly spun around. In the air before him hovered a brilliant green snake, leathery wings sprouting from its back flapping rapidly to keep the creature aloft. Crimson light gleamed in its dull reptilian eyes, and the thing opened its mouth, baring long fangs. As a scavenger, he had learned a few minor skills. He dodged barely in time to avoid the stream of poisonous vemom that sprayed from the snake's mouth. The black liquid struck the wall behind him, smoking and sizzling as it burned deep pits into the hard rock.

Chen stared at the melting stone in shock and utter fright. In all his life, never had he seen anything as terrifying as that. There was another whirring noise to his right. He jerked his head around to see a second winged snake, flying towards him. The flapping sound grew louder, and dry hisses sounded all around him. A dozen sinuous shapes drifted out of the shadows. Chen could only watch in horror as he was surrounded by flying snakes. His hand firmly gripped his dagger, but he knew it would do him no good.

The creatures closed in, their bodies coiling and uncoiling menacingly. The snake's venom had burned easily through solid stone, Chen could only imagine what it would do to flesh. Even as he watched, the flying snakes opened cavernous mouths, baring their cranny fangs, ready to spray.