The sounds from the river below hadn’t stopped when suddenly, behind us, we heard a series of loud splashes—“plop, plop, plop…”—one after another. The noise grew more intense, until it seemed like all the human figures that had been hanging above the river had fallen in.
Fatty muttered to himself, “This is bad. Those guys are probably turning into water ghosts to capsize our boat.” He quickly took his “JianWei” off his back and opened the magazine to load steel balls.
I also sensed something was off behind us, so I turned to look. However, the bamboo raft had already moved past the section of the river with the hanging figures, and all I could see behind us was darkness. The tactical light on my climbing helmet was useless in this place; theoretically, it could shine up to fifteen meters, but even at its maximum focus, it barely illuminated six meters ahead.