Fan Dazhi followed the Black-Clothed Man through the depths of the labyrinthine alleys.
The night was black as ink. Only an occasional glimmer of dim yellow lamplight seeped out in the distance, illuminating the filthy water and mud underfoot. All around, the shadows of low, crooked shacks loomed like countless fierce beasts lying in wait.
After nearly half an hour, the Black-Clothed Man stopped before a seemingly abandoned shack and lifted a filthy straw mat, revealing a bamboo ladder leading down.
A stench of damp earth, sweat, and cheap liquor struck Fan Dazhi in the face. Steeling himself, he followed the man down the bamboo ladder.
The ladder creaked as though it could scarcely bear their weight. They had descended only a few dozen feet when the space suddenly opened up, revealing an Underground Hall several times larger than the shacks above.
Several oil lamps and torches hung on the walls. Their dim yellow light flickered, casting the shadows of the crowd onto the uneven earthen walls like ghosts.
Then a wave of scorching, foul, suffocating air slammed into Fan Dazhi, carrying a deafening uproar.
"Big, big, big!"
"House takes all! Pay up!"
"Fucking hell, my luck's rotten!"
Dozens of bare-chested men crowded around several roughly made wooden tables, their bloodshot eyes fixed on the rolling dice and the Pai Gow tiles in their hands.
Copper coins and fragments of silver clattered across the stained tabletops. Thick fumes of liquor and sweat rose and spread through the air. This seemed less like a gambling den than a beasts' lair, noisy, chaotic, and brimming with primal desire.
Fan Dazhi's arrival was like a pebble dropped into a pan of boiling oil. The uproar faltered.
Pairs of eyes lifted from the gambling tables and turned toward him in unison. There was