The cave was vast and echoed with every word spoken inside. After walking around its perimeter, the group estimated the cave stretched about twenty meters deep—approximately the size of a basketball court. Even stranger was the fact that the ground beneath their feet was paved with large bluish stone slabs. Each slab was about four square meters in size, carved with strange, ancient patterns that gave the place an archaic, mysterious aura.
Liu Dashao suddenly clapped his hands together and exclaimed, “Great! We can get out from here!”
Everyone looked at him in confusion. “What? Did you find an exit?”
Liu Dashao pointed at the stone slabs underfoot and explained, “Look at these stones—they were clearly laid by human hands. That means people must have come here in ancient times. If people could come here before, there must be a passage connecting this place to the outside world!”
His words seemed to awaken everyone from a daze, and they became excited at the prospect.
Zhang Enpu, after a moment of thought, suddenly warned, “We don’t know what purpose this place served for ancient people. Everyone should be cautious.”
Liu Dashao turned to Zhang Enpu and asked, “Master, can you tell which dynasty these stone slabs are from?”
Zhang Enpu squatted down and ran his hand over the stone. “The patterns are unusual—I can’t be sure exactly which period they come from. But judging by the texture, they might date back to the Ming Dynasty or thereabouts.”
As the two were speaking, a sudden, terrified shout rang out from Bai Erlai, “Oh my god, you all better come quick!”
Everyone’s hearts leapt with alarm as they rushed toward the sound. There on the ground lay half a burning candle. The flickering light illuminated Bao Erlai’s face, pale and bloodless, his emaciated features resembling those of a corpse. He sat trembling on the floor, pointing forward with shaking fingers, crying out, “There’s a ghost! A ghost!”
Seeing him in such a state, everyone felt a chill run down their spines. What could possibly have frightened Bao Erlai so badly?
Tian Guoqiang picked up the half-burned candle and said, “Damn it, don’t scare us like that! We’re all good young men raised under the warm spring breeze of socialism—we don’t believe in ghosts or spirits!” Saying this, he stepped forward and raised the candle to illuminate the darkness ahead.
“Ahh?!” Tian Guoqiang’s arm froze mid-air as he stammered, “Thi… this is just too terrifying…”
Candlelight illuminated the nearby stone wall, and as everyone fixed their eyes on the flickering glow, they were immediately struck speechless with horror. About three meters away, hanging on the stone wall, was an enormous scroll nearly five meters long and two meters wide. The image on the scroll was grotesque and soaked in blood, its vivid colors almost overwhelming. It portrayed a man kneeling on the ground with his hands bound and his mouth wide open. Beside him stood a brazier, and a hideous little demon held a red-hot iron pair of tongs, gripping the man’s tongue and pulling it out, stretching it taut and long. Smoke billowed from the wound, while blood continuously poured from the corners of his mouth.
A faint, nauseating stench of blood and decay wafted from the scroll, making everyone feel as though they would vomit.
Liu Dashao shook his dazed head and took a step back, muttering, “What the hell kind of painting is this? How can it be so terrifying?”
Tian Guoqiang suddenly said, “Have you all noticed something strange about this painting?”
His eerie tone sent chills down everyone’s spines.
They asked him what he meant, and he replied with a trembling voice, “I feel like the person in the painting isn’t painted at all—it looks like a real person!”
What?! Everyone stared at the gruesome image with growing fear, and the more they looked, the more they felt Tian Guoqiang was right. The painting gave off an intense three-dimensional effect, as if the figure might crawl out of the wall at any moment.
“Give me the candle!” Zhang Enpu took the candle from Tian Guoqiang and approached the wall. He pulled out a handkerchief to cover his nose and began examining the painting closely.
Zhang Enpu was very thorough. He took out a piece of tissue and gently touched the painting through it, his expression growing increasingly strange.
After a long while, he turned back to the group, his face serious. “Do you know what this painting is made of?”
Liu Dashao casually replied, “Paintings are made with brushes and paint, of course!”
Zhang Enpu shook his head. “No! This painting was embroidered—with strands of human hair!”
Hair?! Everyone stared at Zhang Enpu in disbelief. A painting made of human hair? Liu Dashao, filled with doubt, stepped closer to the scroll. Zhang Enpu warned, “Don’t touch it with your hands!”
Liu Dashao nodded and leaned in. Sure enough, the gruesome image was indeed woven from countless fine strands of hair. Somehow, the hairs were tightly glued together, with no gaps between them. Truly, it was a masterpiece of incredible craftsmanship.
But who could have made such a painting? And why depict such a horrifying scene?
At this moment, everyone’s minds were filled with questions.
Tian Guoqiang exclaimed in amazement, “How many people’s hair would it take to make a painting like this?”
For some reason, the moment Liu Dashao realized the painting was made of human hair, he felt a creeping discomfort all over his body, as if his own hair was being slowly pulled out, one strand at a time.
Bao Erlai, now back on his feet, dusted off his pants and chuckled nervously, “So it’s just a painting! I thought it was a ghost for a moment!”
“Hey, look over here!” Tian Guoqiang shouted again.
Everyone turned their attention. About five or six meters away from the first scroll, another equally large painting hung on the wall. Previously, everyone had been so focused on the first painting that they hadn’t noticed the second.
They approached the second scroll. This one was just as horrifying. It depicted a demon wielding a pair of giant shears shaped like an alligator’s jaws, cutting off a man’s ten fingers. Blood spurted from the severed fingertips, a truly shocking sight.
Tian Guoqiang muttered, “What kind of cruel punishment is this?”
“Damn it, look at this one—it’s even worse!” Liu Dashao cried out.
Another five or six meters away, a third scroll appeared. This one was even more gruesome. In the center stood an iron tree, its trunk lined with sharp blades instead of branches. A naked man was impaled on the tree, his body pierced with countless wounds, blood and bits of flesh dripping down.
Liu Dashao fought the urge to vomit and quickly stepped back.
Zhang Enpu suddenly said, “Quickly, move further along the wall! There must be more scrolls!”
As expected, when they moved another five or six meters, they found a fourth scroll. This one showed a bronze mirror, with a man kneeling before it. Golden light radiated from the mirror, illuminating the man’s body, but the reflection in the mirror was a monstrous demon.
They kept moving and discovered more and more scrolls.
The fifth depicted a large steamer filled with roaring flames. A man, bound hand and foot, was placed inside like a suckling pig, seemingly about to be steamed into a human meat bun.
The sixth showed a thick copper pillar, its interior ablaze. The pillar glowed red-hot, and several demons fanned the flames. A man, stripped naked and tied to the pillar, was being roasted until his body turned black, emitting thin wisps of smoke.
One by one, they examined each scroll. Without realizing it, they had walked a full circle around the cave. Counting carefully, there were exactly eighteen scrolls in total. Each depicted a different form of torture, all of them horrifying and unimaginable. Liu Dashao’s heart pounded with fear, his hands cold with dread.
After viewing the final scroll, Zhang Enpu turned to Liu Dashao and said, “As I suspected, these scrolls depict the Eighteen Levels of Hell.”
The Eighteen Levels of Hell?! Liu Dashao was shocked. He had heard of the legend before, but no one really knew exactly what each level was.
Zhang Enpu explained, “Each scroll represents a different level of hellish torment. Starting from the first one we saw, the eighteen levels are: Tongue Pulling Hell, Scissors Hell, Iron Tree Hell, Karma Mirror Hell, Steamer Hell, Copper Pillar Hell, Blade Mountain Hell, Ice Mountain Hell, Oil Pot Hell, Bull Pit Hell, Stone Crushing Hell, Mortar and Pestle Hell, Blood Pool Hell, Wrongful Death Hell, Dissection Hell, Volcano Hell, Stone Mill Hell, and Saw Hell.”
Liu Dashao let out a low whistle. “Goodness! These eighteen hells are terrifying. Looks like we’d better behave ourselves in life, or else we might end up suffering in these hells after death.”
Zhang Enpu added, “The distinction between the eighteen hells lies not in their spatial arrangement, but in the duration and severity of punishment. For example, those who committed sins like sowing discord in life would be sent to the first level—the Tongue Pulling Hell. In that hell, one year equals 3,750 years on Earth, and the soul must endure ten thousand years of torment, unable to die even a day early. That ten thousand years equals 13.5 billion years in the human world. And since the time and suffering increase exponentially with each level, the eighteenth hell lasts for trillions upon trillions of years. Such endless torment is truly beyond imagination—eternal suffering with no hope of escape.”
Upon hearing this, Liu Dashao couldn’t help but gasp. If such a place truly existed, it would be unbearable for any soul.
“Alright, enough about the eighteen hells. Let’s focus on finding a way out of here first!” Tian Guoqiang interrupted.
Right—they had gotten too caught up in the horror. If they didn’t find a way out soon, the oppressive darkness would drive them mad.
There were only two flashlights, so Liu Dashao distributed candles from his bag, and the group split up to search for an exit.
Suddenly, Tian Guoqiang screamed, “Snake! Snake!” Then the flashlight beam swung wildly, and the torch dropped to the ground with a clatter.
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