Chapter 77: The Cavern’s Depths and a Glimmer of Hell

“It’s so dark in here.”

In the shadowy depths of the cave, Qing Yu navigated, his hand tracing the wall as he took slow, deliberate steps.

A chilling breeze snaked through the cavern, eliciting a sharp, whistling moan.

Despite his thick attire, Qing Yu couldn’t suppress a shiver that wracked his frame.

He was utterly lost, the cave’s oppressive darkness and labyrinthine passages having disoriented him completely.

Having rushed in heedlessly, scrambling about without a second thought, he now found himself unable to retrace his steps.

‘If only I hadn’t been so impulsive.’

His nose running, Qing Yu trembled uncontrollably, thoroughly chilled by the cave’s frigid air.

Regret, however, was a luxury he couldn’t afford now.

Separated from Thrud and utterly alone in the cavern, his only hope was to stumble upon Aldoran and the others, or, by some sheer stroke of luck, blindly find his way back to the entrance.

Yet Qing Yu knew the probability of either scenario was vanishingly small, almost negligible.

“I’m freezing to death.”

Clutching his clothes tighter, Qing Yu pressed onward, tears of despair welling but refusing to fall.

Waiting idly for rescue was no solution; forging ahead, even if it led him into a bandit’s den, felt preferable to being trapped in the tunnel.

With his hand still against the wall, Qing Yu continued his arduous journey through the tunnel.

The deeper he ventured, the more treacherous the tunnel became, its floor growing increasingly muddy.

Unlike Roalsa and the others who had passed this way before, Qing Yu’s feet felt as though they were mired in glue, each step demanding immense effort.

His hand, pressed against the wall for guidance, repeatedly brushed against something viscous and slick.

Each time he made contact, these strange substances would suddenly swell, startling Qing Yu on multiple occasions.

What unsettled Qing Yu even more was the constant sensation of slippery objects writhing beneath his feet as he advanced.

These things squirmed and shifted, nearly coiling around his ankles several times, but Qing Yu managed to wrench his feet free from the mud, flinging them away just in time.

“Hoo—”

Qing Yu breathed into his hands, not daring to pause for a single moment, fearing that any delay might attract more of these unsettling entities.

At this point, turning back was no longer an option.

He could only steel himself against his mounting fear and press forward.

“Aldoran, please find me quickly.”

He prayed silently as he continued his advance.

‘If only I had waited patiently for Aldoran outside.’

As he delved deeper, the mud beneath his feet began to dry, and the wall he leaned on gradually regained its solid texture.

Just as Qing Yu believed he had finally escaped the quagmire and let out a sigh of relief, he suddenly felt a sharp prick on his hand.

“That hurts!”

Qing Yu quickly retracted his hand.

In the absence of light, he couldn’t discern the extent of the injury, only a faint sensation of blood oozing from his hand.

“What was that?”

Pressing his injured hand, Qing Yu mumbled to himself, not bothering to inspect what had pricked him, but instead quickening his pace.

After all, if it were some dangerous creature, Qing Yu possessed no means to fight it, making a swift escape the only sensible course of action.

Moreover, the object emitted a faint green glow, a clear indication that it was something Qing Yu should avoid.

“Just how deep does this place go?”

Leaving that path behind, Qing Yu veered into a new tunnel, for within its confines, he thought he perceived a glimmer of light.

Though the light was exceedingly faint, merely a speck, to Qing Yu, engulfed in darkness, it appeared remarkably bright.

Still some distance away, the light rested serenely on the dry wall, patiently awaiting Qing Yu’s approach.

Upon witnessing this sight, Qing Yu cast aside all other concerns.

He hastened his steps, clutching his bleeding hand, rushing towards the source of the light.

His pace quickened, then quickened again, until he was practically sprinting.

Even a few stumbles along the way failed to impede Qing Yu’s accelerating momentum.

At that moment, Qing Yu’s mind held but a single thought: to reach that beacon of light.

So desperate was his urgency that he even overlooked the intermittent moans emanating from the light’s source.

“Huff, huff, huff.”

Reaching the source of the light, Qing Yu discovered what appeared to be a slightly ajar wooden door, through which the faint glow seeped.

“A door?”

A flicker of doubt crossed Qing Yu’s mind: how could a wooden door materialize out of nowhere in such a dark tunnel?

Yet this question lasted only an instant.

Within mere fractions of a second, his heart swelled with an even greater surge of joy.

He cared not why a wooden door stood here; he only knew that where there was light, there was hope.

Even now, Qing Yu failed to register the loud moans.

His heart brimming with pure elation, and a surge of anticipation, Qing Yu took a deep breath and eagerly pushed open the wooden door—

Light, blinding light,

filled the room before Qing Yu’s eyes,

illuminating a scene of utter depravity.

Spread before Qing Yu was a tableau straight from the depths of hell.

Men lay bound, or hung, or simply discarded, their bodies devoid of life.

Their sole commonality was the multitude of wounds that covered them: whip marks, bite marks, and skin charred black by fire.

Women pressed down upon the men’s bodies, wantonly unleashing their desires, ravaging flesh already riddled with countless wounds.

The floor was already slick with blood, yet the women acted as if blind to it, repeatedly slapping and verbally abusing the men beneath them, even using knives to carve away their muscles.

Amidst the frenzied crowd, a single Old Woman sat quietly in a corner, her eyes closed, her state of life or death unknown.

The men wailed and wept, while the women cheered and laughed, creating a stark and horrifying contrast.

Beneath Qing Yu’s feet, a mangled, already cold corpse lay sprawled.

In one corner of the room, Qing Yu even spotted the companions of the Red-haired Woman he had encountered in Nibelungen.

They, too, were long dead, hoisted high, their lifeless bodies swaying gently in the air.

The mingled scents of blood and bodily fluids, interwoven with the wails and moans, violently assaulted Qing Yu’s senses, plunging his mind into disarray.

“Th-this is…”

Involuntarily, Qing Yu recoiled several steps, clamping a hand over his mouth, desperately suppressing any sound.

The women were utterly engrossed in their sadistic revelry, none of them noticing that the wooden door had been opened, nor, naturally, the terrified young man standing there.

Qing Yu stumbled back against the wall, trembling, his mind a blank, utterly incapable of thought.

He could only suppress the urge to vomit, watching the horrific scene unfold before him.

“What in the world is this…?”

“Hey! It looks like there’s another man over there!”

Suddenly, a coarse shout jolted Qing Yu.

He lifted his head in a panic, only to find all the women in the brightly lit room staring fixedly at him, their eyes gleaming with the predatory, bloodthirsty hunger of wolves.

“Looks pretty tender, doesn’t he? Could he be a virgin?”

Someone’s cry ignited a chorus of raucous laughter among them all.

“Perfect! This old gal loves a virgin!”

Another woman shouted, and the others joined in the jeering.

A few women even brutally kicked the men they were tormenting aside, preparing to advance towards Qing Yu.

Males without magical talent were, in their eyes, nothing more than lambs awaiting slaughter.

“Sisters, we’ve got ourselves some fun today!”

At that moment, a woman with a scarred face bellowed, her robust form moving towards Qing Yu.

Qing Yu tried to flee, but found himself utterly unable to move his legs.

Looking down, he saw that his legs were already encased in a pile of rocks, preventing him from budging an inch, no matter how hard he struggled.

In a panic, he could only lean against the wall, waving his hands futilely to ward off the women, watching them draw ever closer.

“Don’t come closer! Go away!”

“Get away! Get away!”

Qing Yu cried out, flailing his hands in vain, praying for a miracle, hoping Aldoran would instantly appear before him.

But it was merely a prayer; Aldoran remained absent even as the women closed in.

Qing Yu’s resistance only provoked more arrogant laughter from the women.

“You’re already here, why pretend to be innocent? You’re a lecher at heart, aren’t you?”

The leading woman chuckled.

“Get lost! When Aldoran finds you, you’ll all suffer!”

Qing Yu struggled, futilely threatening the women.

“Oh, feisty, aren’t we? Let’s see if you’re still so spirited when this old gal ‘trains’ you.”

The women clearly didn’t take Qing Yu’s threats seriously.

One woman lifted Qing Yu’s chin and spat on his face.

Qing Yu instinctively reached to wipe it away, but in the next second, the woman’s palm struck his cheek.

“Who told you to wipe that off?!”

Immediately after, the woman clamped down on Qing Yu’s hands, intent on stripping him.

But before her hands could even touch Qing Yu, a stone struck her hand.

“Who’s there? Get out here!”

The woman, yelping in pain, released her grip and whirled around, demanding in a furious, sharp tone.

Her face was ashen, like an enraged lioness, seemingly ready to devour anyone present.

“Hey, isn’t that enough? What you’re doing is disrespectful to Lord Fafnir.”

Qing Yu watched as the white-haired Old Woman he had noticed earlier emerged from the crowd.

Draped in a white shawl over coarse black clothing, she leaned on a cane, her presence amidst the young, robust women striking a starkly incongruous figure.

“Old hag, do you have a death wish?”

The enraged woman immediately lunged forward, swinging her fist towards the Old Woman’s face.

Qing Yu fully expected the Old Woman to be knocked unconscious by the blow, but in the very next second, he discarded that notion entirely.

Before the woman’s fist could even complete its arc, the Old Woman’s cane was already pressed against her neck.

“If it’s a man, shouldn’t he be presented to Lord Fafnir first? It’s only after Lord Fafnir has made use of him that it’s your turn, isn’t that right?”

The Old Woman’s expression remained utterly serene, her green eyes as tranquil as still water.

A subtle, yet palpable, sense of oppression permeated the now silent crowd.

The other woman, though still glaring furiously at the Old Woman, found her fist dropping.

She stammered, her face turning a livid, liver-like purple, yet utterly unable to utter a single word of rebuttal.

Everyone knew of Fafnir’s immense power; no one dared to cross that tyrant.

“Think carefully. Don’t be so impulsive. One must consider the consequences before acting.”

Ignoring the agitated woman, the Old Woman lowered her cane and walked directly towards Qing Yu, a faint gleam passing through her green eyes.

Qing Yu watched the Old Woman, sensing the aura of authority she exuded.

She flicked the collar around Qing Yu’s neck with her hand.

“Wouldn’t you agree, young man?”

Although her tone was questioning, she clearly had no intention of awaiting Qing Yu’s reply.

From seemingly nowhere, she produced a pair of handcuffs, which clicked shut around Qing Yu’s wrists.

Then, she drew out an iron chain and attached it to the cuffs.

“I imagine Lord Fafnir will know how to deal with you.”

With a tug on the chain, Qing Yu stumbled.

The Old Woman possessed an astonishing strength, one Qing Yu was utterly powerless against.

“Come now. Resistance is futile. Simply accept your fate.”

Without another word, or a moment’s pause, the Old Woman pulled Qing Yu through the throng, leading him towards the dragon’s throne.

“Lord Fafnir will know how to handle you.”