Netherbeast’s feet had already left the ground, struggling helplessly in the air like a dying fish, its hands spasming as it tried in vain to pry off the hand gripping its own neck.

William Sherman’s fingers suddenly tightened, and the Netherbeast in his grasp only had time to convulse violently a few times before it stiffened and went limp in his hand.

He released his grip, tossing the Netherbeast to the ground. The moment the corpse touched the snow, it dissipated, and a strange flower sprouted from the frozen earth.

Without even glancing at it, William Sherman stepped down, snapping the slender stem that had just grown with a crisp “crack.”

He pointed with a finger, and a faint black line suddenly stretched across the snow, following barely visible footprints up the mountainside, finally disappearing into a cave halfway up the mountain. A moment later, there was a sharp crack; William Sherman’s eyes flashed as he saw the black line on the ground suddenly fracture into several pieces, as if split by the cold.

At the same time, a piercing screech echoed from afar. Seven or eight Netherbeast emerged from the ground. Unlike those Logan Sullivan had seen on the rooftop, each of these stood at least three meters tall, all with blood-red eyes, raising their heads to howl in unison. The snow mountain, still unstable from the recent avalanche, trembled with their roar.

William Sherman shouted in a low voice, “Puppets.”

A small puff of gray mist rose at his feet, affectionately rubbing against his pant leg. With a tap of his toe, William Sherman sent it leaping into the air, flying straight into the cave.

Then, a pitch-black long blade emerged from William Sherman’s palm. Three feet three inches long, with an exceptionally thick spine, it seemed to absorb all light, leaving only the blade’s edge gleaming—a light only the souls claimed by the blade could see.

Suddenly, he moved.

The Netherbeast’s roars were cut off in an instant; in a single moment, they were all beheaded almost simultaneously.

The massive bodies of the Netherbeast crashed to the ground, and then, even more and larger ones emerged from the same spot, like wild grass growing anew in the spring breeze—it seemed the enemy was determined to hold him back at any cost.

As for Logan Sullivan and the others, they had already entered the cave. At first, the cave seemed fairly normal, but as they went deeper, it grew darker and deeper still. After a turn, there was almost no light at all, so Logan Sullivan had to turn on his flashlight.

After about another hundred meters, the path came to a dead end—a door blocked their way.

In the flashlight’s beam, it was hard to tell what the door was made of. It seemed to be some kind of ancient alloy, heavily rusted, with a skull with an open mouth hanging at the top and on each side. There was an upside-down triangle on the door.

“A triangle? Forbidden Rites of Robra again?” Carter Shaw leaned in, put on gloves, and cautiously brushed his fingers over the door. Then he pressed his ear to it, tapping the heavy door lightly with the second knuckle of his index finger. After a moment, he said, “There are hollow and solid parts—there should be some mechanisms, not too complicated. Let me study it.”

Logan Sullivan gave Charles Gray a kick on the backside: “Get closer and watch. Learn from your Brother Carter.”

Charles Gray shuffled over, looking dazed.

Carter Shaw clearly looked down on him—arrogant smart people rarely have patience for fools. But with the boss present, he could only tinker while dutifully explaining, “It’s nothing special, really. The logic behind a lot of these things is similar. If you see enough, you’ll understand.”

As he spoke, he pulled out another small flashlight, shone it through the crack in the door, and quickly scanned from top to bottom. He soon had a rough idea, and continued, “There’s a thick bolt inside, and thirty-five thin ones—thirty-six in total. Six times six. Usually, these things are all interconnected inside.”

He pointed his chin at Charles Gray: “Squat down. I can’t reach the top. Let me stand on your shoulders.”

Charles Gray immediately squatted down like a big dog.

Carter Shaw didn’t stand on ceremony, stepping right up and tapping bit by bit along the triangle’s edges and the faint seams above.

Supporting a grown man’s weight wasn’t easy—even though Carter Shaw was thin, Charles Gray was still a weakling. Before long, Charles Gray was trembling, but afraid the man on his shoulders would fall, he gritted his teeth and didn’t dare move.

Just as Charles Gray was starting to wonder if he’d been squashed flat, Carter Shaw jumped down from his shoulders and said, “There are thirty-six iron bolts behind this door. Because of the mechanism, there are hollow spaces, and the materials are different, so the densities vary. If your hearing is sharp enough and you’ve listened to enough, you can tell the difference.”

Charles Gray sat on the ground, eyes wide and mouth half open, panting for breath, having understood nothing!

Carter Shaw glanced over his face, completely ignoring him, and was clearly speaking for Logan Sullivan, who stood not far behind: “Once you figure out the general structure, the rest is deducing the details from experience.”

With that, Carter Shaw reached into the center of the triangle and pried out a piece. Charles Gray jumped in fright, scooting back on his butt.

Carter Shaw reached into the round hole and felt around for a while, then turned and asked, “There are thirty-six hidden pegs around the edge. I guess only three can be moved. Which three do you think, Director Sullivan?”

“Due south, northwest, northeast,” Logan Sullivan answered without hesitation.

Charles Gray finally found a topic he could join in on and quickly asked, “Up is north, down is south, left is west, right is east?”

Carter Shaw and Logan Sullivan both pretended he didn’t exist.

Charles Gray’s confidence took a serious hit, and he didn’t dare say another word.

Just then, someone suddenly pressed down hard on the back of his head. Logan Sullivan shone the flashlight in front of him, forcing Charles Gray to lift his head. The beam swept along both sides of the metal door. Pointing to the left, he asked, “What’s that?”

Charles Gray replied blankly, “…A mountain.”

Logan Sullivan roughly twisted his head to the right, pointing at the relief on the door’s right side. “And that?”

“Waves… water?”

“The Hanga people face the mountain with their backs to the water, stretching from halfway up the main peak down to the valley—I just told you this, idiot—because the area is so narrow, locals can’t tell east from west, only up, down, left, right, front, and back. ‘Up’ is toward the mountain, the main peak is to the south; ‘down’ is toward the water, which is north. The side with the mountain is south, the side with the water is north. What’s this ‘left is west, right is east’ nonsense.” Logan Sullivan gave Charles Gray’s head a hard shove and grumbled, “Even a pig is smarter than you, comrade!”

Charles Gray: “…”

While they were talking, Carter Shaw quickly pressed a few spots on the side of the round hole. There was a faint metallic click, and the door slowly opened before them.

A wave of damp, rotten air rushed out.

Chapter 35 Terra-Spike …

“I’ll go first, Xiao Guo follows, Lao Chu brings up the rear.” Logan Sullivan took a few steps, then remembered something, pulled a spare gun from his pant leg, and asked Charles Gray, “Did you pass your shooting test?”

Charles Gray lowered his head in shame. “The examiner said unless he comes back to life, he’ll never let me pass.”

Logan Sullivan could only sigh. “What about a knife? Can you use one?”

Charles Gray buried his head even lower.

Carter Shaw let out a mocking snort, which only made Charles Gray more anxious.

“I’ve recruited a world peace ambassador,” Logan Sullivan said mournfully, glancing at the bottomless cave. Finally, with no other options, he fished around in his pocket and pulled out a pocket-sized stun baton, tossing it to Charles Gray. Like teaching a toddler how to wipe, he drawled impatiently, “Take this. Yeah, it’s simple—hold it like this, don’t do anything else. If there’s danger, just hold it in front of you. Don’t freeze up, that’s all. Can you handle that?”

Charles Gray shook the little gadget in his hand, but nothing happened. It looked just like a small flashlight. Of course, Charles Gray didn’t think the boss was messing with him. He suspected that when Director Sullivan explained, he was too stupid to grasp the point—Charles Gray always suspected his own intelligence with the greatest malice.

But Logan Sullivan had no intention of giving him a review. Flashlight in hand, he strode into the cave. Charles Gray had no choice but to jog after him, unsure whether to ask or just keep quiet. Any rational person would know that in such danger, he shouldn’t be so clueless, but…

Charles Gray glanced up at Logan Sullivan’s tall figure, fearfully thinking that if he asked, he’d definitely get scolded to death by the boss.