The Chronicles of the Tomb Robbers归档 - 第20页共91页

4 3 月 2025

1755 Chapter 24 – Amazing Details

I quickly fell asleep, perhaps because I was too tired from climbing the mountain, or maybe because pondering those bad things drained too much of my energy. The alarm on my watch woke me up at five o’clock. I struggled to get up; it was still pitch dark outside. I did a few push-ups to wake myself up and then stretched lazily before stepping outside. The yard was silent, the entire temple was as quiet as a dead zone. I grabbed a cigarette, put on my gloves, and walked into the darkness of the temple.

At the first place I went to, I had hidden four lighters. All four lighters were identical and were placed in order within the crevice of a stone wall, with some very subtle marks known only to me. When I took the lighters one by one, I found that the order had changed; the other party had not noticed my little trick.

Indeed, someone was watching me, and there was certainly someone following me now. Unfortunately, I couldn’t feel anything; the other party was skilled. I used one of the lighters to light a cigarette, then collected all the lighters into a small bag and put it in my pocket. The second place was where I had hidden the slingshot, which was on a beam above a pile of clutter, and it looked completely dark at first glance. I had tossed it up there before, and now even if I jumped, I couldn’t reach it. To get the slingshot, I would have to climb or use something to stand on.

There were various items around that could be used to step on, and as I approached, I noticed that they were no longer in the order I had remembered from my previous visit. I squatted down and found that one of the water jugs had fingerprints on the edge. When I turned the jug over, I saw that it had been flipped and stepped on, with a very faint shoe print at the bottom. However, it was clear that the person did not want to leave any traces, as they had wiped away all the marks with their hands.

I looked at the other clutter and was surprised to find that there were no other signs of being stepped on. This water jug wasn’t tall; I am 1.81 meters, and even if I stood on it and jumped, I still couldn’t reach the slingshot. Only this water jug had been used, and with so much clutter around, it was impossible for someone with strong jumping ability to have stepped on the jug to reach it; otherwise, there would definitely be more traces left behind. The person who took the slingshot must be taller than me, but among that group of Hong Kong people, I didn’t see anyone taller than me. The only people in the entire lama temple who might be taller than me would be those Germans.

Were they involved too? Could it be that in the whole lama temple, I was the only innocent one and everyone else had issues? At that moment, I felt a sense of fear for the first time; if that were the case, this would be a grand play, and I would be the only audience. I hoped things wouldn’t develop to that extent.

I stacked two water jugs on top of each other to reach the slingshot and took it down. I carefully checked it; it was not damaged, so I directly put it into my bag. I didn’t want to check the other places; I needed to maintain some mystery. I returned to my room, closed the door, used a lighter to burn the instant noodles until they were charred, crushed them into very fine powder, mixed it with water, dipped a toothbrush in it, and then flicked the bristles to spray the black water mist onto the lighter.

Soon, the fingerprints were revealed. I used tape to collect them. Following the same method, I collected all the fingerprints from the lighters. That night, a few of my associates came to find me. I briefed them on some matters and then went down the mountain to find a place with a phone. I dialed up to connect to the internet and sent the fingerprint scans to a friend of mine. I needed to check if the owners of these fingerprints had any criminal records. Because if they were people from our line of work, it was likely they had a record.

That night, I stayed at the same guesthouse as last time. My friend’s surname is Mao, and I had only met him in recent years, mainly due to our connections in the underworld, hoping he could provide some convenience. He quickly replied to me, informing me in his email that among the seven fingerprints I provided, three were the same, and four were different. They could either belong to four different people or be four different fingers of the same person. He checked in the database and found that only one of the fingerprints had a record. He attached the file of the fingerprint record holder in the email. I pulled down the vertical bar, and a formal electronic file appeared in front of me. I saw a somewhat gloomy face.

I was startled and suddenly realized that I had seen this face before. Damn it, this was the face of that woman—the one who spat out my smoke yesterday. “So it’s you, girl,” I muttered to myself, and then I saw her name. I found that her surname was Zhang, but there was no record of her first name.

It turned out she was a relative of the young man. I pulled down the file and continued to look. This person was about the same age as me and had served three years in prison in 1998 for the crime of intentional injury causing disability. However, her profession at that time was far removed from this crime; she was a trainer at a training institution.

It seems that when I was hiding things in the temple, she was the one following me. I just didn’t know if it was still her following me now. After her release from prison in 2001, her record was blank, but I wasn’t without options. I found the phone number of the training institution she worked at in the file and searched for that institution’s website. It was an outdoor sports training institution in Hong Kong. When I opened the trainer’s page, I immediately saw many familiar faces.

I recognized many of the people I had seen in the lama temple. Almost all the trainers from that institution were in the lama temple, and I even saw a photo of that girl Zhang in the list. It seemed that after her release, she returned to her old workplace, which surprisingly still wanted her. What kind of training institution was this, specifically training people to disgust me? “The Disgusting Wu Xie Training Class,” specializing in teaching people how to disgust Wu Xie?

At that moment, I suddenly discovered a shocking detail. I saw that on this page, nearly 80% of the trainers had the surname Zhang. At a glance, it was densely packed with the surname Zhang. A bad thought crossed my mind. I started to recall these people and realized I couldn’t see their hands. This group of Hong Kong people all wore gloves and never took them off.

In that rundown guesthouse, the dial-up internet was painfully slow. I slowly opened the web pages, and a long-lost anxiety began to rise within me. I don’t know when it started, but I had become remarkably calm—so calm that it frightened me—because no matter how dangerous the situation, I felt indifferent as long as it was related to me.

I had gone through the most tragic times, unable even to pay for water and electricity. Compared to then, things were much better now, so I thought, at worst, I could return to that state. I could bear any failure. And I wouldn’t engage in anything life-threatening, so I continued to live quite calmly. It was only when I saw news like this, news that seemed to involve that original secret, that I felt anxious. I looked at the names of these people, becoming increasingly flustered. Most Hong Kong people have English names, so most of the names on this page were in English, with traditional Chinese names listed below.

Almost all the names were neatly composed of three characters, like Zhang XX. One person was named Zhang Longsheng, and someone of similar age next to him was named Zhang Longban. It was obvious they were from the same family generation. “Damn it, the Zhang family’s nest, has little brother’s family come looking for him?” I touched my face. The little brother’s family was quite large; could it be that they still had influence in Hong Kong? But it seemed they were doing just okay there, running a family business focused on training.

So what were they plotting against me? Did they lose track of the little brother and blame it on me? If that’s the case, they wouldn’t need to plot against me; they could just beat me up! If they wanted to ask about the little brother’s whereabouts, I would certainly tell the truth. If they didn’t believe me, they could just take me along with them. My mind was in turmoil. If they were the little brother’s relatives or friends, it would be hard to say whether they were foes or allies, and many of my harsh tactics would be rendered useless.

They were all wearing gloves. If their fingers were like that, did it mean that this group of people was all quite skilled? If they were all like the little brother, then I shouldn’t even try to scheme; I should just kneel and surrender and let them do as they please.

No matter how I thought about it, I couldn’t possibly outsmart them. I pondered this discovery and felt it was too important not to share with Fatty, so I called him late at night, but no one answered at his place. I checked the time and realized it was indeed late, so I decided to wait until tomorrow. Overall, my plan was going quite smoothly, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit pleased with myself. Others thought I knew nothing, but in just one day, I had actually learned a lot of useful information.

Additionally, the second reason for my good mood was that I genuinely believed the little brother’s relatives wouldn’t harm me. I went to the public restroom of the guesthouse to take a dump, squatting down to smoke a cigarette and think about what to do next. I didn’t know what they were up to, and I couldn’t figure it out. They seemed to just want to monitor me. Why? Under what circumstances would they need to monitor someone? Suddenly, I thought of those surveillance tapes from Huo Ling. Surveillance, surveillance, surveillance—a lightning bolt flashed through my mind. Could it be that they thought I wasn’t Wu Xie?

I know that there is another person in this world who looks exactly like me, wandering around and doing some mysterious things with unclear intentions. Are the Zhang family trying to determine whether I am the real one or if that imposter is the real one? Suddenly, it makes a lot of sense to me, and I immediately think about clarifying my identity. But then I realize, when has a thief ever admitted to being a thief? Moreover, if it were so easy to distinguish, these Hong Kong Zhangs wouldn’t be using such complicated methods. If they believe I’m the fake one, what will happen to me? Will I be ruthlessly eliminated? I suddenly feel a great deal of pressure about being myself, thinking that I must act more like Wu Xie.

However, if my guess is correct, then at least I can be sure that they are not in cahoots with the fake one. Logically, they should prefer the real one, so if I let them know I’m genuine, maybe they will start to communicate with me. But how can I prove it?

I suddenly realize that, philosophically speaking, it’s quite difficult for a person to self-validate. I let out a long sigh, feeling no mood for a big release anymore, and this single-person swamp toilet is just too foul. After forcing out a few drops, I want to hastily pull up my pants and leave. When I look up, I suddenly see that someone has scrawled something disgusting on the toilet door with something very unpleasant. It’s yellow—could it be feces? Who the hell is in such a good mood that they would smear poop on the door while taking a dump? It’s too disgusting.

I feel a bit nauseous and carefully stand up, afraid of touching it. In that moment, I suddenly realize that what has been drawn on the door with feces is something I am very familiar with.

It’s a star chart of Tamu Tuo, which I’ve seen in my notebook. Next to this chart, a number is written: 104.

104 is the room number here. I am taken aback and think to myself, what is going on?

4 3 月 2025

1754 Chapter 23 – The Heavenly Net of Tibet

The first thing I did was isolate myself because I recalled all the events leading to my trip to Motuo and realized that a few people around me played a significant role in this matter. I am someone who lacks strong opinions and ideas; during my time running a small shop, I never thought to take the initiative when business was slow. On one hand, this might be because I didn’t really enjoy this line of work, and on the other hand, it has a lot to do with my personality. So when those few kids suggested they wanted to go to Motuo for a walk, I casually agreed without thinking much about it, as I was indeed quite tired and not particularly eager to return to the coastal areas. The scenery here is still quite captivating.

I can’t remember which kid brought it up first. I decided to keep my distance from them. Although these people were good leverage for me here, if they had already been compromised, having them close would be like having a ticking time bomb. That night, I didn’t return to the temple but wandered around Motuo, not noticing anyone following me.

However, Motuo is a place that is very difficult to enter or exit, so that doesn’t mean much. If they wanted to control me, they just needed to place people at a few intersections. Someone like me stands out quite a bit here. It wasn’t until dark that I checked into a guesthouse, found a room, and then called the waiter to help me buy some things.

The items included rubber gloves, some clothes hangers, a lot of rubber bands, four lighters, two of the best cigarettes available in Motuo, tape, chewing gum, instant noodles, and long iron nails. That night, I tied all the rubber bands together in bed, hid them on my belt, and placed a half-used pack of cigarettes under the mattress of the guesthouse.

The next morning, I returned to the lama temple with the items, pretending that nothing had happened, and went back to my room. As soon as I entered, I closed all the doors and windows, then pulled out some of my hair and rubbed it on the tape to make it sticky, placing a piece on each window seam. I then fashioned a slingshot using the clothes hangers and rubber bands.

From what I could see at the post office, those who were plotting against me were certainly very skilled, not just a bunch of amateurs, so they must be using high-tech equipment to monitor me. Perhaps there are hidden cameras in this lama’s room, and they would see all my actions. I first needed to test how closely I was being monitored and controlled.

I stepped out of the room; they couldn’t possibly monitor the entire lama temple. I started wandering around, and when I confirmed there was no one nearby, I began to observe the terrain, hiding all my belongings, including the slingshot, in many corners of the lama temple. Then I returned to my room and checked the hair on the window seams; I found all the hair was still there. No one had entered through the window, but that still didn’t prove anything for now.

I started to continue reading the notes written by the “Mysterious Oil Bottle” until evening, when I finally went out to greet some people and have dinner. At that moment, I noticed a few porters hired by the group of Hong Kongers smoking at the entrance. They were smoking the best cigarettes from Motuo, the same kind I had bought yesterday. I glanced at the Hong Kongers and then at the porters, realizing that my first trap had worked.

Following them on the streets of Motuo was not easy, as non-locals stood out significantly. The porters here loved to smoke, so I pretended to have lost half a pack of cigarettes in the guesthouse. If they weren’t a very professional team, they would definitely pick them up and smoke them. I quietly sat down next to the Hong Kongers. They didn’t show any unusual behavior and continued to chat naturally. Here, people’s demeanor was quite relaxed, so I casually took some of their food to eat and listened to what they were talking about.

It was hard to understand Cantonese when the conversation picked up speed, and I soon gave up. However, during that time, I counted their heads and observed each person for the first time. I quickly felt embarrassed about my earlier carelessness. I noticed that at least three of them seemed to be quite capable and showed signs of professional training, while all the others looked very strong and healthy. In a typical tourist group, there are usually people with excellent physical fitness as well as some who are absurdly inexperienced, but the physical quality of these Hong Kongers appeared too good and too uniform.

When I looked at the group again, I found that one of the three capable individuals I had identified was a woman. I only noticed her feminine curves when she moved, but her face was always obscured by her clothing, making it hard to see. I lit a cigarette and walked over to her. In a team, the most capable person usually doesn’t hold a high status, and I thought that flirting with a girl wouldn’t raise too many suspicions. “Hey, beautiful,” I said with a smile as I approached her, “I have instant noodles here. Since you’ve eaten their food, would you like a bowl?” The girl looked up at me, glanced at the noodles in my hand, then at my face, and suddenly snatched the cigarette from my mouth, putting it in her own. She said, “You can keep your noodles; I’ll gladly take this cigarette.”

I was taken aback for a moment, and the man next to her burst out laughing. I composed myself, thinking I couldn’t be intimidated by this initial blow, and said, “I’m Wu Xie. What’s your name, beautiful?” The girl looked at me and spat the smoke out onto the ground, saying, “I regret it; I shouldn’t have taken the cigarette. Give it back to you. Now get lost.” I had never felt so embarrassed in my life, but I wasn’t the naive young man I used to be who would feel ashamed and want to hide in a hole when faced with such situations—at that moment, I just found it amusing.

After she spat out the smoke, she brushed past me. I looked around at the onlookers and shrugged my shoulders, which made them laugh even harder. I asked one of them, “What’s her name?” “I wouldn’t dare tell you,” he replied, and everyone burst into laughter again. I laughed along, thinking that if you really were plotting against me, you wouldn’t be laughing for long. I picked up the cigarette from the ground, took a puff, and walked away from the group.

The purpose of my previous actions is quite simple. It’s a method I’ve discovered through my years of business experience, and perhaps only someone like me is suited for this approach, as I have enough energy to pay attention to so many details. In the past, my uncle used a centralized system to manage the entire chain with his authority and rules, but I definitely don’t fit that route, as I find it difficult to endure in particularly intense conditions and can’t stand too much cruelty and harshness.

I prefer everyone to be well, to earn the money they deserve, and to live harmoniously. That’s why my subordinates call me “Wu Xiao Fo Ye” (Little Buddha Wu). This nickname comes from my catchphrase at the time: “Amitabha, put down the butcher’s knife and earn money to become a Buddha.” It has nothing to do with Zhang Da Fo Ye (Master Zhang), but I find it quite ominous. However, just because I don’t like conflict doesn’t mean I’m not good at it. I have my own methods; for instance, I always negotiate with a dozen clients at once, coordinating the movement of numerous goods. While I’m still negotiating here, sales are already happening over there.

Therefore, others cannot compete with me at all, because for them, the amount of details and information is overwhelming, and they have no idea what I’m doing. Even if they manage to snatch one deal from me, they will definitely miss out on others. But all the orders and details I’m discussing are as clear to me as a web I’ve woven myself.

If you want your opponent to reveal any flaws, the best way is to unleash countless tactics at once. Suppose I believe someone has set a trap for me and lured me to this lama temple; that person must have a significant purpose and will inevitably monitor me. Some of my suspicious actions would certainly pique their interest, such as spending a night alone in a guesthouse after descending the mountain, or sticking hair in all the window cracks of my room, hiding things in various places within the lama temple, suddenly making a slingshot, or unexpectedly flirting with a woman in their group.

All these actions are quite bizarre. If they monitor all of them, they will think I must be plotting something. This kind of thinking can be tormenting; I used to often fall into this vicious cycle, and they would definitely investigate the places I’ve been. So, I left cigarette butts in the guesthouse and my belongings in the dustiest corners of the temple. In such places, as long as someone checks, there will definitely be traces left behind.

At the same time, the act of sticking hair in the window cracks can temporarily hinder their actions; at least they wouldn’t dare to easily enter my room. This also serves as a reminder to them that I seem to know something, making them act more cautiously. My strategy is akin to constantly scattering nails around me; as long as there are invisible monsters nearby, they will surely step on them. The most pitiful thing is that these monsters can’t turn against me; for now, they can only watch me from the sidelines.

The situation they are facing now is that I seem to know something, so they have to be very, very careful in their actions. However, I have also done a lot of strange things, so they need to check everything. I returned to my room, not continuing to read, but instead turned off the lights, moved my bed in the darkness, and curled up, preparing to go to sleep early. I have monitored others before and know that the most frustrating thing for those who are watching is when nothing happens all night, and then that thing only starts moving at five or six in the morning. That’s when people are the most tired and prone to making mistakes. So I need to get a good night’s sleep tonight.

4 3 月 2025

1753 Chapter 22 – Summoning the Fatty.

I lit a cigarette, knowing that many things had become inevitable, and it was time to make a choice. I was in a small bar in Motuo Town at the foot of the mountain, making an important phone call. The place, though referred to as a bar, was actually just a small room decorated to look like one. The walls were adorned with numerous photos of fellow travelers, and while you could find many drinks available outside the mountains, everything was extremely overpriced— a can of beer that normally costs a few bucks was selling for thirty here. At this time of year, the bar was filled with many charcoal fires, and people gathered in small groups around the flames, chatting in various accents and sharing stories.

Although it was afternoon, the entire room was dimly lit, with only the glow of the charcoal fire and candlelight providing illumination. The flickering light reflecting off metal and glass created a restless atmosphere throughout the space, which I found both comforting and grounding. As a result, the call I made ended up lasting much longer than I had anticipated.

On the other end of the line was Fatty, who was thousands of kilometers away. The temperature on his side must have been quite high, as I could feel the warmth emanating from the microphone just from the tone of his voice. After I separated from Fatty, we initially had little contact because it was really hard to reach him in Ba Nai. Whenever I called, it was always A Gui who answered, and I would ask him to have Fatty call me back, but Fatty never did.

In that state, I was also a bit afraid if he actually did call back, because there were too many memories I couldn’t face. His silence was a relief for me. This continued until six months later when Fatty and I reconnected. To my relief, he seemed to be doing much better and could even crack a few jokes.

After that, I tried to contact him about once a week, and he gradually became more open. I attempted to persuade him to leave Guangxi, but this topic seemed to carry some negative emotions for him. Whenever it came up, he would laugh it off, saying that he was living well with his father-in-law and that there were many people here who wanted to be his father-in-law, so he wasn’t keen on leaving.

Eventually, I stopped pushing him on it, but I still hoped my calls could bring him a sense of modernity, preventing him from becoming too immersed in the carefree life of the Yao village. I wanted him to stay informed about what was happening in society in case he decided to venture out in the future.

During our conversations, I gradually shared with Fatty the things I had discovered here. When he heard about my finding a photo of Xiao Ge, his mood instantly shifted to excitement, and I felt a bit proud of myself. It turned out that he still had passion inside him, or rather, his positive side had resurfaced; he just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

Initially, I thought this, but as I continued talking to Fatty, I noticed that his excitement seemed somewhat off. From his tone, it seemed he wasn’t interested in what I was saying but rather had picked up on something from my words, leading him to ponder and doubt.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked him. “You’re talking while eating yellow mud snails, aren’t you?”

“Actually, we don’t have those here. I, Fatty, am just listening to you and feel that something is off. But maybe I’m just overthinking it.”

“What’s wrong with the situation?” I asked. “Nothing happened here. Although it’s not as humid and comfortable as Banai, it’s not worse than your place in terms of seclusion. Don’t make it sound like I’m particularly ignorant or unsophisticated.”

“That’s right. Our family’s Tianzhen is a fresh and refined young man, a delicate flower emerging from the water, wherever he goes, he starts a ‘Learn from Lei Feng’ campaign. He doesn’t compare West Lake to Banai, but says Motuo is like a mother. The Buddha says: the Leifeng Pagoda will eventually collapse.”

“Where the hell did you get all those fancy words?” I was angry. “This public phone is very expensive, can you say something sincere? Stop talking nonsense.”

“Absolutely not nonsense. It’s been a long time since I thought of your second brother, and there’s a basis for it. Listen to me.”

“Your second brother is nonsense,” I cursed. The fat guy chuckled and said, “Look, you came back from Nepal and passed through Motuo, right?” I nodded, then realized he couldn’t see me and said, “Yes.”

“Why did you go through Motuo on your way back from Nepal? Are you a bird that flies back from Nepal and just stops in Motuo for a bit? You went there for business, and you didn’t bring a large shipment. You should have taken a more convenient route around Motuo or flown directly back from Nepal, right?”

“I was just a bit bored and wanted to take this route.”

“Did the people around you just let you go? You know going to Motuo is a complicated matter, and from what I know about you, you wouldn’t have that kind of thought. You currently have a fear of long nights and dreams, and going to Motuo doesn’t fit your way of doing things.”

I nodded, thinking he was right. The fear of long nights and dreams was a side effect of everything I had been through. I always felt that once I stopped or took a breather, the situation would be ruined by someone. So I no longer acted on a whim but pursued high efficiency and shortcuts.

“Think about it, how did you end up in Motuo? There must have been many subtle influences that led you to make that decision.”

I recalled and said, “It wasn’t that complicated. Actually, when we were at the border, we took a back route to avoid taxes. The person who took us across the border was a tour guide from Motuo, and he told us about Motuo. Then our vehicle broke down on the road, and we were in a tough spot, waiting for a long time before we could catch a ride to Motuo. That vehicle had to go to Motuo and couldn’t drop us off specifically. They said if they saw other vehicles on the way, they would let us off. I chatted with that tour guide the whole way, and somehow I decided to come to Motuo.”

“Do you think this is fate?” The fat guy said after listening, “Think about it again, how did you end up seeing the photo of the guy?” As soon as he said this, I suddenly understood what he was getting at, and my heart skipped a beat. I heard the fat guy say, “There aren’t that many coincidences in the world. Even if the guy really stayed in Motuo for a long time, what are the odds that someone painted him and it ended up in a place you could see? Do you think this is a TV drama?”

“Are you saying—this was designed by someone else? He used the image of the little brother to leave me here? What kind of conspiracy is this?” “You think the matter is over, that you can relax. If it were the old you, with your cautious nature, you would never overlook this point.” Just as I felt a chill in my heart, the fat man suddenly said, “Naive, you’ve fallen into the trap. Congratulations, you’ve leveled up to the square of naivety—both naive and squared.”

“Shut the hell up,” I replied, feeling a bit frustrated. “What do you think we should do now? Should I leave immediately?”

“Absolutely not. There are only a few useless people around you. Now that you’ve fallen into the trap, their plan is underway and stable, and you’re not in any danger. However, if you suddenly act as if you’ve seen through their plan, they will definitely use a second scheme to keep you here, and you might not have as much freedom anymore.

Just stay calm for now and give me the address. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

“Are you really coming out of retirement?”

“Now that you’ve reached the ‘square of naivety,’ I have to come rescue you before you get kicked out.” The fat man’s voice was very calm. “Besides, this matter is also related to me. If you get kicked out, I might be next.”

I felt a warmth in my heart, and the slight panic I had just experienced dissipated. I gave him the address, knowing he could arrive here in about a week at the earliest, and then I hung up the phone.

Looking around, I suddenly realized that the atmosphere here was no longer relaxed and pleasant; instead, it felt eerie and sinister. I wasn’t sure if it was just my imagination or if it had always been this way, but I had been too relaxed earlier to notice. After finishing my beer, I lingered for a while at the cold threshold of the door before stepping outside, walking straight into the wind.

Although the fat man said that, I still needed to check the post office to see if things were really as he said. Moreover, for some reason, I really wanted to take another look at the painting and the figure in the painting, the ‘dull oil bottle.’

If what the fat man said was true, and someone was still orchestrating things behind the scenes, what could their purpose be? So much time had passed, and I no longer felt conflicted about it. Did someone still want to push me into those endless abysses? I couldn’t help but sneer; I was no longer the person I used to be. If someone wanted to fool me now, they might succeed when I was careless, but if I caught on, they wouldn’t fare any better.

I arrived at the post office, which was bustling with activity, filled with all sorts of people exchanging packages, packing, and filling out addresses. Taking advantage of the chaos, I slipped behind the counter. The people inside looked at me, and I said, “I’m here to pay.”

“What payment?” asked an accountant-looking person. I pulled out three thousand yuan and said, “It’s what I owe from last time. You can check; there’s a note written on your desk.”

He took the money but looked puzzled. “I haven’t seen any note.”

“Not you; it’s someone else,” I replied.

“Is it a woman?” I nodded, “She should be your colleague. Why don’t you call to ask?” The accountant, a bit confused, made the call. I immediately pretended to be bored and walked over to the wall, looking at the ‘dull oil bottle’ in the oil painting.

The phone call on the other end had just connected when I took the painting down from the wall to examine the nail it was hung on. It was an old nail, and there was a distinct mark on the wall behind the frame, indicating that the painting had been hanging there for a long time. Hmm? Could it be that the fat guy was overthinking? I thought to myself. I set the painting down and noticed that the person on the other end was still on the phone, rummaging through papers on the desk. I then turned my attention to the banners and picture frames hanging nearby. As I flipped through them, something stirred in my heart. Behind the frame that depicted “A Thousand Miles of Success,” there was no mark on the wall, and the wall color was very uniform.

This thing must have been hung recently. I took a few steps back and saw that the other person was still talking on the phone, so I quickly turned and left. As I stepped outside, a cold wind blew, and everything became clear to me. The painting of the dull oil colors was too small, and if I had been careless at that moment, I might have missed it. To make me notice it, this oil painting had to stand out starkly.

In such a small private post office, it would be nearly impossible for an oil painting to appear on the wall. It was already quite difficult for me to notice this oil painting, and for such a small thing to be spotted at a glance, there had to be a large, unremarkable object nearby that was completely different from it to highlight it. Previously, I thought it was impossible for someone to deliberately arrange such details, but now I knew that when someone sets their mind to it, their ability to control details is actually limitless.

Moreover, it was indeed effective. This wall had been carefully designed to ensure that I would see the oil painting. Why was there a mark on the wall behind the painting? I felt that there must have originally been another painting hanging there, but it had been replaced later, and the frame was still the original one, which explained the perfect match. I walked briskly in the wind, mulling over the events that had occurred on my way here. With the fat guy’s reminder, my thoughts suddenly became clear, and many things I had never considered before began to come to mind vividly.

The next steps I needed to take started forming one by one in my mind. I felt very calm, as if I were doing something I had done many times before. Before the fat guy arrived, I believed I could set up my own game well and show him that I wasn’t naive.

4 3 月 2025

1752 Chapter 21 – The Muffled Oil Bottle Appeared

I don’t know how long I stood there, staring blankly at that figure from behind. I wondered to myself, what is going on? Didn’t he say it would take ten years? How could he have come out so soon? Could it be that he was just deceiving me? Or has something changed again?

And now that he was here, could it be that this place truly held the key to everything? Did he step directly from the bronze door to here? As I turned to face the figure, my dreamlike confusion suddenly transformed into a mix of frustration, anger, and more questions. Because I realized that it wasn’t a person sitting there at all; it was actually a statue.

A black windbreaker was draped over the statue, neatly arranged, with a snow hat on its head, making it look just like a real person. I was angry, wondering who would play such a prank by putting a windbreaker on a statue, and I was puzzled as to why this figure resembled my friend so closely. As I approached, I could see the true nature of the statue—it was a simple stone carving made from Himalayan rock, very rough and lacking in detail, yet the overall shape was remarkably similar to my friend.

Instinctively, I looked at the fingers of the statue, only to find that the carving did not have fine details in the finger area. I glanced around; such a windbreaker is quite valuable, and for the hikers who reach this place, it’s not easy at all. It’s unlikely that someone would carry two windbreakers and leave one here as a prank. This windbreaker definitely has an owner, and if he wanted to go down the mountain, he would surely come back to retrieve it. There was no one around, so I circled the statue a few times and then returned to examine it closely. It felt strange; there were very few remnants of my friend left around me. Aside from some blurry images in photos, I realized that during the time I spent with him, I hadn’t left behind anything else.

This made me feel that we were never really friends. In life, when existence lacks meaning, only then can one have truly meaningful friendships. Otherwise, friendships formed in the context of meaning might not endure once that meaning disappears.

I lit a cigarette, gazing at the unfinished statue, thinking that I must ask the lama what this was all about. But I quickly realized that the statue wasn’t lacking in carved details; it had simply been left unfinished. All the carved areas had varying degrees of detail, and the most surprising part was the face, which seemed to have been intended for completion first.

From all the intricate details on the face, I could discern the general expression and the sculptor’s intent. I discovered that the face of the statue was, in fact, my friend’s face. My friend had a distinct appearance; he was not someone who would blend into a crowd. But what mattered to me was not his appearance; it was the expression on his face.

I noticed that this face was crying. I took a few steps back and felt increasingly unsettled. The entire statue presented a shocking scene—my friend was sitting on a rock, head bowed, and he was crying.

My friend had never shown any obvious expressions, including crying; I had never seen him display even a hint of pain. I looked at the statue, finished my cigarette, and then prepared to take off that windbreaker, intending to go directly to the lama to inquire about this matter.

However, as soon as my hand touched the surface of the jacket, I realized something was wrong. When I squeezed the jacket, it left a dirty powder all over my hand. I cautiously continued to unzip it and open it up, only to discover that this was not a black jacket at all. Its original color was indeterminate—most likely white or red—but it had turned black due to being extremely dirty and old. This jacket must have been draped over the statue for a long time. Judging by the material, which is a nylon composite, it doesn’t seem to be more than three years old.

This means that someone had thrown this jacket over the statue within the last three years, and that person never took it back, while it also seems that no one discovered it during that time. Later, I asked the lama, who told me that the area where the lamas operate is not large, and there are many parts of this lama temple that the lamas may never enter. Only the people who originally built this place would have been there. In other words, who sculpted this statue and who draped the jacket over it cannot be verified.

The lama helped me ask some people, but there were no results, as almost all the lamas said they hadn’t been to that courtyard since they entered the temple. I believe in the honesty of the lamas; for them, coming here is a very sincere act, and their curiosity was overcome during their early training. They live in a very simple environment without any desires, and there is no need to go to places they don’t have to, not even to peek through a door.

Therefore, the carving of this statue likely occurred during the time of the Great Lama Deren, and by then, most of the lamas had already passed away. From this deduction, it becomes even more difficult to verify who draped the jacket over it. I pondered in my mind: during the era of the Great Lama Deren, could it be that on one of those nights of recounting records, a young man secretly cried in this courtyard?

Moreover, the young man’s crying was seen by someone, who then secretly carved it, and within these three years, someone draped the jacket over it. There must be many stories that I am unaware of; perhaps the days back then were not as peaceful as I imagined.

I returned to my room and instructed my assistant not to read through the subsequent materials from beginning to end, but to start flipping through them quickly. I wanted to find any records related to “crying,” while I carefully examined the jacket in my room, hoping to find any information about its owner.

Because I knew that as long as there was a breakthrough, I could find a decisive clue. This jacket was from Columbia, an American brand established in 1938, which has a very large sales volume and stores selling its clothes all over the world. It seemed impossible to start from the brand, and the original color was completely untraceable.

All I could determine was that the size of this jacket was XL, which likely indicated it belonged to a man. Of course, it could also belong to a relatively strong woman, but the chances of that were much smaller. It wouldn’t be a local person, as locals wearing such professional jackets are mostly from scientific expedition teams; the probability of it being an ordinary citizen is very low.

I searched all the pockets and found a few coins in one of them; they were foreign coins. I don’t know much about foreign currency, but I thought this was an outsider’s jacket. In another pocket, I found a receipt from a restaurant. I can’t guarantee it was from the motorcycle restaurant, but it was definitely from a restaurant in a place in Tibet. In the inner pocket of the jacket, I found a piece of paper wrapped in a waterproof bag.

The paper was completely sealed inside the waterproof bag. I took it out and discovered a series of words written in German, followed by a string of numbers: 02200059. I gasped and immediately had my partner go down the mountain to find someone to translate the German.

On the other hand, I was a bit anxious. I thought of those Germans and quickly gathered a few lamas to help find someone at the Germans’ resting place. Some of the lamas knew a bit of German pronunciation, and the German translator helped with the translation. I learned that the text on the paper said:

“Dear Mr. Zhang, I have opened the ancient box you gave me. I understand your meaning, and I have deduced the entire process of the changes in the world that you described. I realize that the situation you are concerned about is already happening.

I apologize for my earlier statements. I hope that the methods of your people that you mentioned can still be effective for a while longer. This is not a problem that our generation can solve. I will do my best to persuade my friends to keep the real hope for the future ten years from now. I hope you will still remember us at that time.

The next arrangement after opening the box is 02200059; it should be the last arrangement. Our time is running out.

I urgently hope to see you or your colleagues soon. If you see this note, please write a letter to my original address, and I will come immediately.

Whoever sees this note, please keep it in its original place. We hope to convey this message to a very important person.”

The signature was blank, but a strange emblem made of German letters was drawn in the signature space.

4 3 月 2025

1751 Chapter 20 – The Evil God Independent of Other Civilizations

Having read this, I can basically understand what happened to Dong Can in the valley. Regardless of what the so-called demon is, the reason Dong Can ultimately became disheartened must be because he fell in love with a woman. For the Zhang family, it seems difficult to comprehend the relationship with something like love. As for the younger brother, after spending such a long time with him, I’ve never seen him exhibit any desires that a person should have.

According to common sense, no matter how holy a person is, unless they have been drugged, they would not be so pure and devoid of desires. Even if someone enjoys gardening, the act of appreciating flowers itself is a form of desire. However, the younger brother’s favorite activity is to daydream, which means that if he has any desires, they would be to sit still.

At his apparent age, there seems to be no sign of interest in women. He doesn’t engage in any acts of self-pleasure, doesn’t seem particularly concerned about food, and shows no interest in any information. Of course, even if he had interest, he wouldn’t show it. I couldn’t help but think of a malicious idea: if there’s a chance to meet again, I must feed him a few Spanish flies to see if his body can also be immune.

Thus, I have always felt that the Zhang family seems particularly rigid and especially unable to express emotions. However, Dong Can broke this impression for me. I know that only the shattering of love could make a man, who has undergone such rigorous training, possesses a meticulous mind, and has extraordinary skills, feel disheartened about the outside world, and this woman’s fate must have been disappointing.

I couldn’t help but think of Fatty. Fatty is someone who can digest pain exceptionally well. Although for a person, happiness and unhappiness are just two emotions, and emotions themselves cannot be sold, even someone like Fatty has hurdles he can’t get over, not to mention the Zhang family, who tend to create troubles for themselves.

I believe the situation is that Dong Can fell in love with a local girl during his time in Kangba, but at some point, this girl either died or something else happened. Although Dong Can resolved the existing problems, he also lost the meaning of staying here.

The plots of third-rate adventure movies aired on the eight o’clock movie channel often occur easily in real life. The younger brother discovered that the gaps between the fixed stones in that room were filled with concrete.

This concrete resembles mud but is extremely hard, especially in such a cold place where it solidifies very quickly. However, one thing is that no matter how fast it solidifies, it cannot outpace the process of water turning into ice. Therefore, these stone walls must be kept warm before pouring.

In such a mountain village, how could they use concrete to pour the walls? The first judgment of the “Dumb Oil Bottle” was that there was something fishy about this place, but everything made him feel like there wasn’t anything suspicious. So, he directly asked the leader why there was concrete here.

The leader told him that they didn’t know what this stuff was called. They discovered it in the wreckage of an iron bird that fell from the sky. Later, they found that as long as this material was mixed with water in a warm place, it would turn into stone after a while, making it very good for securing stones.

The iron bird fell three years ago. They heard from people returning from outside that it was a large airplane. If the Muffled Oil Bottle wanted to see it, they could take him there. Muffled Oil Bottle shook his head and instead inquired about the girl, feeling that everything should be interconnected.

After asking several times, the leader finally told him that the girl was the woman Dong Can had fallen in love with. The reason Dong Can stayed behind was to save that girl, as she was to be offered as a sacrifice to the devil. If Dong Can didn’t show up soon, they would quickly send the girl away, as the ten-year deadline was approaching. The earlier actions were necessary rituals for the sacrifice here.

Muffled Oil Bottle felt something was off. Along with this seemingly perfect explanation, he discovered a bigger flaw. Mixing concrete requires very precise proportions, and he hadn’t heard of any planes falling in Tibet three years ago. Even for military aircraft, there weren’t that many flight routes here; there were only a few that crossed the Himalayas. A plane would only crash here if its purpose was to make a detour.

Muffled Oil Bottle asked the leader, after all the talk of devils, whether anyone had actually seen one. At this, all the Kham people fell silent, except for the leader who raised his hand. He said that although they had won the previous battle, most of the adults in the village had died, and while some had survived, they had gradually died off afterwards. There were fewer than seven people who had seen the devil and were still alive.

At this point, a question arose in my mind. Since these Kham people were aware of the outside world, why did they choose to stay in their village? They could connect with the outside world and had proven their ability to adapt to external life. So, as long as they explained the situation, they wouldn’t need these primitive weapons. They were so close to gold; they could just buy a Thompson submachine gun. Since they could deal with the previous devil using primitive weapons, having six or seven Thompson submachine guns would surely be enough. One Dong Can was definitely no match for a submachine gun. From twenty meters away, if I had a submachine gun, I would be confident I could take down Little Brother.

No matter how they did it, the situation kept becoming more unreasonable.

By the time I reached this part, I had been in the lama temple for seven days. After days of reading, analyzing, and categorizing, I was quite fatigued, and the Tibetan food was also quite unfamiliar to me. At this point, I felt I had reached my limit. The environment here was comfortable for me; although the cold in Motuo made it nearly impossible to go outside, the warmth created by the charcoal stove and wool felt made the indoors particularly cozy. I had also gotten used to the strange smell of the blankets here, and I slept especially well.

If it were in the past, at this point in time, I would definitely find a way to go down the mountain and eat something different. Eating ghee tsampa every day is truly not something my stomach can handle. However, I have experienced too much before, which makes me absolutely unwilling to leave what I am doing. I know that even leaving for just a minute could lead to countless unexpected events, and some of those events can be completely controlled by me as long as I stay here.

In this world, if there are some secrets that cannot be known to others, then even if those things are on your table, you must believe that there are countless eyes around waiting for you to leave that table, even if it’s just for a second.

So, I had my companion find a way to go down the mountain to buy some vegetables and flour, and then find a Han Chinese chef to bring a pot to the lama temple. Because the food situation made a significant difference, I initially had this chef help me cook some bean rice, and then secretly asked him to add some salted meat to the bean rice.

During this period, I didn’t look at that information again. A few times I thought about picking it up to read, but an overwhelming sense of fatigue would wash over me immediately, because the previous readings had been so intense that I felt a bit out of breath.

Chen Xuehan became a good friend of mine during this time. He was very interested in the things I was looking into, and we often discussed some details. At that time, the big lamas from various lama temples had not yet fully gathered, and he often had to help the temple receive guests.

Since I had been staying indoors, I didn’t recognize some of the arriving guests, so he was responsible for the introductions. The dining hall of the lama temple was the most crowded place. I saw scattered strangers, many of whom I hadn’t seen before, and not all of them were from Miaoli. I brought my meal to the dining hall, intending to eat while chatting with people, but I soon realized something was off.

Many strange people had come to the temple, looking like they were from Hong Kong or Guangdong, with distinct Cantonese characteristics. They seemed to be part of a trekking group, all eating in the dining hall. Chen Xuehan told us that this trekking group arrived on the third day after I checked in, which was exactly when I was at my most obsessed and had been eating in my room, so I had no idea about their arrival. This trekking group was from Hong Kong, called “Green Home,” organized by a trekking website from Hong Kong.

The webmaster of this trekking website had a good relationship with the big lama of this temple, and it seemed they had known each other for a long time. They would stay here until next month because they were planning to go deeper into the mountains to take pictures of the snow scenery, and the best time had not yet arrived; they needed to rest here. This group returns every year, and Chen Xuehan had served as their guide several times.

I didn’t pay much attention to these people; I just greeted them. Although there were some non-lamas here, my life could be a bit more interesting, but I didn’t want to cause too many complications midway. The arrival of these people made the dining hall too crowded, causing many lamas to move to another temporary room to eat.

I thought for a moment and felt that the discussions of those lamas regarding the information I had gathered might be more meaningful, so I went to that room to eat. Upon arriving, I was even more surprised to find that there were no lamas there; instead, it was occupied by a group of foreign tourists.

Of course, there were not as many foreigners as there were people from Hong Kong, but there were still six or seven of them. Perhaps to avoid any suspicion, not a single lama was present in the room. After all, the high lamas are very wise and have attained a high level of practice; they spend much of their time in meditation and cannot always be found in noisy environments.

I went to ask Chen Xuehan what was going on, how this remote lama temple had turned into a motel, and why so many people had come after I arrived. Chen Xuehan said he didn’t know either. Although this lama temple is not completely isolated from the world, very few people, apart from a few fixed groups, would actually come here in such large numbers.

It might be that I am quite fortunate, and my presence has changed the feng shui here, making it more vibrant. I also have no idea where the high lamas might be; under such circumstances, they might have retreated to the upper levels of the temple, which is an area we are not allowed to enter. I asked a young lama to convey my message to the high lamas, as I wanted to participate in their discussions since I had compiled the information. However, the young lama told me that he would inform me of the time and place for the discussions, and I could not just enter at any time.

Out of boredom, I wandered around the various courtyards, trying to avoid crowded places. As I walked, I ended up in a particularly distant courtyard. This lama temple has countless courtyards; saying “countless” might be an exaggeration, but there are indeed many, and they are all quite small—some are so tiny that they are almost like wells. Before reaching this courtyard, I had already passed through three or four courtyards where I could hardly hear any voices, meaning I had come to a relatively desolate area of the temple.

On the walls of this courtyard, there were some faded Buddhist murals. Being outdoor wall paintings, they had peeled away to the point where only patches of color remained, making it impossible to discern any patterns. I saw a silhouette, and I was certain that this person was simply staring into space; they were not truly looking at anything.

But I hesitated to approach because I was too familiar with that silhouette—so familiar that, in that moment, I doubted whether I was hallucinating or had entered another time and space. It was the silhouette of my brother. He was dressed in a black snow jacket, quietly sitting on a stone in the courtyard, surrounded by snow. He seemed completely unfazed by the cold, as if he had fully immersed himself in his own world.

4 3 月 2025

1750 Chapter 19 – The King of Hell Rides the Corpse

The Tibetan people in blue robes refer to themselves as “Kangba Luo people,” and the place they inhabit is called Kangba Luo, a river valley nestled within the snowy mountains.

Although the communication between the character “Men Youping” and them lasted only a few hours, the sheer volume of information conveyed left him bewildered and overwhelmed. For Men Youping, he could almost immediately visualize everything they described, allowing him to accept and digest all the information instantly. However, for us, all we had were words, making it difficult to truly understand what kind of place this was.

If we were to look down at the entire valley from space, we would discover that the extraordinary lake within the snowy mountains presents a color reminiscent of gem blue, resembling an oddly shaped blue sapphire embedded in white satin. This remarkable lake is called Kangba Luo Lake, which translates to “Blue Snow Mountain” in Chinese. When Men Youping was taken to the top of the lama temple and walked along the edges of the cliffs, gazing down at the vast lake surface, he was utterly stunned by what lay before him.

To be honest, not many things can deeply shock Men Youping. During his training for “impact,” his first response to any danger was calmness and indifference. All his training was aimed at ensuring that he could react correctly at the first moment he encountered any unexpected situation. However, all this training was geared towards dealing with danger and ugliness. Thus, when confronted with the most terrifying and horrifying sights, Men Youping’s heart would never stir with even the slightest ripple; even in the most brutal scenarios, facing the greatest psychological burdens, he could endure it all. But this time was different. He believed this was beauty.

The moment he saw the lake’s surface, beauty breached all his defenses. He beheld a turquoise lake, and the perspective from the cliff’s edge was entirely different from that at the lakeshore. Here, sunlight was fully refracted, and the lake appeared so crystal clear that it seemed unnatural, resembling blue silk tightly stretched across the snowy valley, sprinkled with sapphire dust.

This haunting blue was not the core of the scene; the most captivating aspect was the reflection of the enormous snowy mountain on the lake’s surface. The mountain, of course, was white, but when reflected in the lake, it transformed into a strange and enchanting blue. The towering snowy mountains by the lakeside were sacred and solemn, stirring an indescribable emotion within one’s soul. The snowy mountains in the lake’s reflection were even more mysterious and tranquil than the actual white peaks.

They walked along the cliffs beside the lake and soon discovered a hidden river valley. This valley resembled the fan-shaped river channel we had traversed earlier. If one were to navigate by boat on the lake, they would surely be drawn to the massive river channel I had just entered, overlooking this particularly narrow and concealed valley.

They descended into that more hidden river valley. The river surface below was completely frozen. As they walked onto the ice, they soon found themselves in a wider expanse; a kilometer away, the valley opened up to about four to five kilometers wide. On this river, countless stones jutted out above the surface, piled high with mani stones, resembling a peculiar stone formation at first glance. Men Youping continued to follow along.

After passing the Mani stone piles, the lake surface had turned into a stony beach. Men Youping discovered that the beach descended in a very steep, stair-like manner, but there were hidden stairs among them. They descended step by step into a valley at an altitude of about two thousand meters, an unusual green valley in the snowy mountains. Men Youping saw farmland, streams, and many white stone houses. This was the home of the Kham people, with over one hundred and ninety households, most of whom were Tibetan.

The man in the blue robe led Men Youping into the house of the highest local chieftain. The person who presented the hada told him that there was no chieftain here anymore; the last chieftain had left behind an order for them to wait for the next chieftain’s arrival, but they had never seen him. Men Youping noticed the portrait of the chieftain hanging behind the main seat, and he recognized it at a glance—it was a portrait of Dong Can. Dong Can was actually the chieftain here? He was somewhat surprised and stared at it for a long time.

This Dong Can had a rather special blood relationship with him. Then, the leader of the hada presenters began to tell him a very strange story by the warm charcoal fire.

It turned out that among all the porters coming in and out of Tibet, many of them came from this hidden place, but they did not leave because they could not stand the environment; rather, they were arranged to go out by the Kham people. Only the Kham people truly knew how to trek through the snow-covered wilderness, as they were aware of a secret path in the snow that, even in a snowstorm, would only bury them up to their calves at most.

These porters born in Kham had been doing a very important task assigned by their chieftain, which was to wait for a young Han man who would enter the snowy area. Their chieftain said that Men Youping was one of his clansmen from Han territory, and after he left, this person’s arrival could help them resolve their disaster.

Before Men Youping’s arrival, this Han chieftain had sealed a demon within a huge bronze door in the snowy mountains, but this bronze door would inevitably open after a certain period of time. Before leaving, the Han chieftain told them that he would not survive until the next time the bronze door opened, but fortunately, a young man would arrive here before the door opened to take over his work.

The Kham people had to ensure that the young man could safely reach here and that he was indeed Men Youping. So they devised a plan. During the years of waiting, many Han people had been brought here by porters, but after their tests, they found that none could be the person Dong Can referred to.

In the end, it was Luodan who found the most likely candidate. So when all the Deren lamas gathered the porters, she volunteered to participate. The blue-robed Tibetan who had shot at Men Youping before was named Dan; he was the best and smartest among this group of blue-robed Tibetans. He attacked Men Youping to test whether he had good skills. The term “blue robe” refers to the jackets that adult men must wear while hunting here.

After listening to their accounts, the muffled voice had already drunk four or five bowls of butter tea. The cold weather made him feel a bit overwhelmed for the first time; he could only sit quietly and listen without taking any protective measures. They continued to talk about how Dong Can arrived here, how he became a chieftain, how he taught them to deal with the demons on the snow-capped mountains, and how he eventually left. This was almost another story. The muffled voice understood that the so-called demons often might not be taken literally.

Dong Can and a few others came here after emerging from the deep valley with the enormous sphere. The others left after resting, heading into the outside world to live a wealthy life with the gold they had. However, Dong Can stayed behind to engage in the “fight against the demons.” He must have spent a long time here before leaving, bringing news of this place back to the Zhang family, but he himself never appeared again—later, it was discovered that he was living in a remote lama temple, continuously painting an oil painting.

The muffled voice understood Dong Can; although he was not as skilled as himself, Dong Can was a rather calm person. Such behavior could only indicate one thing: something had disturbed his heart, which was as still as dead water, leaving him disheartened. After leaving Kangbala, he did not want to return to that way of life. If it was merely about fighting demons, such an outcome would not be possible. What was the reason behind it?

The people of Kangbala did not know either. As the conversation progressed to the end, they told the muffled voice that they hoped he could help them complete the disaster that occurred once every ten years. The muffled voice asked, what exactly is this demon?

The people of Kangbala replied, the demon is just a demon.

They took the muffled voice into the back room of the chieftain’s house, and for the first time, he saw the most crucial item in this story—a strange black stone idol. The entire room was very large, but there was nothing else inside, only the black idol. This was not a statue from Tibet; the muffled voice was very familiar with various civilizations, and he realized that this was the first time he had seen an idol of this kind.

It likely came from a civilization system he was not yet aware of. We call it an idol because it meets all the characteristics of one, but it certainly is not a deity of humanity. The younger brother mentioned in the materials that he could not describe what it was in any language. Yes, although it could not be written down, the younger brother drew it.

I recognized it at a glance; this deity system was part of the same system as the one that resembled a club we saw in the Heavenly Palace of Changbai Mountain. Deities are beings that exist at a higher level than us. However, if there are soft-bodied creatures or coral polyps that have attained enlightenment and become gods, can we understand their values?

When I saw that simple drawing, a strange thought suddenly popped into my mind.

The Kamba people told Men Youping that what they needed to stop was this thing. The valley filled with countless metal spheres that Dong Can had visited was located on the other side of the Kamba village, about 17 kilometers away, and the journey was extremely difficult. Many people here had been to that valley and seen those strange spheres, and some had even brought a few back. Men Youping felt there was something off about this explanation and asked, “What about that girl?”

This time, however, he did not receive an answer. While discussing these matters, Men Youping suddenly noticed something very peculiar about the room they were in. After taking a closer look, he discovered that there was indeed something that could never belong in this room. He remained composed, but inside he realized that what he had just heard seemed to be completely different from the truth. This existence appeared to be a paradise, a Shangri-La, yet it was far from what it seemed on the surface.

4 3 月 2025

1749 Chapter 18 – Corpse Fragrance

These scents are hidden within the fragrance of Tibetan incense, and the fact that the young man could detect them indicates that the odors are quite strong. However, because the felt itself has a unique smell, combined with the many charcoal stoves nearby roasting, the young man couldn’t immediately distinguish the scent from the felt and the incense.

These smells must have been brought in with the incense, likely from something similar to the stoves being carried by the Tibetans. It is the smell of a corpse.

The Tibetans quickly arranged everything around the girl and left, seemingly in no mood to linger. This action seemed unremarkable, but the young man sensed something was off. He looked around at the felt and the patterns on it. With those scents, he instinctively reached for his waist, intending to grab a weapon, but he found nothing there; he had forgotten that he hadn’t brought anything with him this time.

Why did he suddenly become vigilant? It was because he saw the pattern on the felt.

This pattern is called “Yama Riding the Corpse,” depicting the king of hell riding a female corpse through mountains and rivers. This image holds significant meaning in Tibetan culture, serving as a powerful protective symbol against evil. The young man suddenly realized the girl’s true identity.

Tibetan traditional patterns are quite diverse, and if these felts were collected from different periods, the designs should vary. However, all the felt here, despite minor differences, bore the same image.

“Yama Riding the Corpse” first appeared on a metal thangka, a thin piece of iron inlaid with gold and silver foil depicting Yama riding a female corpse through the mountains. The thangka is surrounded by decorative iron patterns resembling vines, with many skull motifs in the center.

Yama is referred to as “Yama Raja” in Sanskrit, hence this thangka is also called “Iron Yama Raja Riding the Corpse.” Such images were rare before the appearance of the thangka; many believed they were merely exaggerated depictions common in Tibetan divine imagery, showcasing figures trampling on corpses or people.

However, it became apparent that something was amiss, as in the Iron Yama Raja Riding the Corpse, the female corpse often has a more prominent depiction than Yama himself.

The female corpse typically has a fierce countenance, blind eyes, and crawls on her elbows and knees, resembling a malevolent spirit, yet her chest is full, exhibiting distinctly feminine features.

The young man observed that the girl’s hands and feet were all broken, and her eyes were blind. Could it be that this girl is Yama’s mount?

The young man was all too familiar with corpses, and he had an unsettling premonition that this girl was still alive. He had some understanding of Yama Riding the Corpse, but he couldn’t comprehend why the girl appeared in this state. Was she a sacrifice for Yama? Or was it part of some ritual?

In the midst of his thoughts, the scent from the other side became even more intense. The muffled sound of the girl’s painful moans reached the ears of the man in the oil bottle, but he could not see the specific situation through the various felt layers. He was not particularly curious about these occurrences; in other circumstances, he would certainly adopt a dismissive attitude toward them. However, everything here was connected to his purpose.

What exactly was this place, and who were these藏民 (Tibetan people)? He had to find out. So, he leaned forward, found a corner, and through the gaps between the felt, he saw that the stove near the girl seemed to be burning. The strange scent mixed with the aroma of Tibetan incense was surging out intensely.

For some reason, the girl exhibited considerable pain, as if these smells had a strong stimulating effect on her. The man in the oil bottle slowly approached and discovered that the girl’s complexion had turned a greyish hue, reminiscent of the color of the female corpse etched in silver foil in the illustrations on the felt. The girl had lost her senses, moaning in agony, while beside her were several peculiar small incense burners. He cautiously opened one of the incense burners and found it contained a strange powder that emitted a strong odor.

He looked around, inserted his fingers into the gap in the floorboards, and with a forceful pull, he ripped off a wooden splinter. He stirred the powder and discovered it contained many tiny fragments of bones. Although they had been ground very finely, it was still evident that they were aged bones. This powder was a mixture of Tibetan incense and ground remnants of some desiccated corpses.

The man in the oil bottle had never encountered anything like this before and did not understand its purpose. When he looked up at the girl again, he suddenly noticed that she had crawled up, supporting herself with her elbows and knees, naked and crawling on the ground. He tensed his nerves, gripping the incense burner tightly with one hand; it was the only weapon he could use nearby. Given his speed and strength, a swing of it could at least buy him some time to escape, but he still felt uncertain because he realized that the girl’s movements, crawling on her elbows and knees, were remarkably swift, showing no signs of being a disabled person.

However, the girl did not attack him; she didn’t even glance in his direction but crawled straight toward another direction.

The man followed closely and saw the girl crawling toward a wooden staircase, and in an instant, she climbed up. It seemed to lead to the upper level of this lama temple.

He looked back; that was the direction where several藏民 had come from, which was not the same direction the girl was going. The wooden staircase was particularly large, made from logs as thick as a bowl’s rim. The distance between each step was about a meter.

The staircase led to an entrance above, wide enough for a Liberation truck to pass through. The door was hung with felt and adorned with yellow ancient silk embroidered with red Tibetan characters. From the faded color of the silk, it felt like it was something from at least several centuries ago. He instinctively sensed that this staircase was not meant for people to use, as humans could not possibly climb it; it was prepared for this girl. So, where did this staircase lead?

Strange felt and talismans; several Tibetan locals hurriedly left, indicating that there must be something extraordinary inside. Men Youping pressed down on the stairs to test their sturdiness, and with a little force, his body leaped up instantly. Instead of stepping on the crossbeams, he sprang up along the long poles on either side of the stairs.

Before he could reach the yellow satin at the door, a gunshot rang out, striking the wood at his feet and causing it to explode. Men Youping reacted quickly, jumping out in an instant, grabbing the felt hanging nearby, and flipping himself down. Almost simultaneously, gunfire erupted from below, with bullets hitting the stairs. By the time the bullets shifted to the felt, Men Youping had already slipped into it. He held his breath and looked in the direction of the gunfire.

He saw a flicker of blue light; it seemed that a person dressed in a blue Tibetan robe was moving swiftly among the felt. Men Youping pressed his hand to the ground, listening to the sounds to discern the person’s direction while feeling around for anything he could use for defense. Just as his hand touched the floor, a bullet came through several layers of felt, and he barely managed to move his head in time for the bullet to graze past his ear. He immediately realized that his opponent was not an ordinary person and was not easy to deal with. However, Men Youping had plenty of experience with such individuals. He suddenly stood up and ran almost flat against the ground, hearing bullets whizzing past him from behind. In the blink of an eye, he reached a charcoal stove and stepped on the burning coals.

The coals erupted into a burst of sparks, and using this leap, Men Youping jumped over a person’s height, grabbing hold of a piece of felt and hanging silently behind it like a bat.

Almost simultaneously, several bullets struck the charcoal stove, knocking it over. Then, the person in the blue robe charged over. In this kind of urban combat-style concealed shooting, although the shooter had very powerful weapons, they lacked any informational advantage. If they encountered someone agile, they could easily be ambushed. The best strategy was to run in the direction from which the shots were fired, as the shooter would inevitably have to leave after firing, making the area they vacated safe.

The shooter was most affected by the gunfire; after multiple shots without hitting anything, the likelihood of being ambushed increased significantly. You never knew how close someone might have gotten while you were shooting. In this seemingly concealed area where the felt provided no real cover, this method proved to be the most practical. Thus, the man in the blue robe quickly reached the edge of the felt, and almost as soon as he arrived, Men Youping dropped down heavily from above, his knees pressing down on the blue-robed man’s shoulders.

With the combined weight, gravity, and speed, the blue-robed man was instantly brought to his knees. Men Youping twisted his waist but did not tightly grip the man’s head; instead, he clamped down on his hand, forcefully twisting it to disarm him of the long gun he was holding. The gun fell to the ground, and Men Youping kicked it away with his heel. After stabilizing himself, he looked to see who the person was.

Before he could clearly see what was happening, the other party reacted very quickly, drawing a hidden knife and sending a flash of cold light straight towards the face of the man in the oil bottle. While he had no way to deal with a gun, if someone wanted to fight him, that would truly be seeking death. The man in the oil bottle slightly sidestepped, avoiding the blade, and his fist struck the blue-robed man’s nose through a gap in his defense. At that moment, if anyone were nearby, they wouldn’t have had time to see how he had made his move; all they would hear was the dull thud of a fist hitting flesh, and the blue-robed man fell to the ground.

The man in the oil bottle crouched down and quickly seized the blue-robed man’s knife hand, applying a little force, causing the blue-robed man to be completely immobilized, and the knife slipped from his grasp. Looking down, he saw a particularly young Tibetan youth, no more than eighteen or nineteen years old, who was in immense pain, repeatedly speaking something in Tibetan. The man in the oil bottle knew that the gunfire had alarmed many people, and he couldn’t stay here for long. Just as he was about to knock him out and leave, he saw more blue-robed Tibetans suddenly emerge from behind the felt, numbering in the dozens, all holding long guns aimed at him. The man in the oil bottle sighed lightly, but then saw all the Tibetans squat down, performing the most respectful gesture of the Tibetan people towards him.

This so-called most respectful gesture was essentially prostration, and after the prostration, one of the oldest blue-robed Tibetans presented a colorful hada.

I actually found this to be a very strange scene. The act of presenting a hada appears in many stories and has become a politically charged ritual, but in Tibet, presenting a colorful hada is indeed the highest form of etiquette.

However, the situation just now was quite bizarre; such a scene suddenly emerged, and I found it quite unbelievable while reviewing the information. Then, Luodan appeared in front of the man in the oil bottle and spoke in very fluent Chinese, “We have been waiting for you for a long time, Mr. Zhang. Please accept our apologies and the hada we present to you.”

The man in the oil bottle calmly looked around at the people and saw Luodan pull out a yellowed black-and-white photograph from his pocket and hand it over.

“Everything was arranged by Mr. Dong; what he said was indeed correct.”

The photograph showed Dong Can dressed in Tibetan attire. The man in the oil bottle took it, flipped it over, and saw a line of text: “The secret is right here; they can help you.”

4 3 月 2025

1748 Chapter 17 – The Frozen Sacred Lake

Menyu Ping led Luodan along the path to where the Tibetan people were boarding the boat. Near the shore, the lake was frozen solid, and stepping on it felt no different from walking on land. However, as they moved toward the center of the lake, the ice grew thinner, and with one misstep, a chilling cracking sound echoed beneath their feet, sending a wave of anxiety through them. They had no choice but to walk along the edge of the lake.

The shape of this large lake was particularly strange; unless viewed from above, it was hard to understand its form. The entire surface resembled a giant fan, with one part being fan-shaped and another part forming a deep valley, creating a long, narrow handle. In such a high-altitude, cold region, one would expect the entire surface of the lake to be uniformly frozen, so why was the center of this lake in such a condition?

They followed the long handle of the fan for at least four or five hours before finally making their way around it. At this point, Menyu Ping understood why a boat was necessary; if they had one, this distance would have taken only about ten minutes.

After rounding the fan-shaped section, they found themselves on a narrow stretch of lake flanked by steep cliffs, both covered in white snow. Although the lake appeared narrow, it actually seemed quite wide. They continued walking deeper into the canyon, nearly until dusk, reaching the middle section of the gorge when they suddenly noticed something unusual ahead.

At the end of the canyon, a temple was surprisingly built in mid-air. As someone who studied architecture, I could almost immediately envision the structure: it must have utilized large horizontal beams anchored to the cliffs on either side, with vertical columns driven deep into the lakebed, and the temple constructed atop these beams.

It was a typical lama temple, quite ancient, built from black Himalayan stone, standing at least seven stories high, with the first floor equivalent to two and a half stories of a regular building. This lama temple blocked the entire gorge like a dam.

The lake lay just below the temple, elevated more than three stories high, with many horizontal beams beneath it supporting a number of small wooden boats.

As Menyu Ping walked beneath the lama temple and looked ahead, he saw the lake extending into the distance, seemingly without end. Among the boats resting on the beams, one was covered with a layer of new ice, while some areas were still quite wet.

He instructed Luodan and Laba to wait to the side while he climbed up onto the beams, slowly making his way up. Indeed, he discovered an entrance beneath the temple, but it was blocked by a wooden board. When he pushed against it, it seemed to be weighed down by something very heavy and wouldn’t budge.

Menyu Ping didn’t give up. He stepped back, took a deep breath, and then forcefully pressed against the wooden door. With all his strength, he silently pushed the wooden door upward.

It’s worth noting that it’s quite difficult for a person to exert force upward; lifting and carrying weights are two entirely different challenges. It is very hard for one person to lift an object because the upward motion is something we rarely practice, meaning the muscles used for lifting upward aren’t well-trained.

However, Menyu Ping’s arms were evidently well-conditioned. He slowly pushed the wooden door up, and afterward, he recorded that what was pressing down on the door was a stone weighing over two hundred pounds.

He turned and entered through the wooden door, discovering a storage room used for making, repairing, and storing food and materials. As he looked around, he saw a lot of charcoal, wood, food supplies, and meat hanging from the beams, the nature of which was unclear. Lamas are allowed to eat meat.

The meat was frozen solid, as if it were made of stone; there was no such thing as air-drying here. As long as there was moisture, it would turn into “Himalayan stone” in just a few minutes. The quantity of meat was substantial. In the light filtering through the cracks in the stone wall, he found a staircase leading further up—just a straight wooden ladder. He carefully climbed up and immediately smelled a strong scent of Tibetan incense.

The upper level was filled with various woolen blankets, and there were many charcoal stoves between them, making the entire room very warm. It was unclear whether they were drying the blankets or using them to maintain the room’s temperature.

As he searched for the staircase to go up further, the warmth of the place was overwhelming. After walking in the cold for many days, he couldn’t help but stop to let his body relax. At that moment, he heard a faint sound of breathing coming from among the blankets, almost imperceptible, seemingly from a woman.

After pondering for a moment, he stealthily moved toward the sound, passing through several blankets until he saw something lying in the center among four of them. The blankets were hung very neatly, forming a square area that seemed to outline a room. The object was on the floor in the middle, trembling slightly.

It was a woman, or rather, a part of a woman, as her limbs had all been severed and were only hanging by skin. She had long hair, a typical Tibetan face, and was covered with a blanket-like material. As he approached, he noticed that the woman’s eyes were also blind and cloudy. He crouched down quietly and saw that her features were very delicate; she was quite a beautiful girl.

It was unclear what had caused this girl such immense suffering. It was evident that her hands and limbs had been broken by someone, the flesh torn apart. On the surface, she appeared normal, but the agony and torment from the inability for her bones to heal were immense. During ancient massacres, many women had their hands broken in this manner before being violated.

It seemed that her eyes had also been burned blind; this girl must have endured extreme torture.

He felt no pity; having witnessed the various evils of the world, he understood that emotions were the most useless thing. He turned to leave, but after taking just a few steps, he heard the girl say something in Tibetan, which he couldn’t understand. When he looked back, he saw that the girl had lifted her head and was looking in his direction. Although she couldn’t see, she had still managed to find him through sound.

He stood still and watched as the girl painfully tried to sit up, continually turning her head. Suddenly, she spoke in Chinese, “Who are you?”

He paused, remaining silent. The girl kept turning her head. After waiting a moment, he took two more steps, and she said, “If you don’t speak, I will call out, and then you won’t be able to escape.”

The oil bottle stood still again, turning his head to see the girl facing him with a sly smile on her face.

He had never seen such a smile on anyone’s face before. Although she had no limbs and couldn’t see anything, in this room, she seemed to have the upper hand.

He knew he could knock the girl unconscious in a matter of seconds; in front of him, her little cleverness was completely useless. But he realized something was off—this girl’s attitude might actually be useful to him.

“Do you know who I am?”

The girl nodded.

“Do you know I’m Han?” he asked softly.

“I can smell your scent. Only one Han has been here, your scent is like his, but you are not him. You also came from the mountain below?”

“Yes,” the young man asked, “then who are you?”

“Are you here to find him? That Han said someone would definitely come here,” the girl said. Her Mandarin was a bit awkward, but she made no pronunciation mistakes. She didn’t answer the oil bottle’s question directly but continued, “You need to be careful; they don’t like Han people.”

“I don’t know who you’re referring to,” the oil bottle replied. The girl insisted, “Never mind that, just hurry and take me away from here.”

“Why?”

“Since you’re Han, you must want to know what this place is. If you take me away, I’ll tell you everything.”

The oil bottle looked at the girl, whose face showed a hopeful and urgent expression. He nodded and said, “Alright,” then walked over to her and pressed down on her neck; she fainted immediately.

Those who like to threaten others would definitely not reveal secrets easily, he thought to himself; it’s better to rely on himself.

He gently laid the girl down and was about to move forward when he suddenly heard footsteps coming from the other side. Someone was speaking in Tibetan, seemingly having come to check after hearing their earlier conversation.

The oil bottle quickly sidestepped and retreated behind a few curtains, catching a stronger scent of Tibetan incense. He saw two Tibetans carrying a stove, passing in front of his hidden spot, and moving the items next to the girl, starting to arrange things around her.

The attitude of the Tibetans was very respectful, and the smell of incense grew stronger. However, the oil bottle sensed something was off; he detected another familiar foul odor that shouldn’t be mixed with the incense.

4 3 月 2025

1747 Chapter 16 – Guardian

According to a general narrative, there would typically be a very intense chase or fight afterward, but the narrator is merely recounting an event, so he completely omits the process in between. “We don’t know the details,” and if he were to fabricate them, it would not align with the facts. Since he chose to view these accounts rationally from the beginning, I must also connect them in a rational manner here.

From the subsequent records, I can roughly infer how things unfolded, as I am very familiar with the actions of the narrator.

First, Laba was rescued alive, but after being brought out, he was somewhat disoriented, so I cannot narrate from Laba’s perspective anymore.

A few points can be confirmed: First, at that moment, they did not see what was under the snow; only Laba saw it. After being rescued, Laba was in a state of confusion, indicating that whatever was beneath the snow must have greatly traumatized him.

Second, the narrator should have rescued Laba within three minutes. Although drowning in snow is somewhat better than drowning in water, three minutes is still the limit. If he had not succeeded in such a short time, Laba would certainly not have survived.

Therefore, I can almost certainly conclude that the situation was as follows: After Laba was suddenly pulled into the snow by whatever was beneath it, the narrator, although he did not catch him the first time, must have thrust his hands into the snow several times in the following minutes.

I have seen his speed; he can use his fingers to catch fast-moving aquatic insects in the water, so the entire process must have been very quick. In an instant, his fingers must have grasped some part of Laba’s body, perhaps his belt or collar. Given the narrator’s immense strength, even if he only used two fingers to grip, he could still pull someone out of the snow.

At the same time, I can confirm that they must have been near a rock; otherwise, the narrator could have also been dragged into the snow. His other hand must have been gripping a nearby rock.

The question is, how did Laba see what was beneath the snow? I was not at the scene, and the narrator did not document it. I can speculate on a possibility: when Laba was pulled out, that thing was also pulled out, but for some reason, the narrator did not see it—only Laba did.

When I was excerpting and discussing this part with Chen Xuehan and Zaxi, we had an interesting discussion. After the narrator came out of the snowy mountain and met with the great lama Derin and Zaxi, he did not recount everything completely. The narrator told the great lama that aside from documenting these things, he had many questions during the process of recollection that he needed to ask him.

Upon hearing the narrator’s questions, the great lama realized that he could not answer them with his own wisdom, so he sent Zaji to other lama temples down the mountain to invite many masters, hoping that their wisdom could help answer these questions.

These questions included the strange stories mentioned by the narrator and other peculiar observations, all of which were documented. I can say that all these matters are related to information that, although I do not understand it, is connected to the teachings of the lama, which is why those masters went.

I will discuss this information in detail later, but for now, let’s talk about their discussions, which included what might be the creatures active in the snow. At that time, based on my experience, I asked Zaxi if there were any such creatures mentioned in the various folk tales of Tibet, which could be active beneath the snow. In the materials we could find online, such creatures are generally linked to the legends of the Himalayan yeti, or more professionally referred to as “apes,” which is a common narrative style in fantasy fiction. However, what you hear from locals often turns out to be quite unexpected.

Zaxi almost directly said that such a creature is actually a brown bear, as brown bears sometimes hunt in snow dens. I wanted to immediately object because that seemed impossible. Altitude wasn’t the issue; brown bears can live at elevations of five to six thousand meters. However, the area where the young man encountered danger was almost entirely covered in deep white snow, with no signs of life at all. How could brown bears survive in such a region?

It’s unlikely that the bear would have only had the opportunity to hunt the young man once in its lifetime. Besides, if it were truly a brown bear, who would be hunting whom? The biggest problem is that I am quite sure the young man wouldn’t make such a mistake; the Tibetan must have been signaling him for a reason. Why would he wave to a brown bear? Is it something like, “Hey, watch out for your bear paw”? Is this person foolish?

Chen Xuehan suggested that perhaps the Tibetan was trying to warn the young man not to stay in that area because it was dangerous. This was indeed a possibility. At that moment, Zaxi told me not to doubt it; it must be a large brown bear. He knew that in the past, people in Tibet had kept brown bears to guard temples. Brown bears are very intelligent animals; they can recognize their protectors from strangers. He also heard about a lama from a certain temple who fed a brown bear living near the temple with food scraps during years of food scarcity. Later, when the British invaded Tibet, several British soldiers were attacked by the brown bear while confiscating that temple.

The ferocity of brown bears is truly terrifying. Someone in Kekexili saw the largest brown bear, which was 2.5 meters long, standing taller than Yao Ming, a sumo wrestler. Those British soldiers reported that one of them was killed and dragged into the woods. Subsequent accounts also confirmed that Zaxi’s statement was very plausible; this particular brown bear might have been one that the Tibetans raised near the lake to protect the entrance to it.

Waving at the brown bear could be a habit of the caretaker, but when the bear noticed the intruder, it chose to attack instead of approaching the Tibetan. In this case, it was quite a feat for the young man to have saved Laba from a brown bear. These were just the initial speculations. It wasn’t until later in the story that we truly learned what it was. Throughout the narrative, we had always assumed it was a brown bear and had no doubts about it.

4 3 月 2025

1746 Chapter 15 – The Mysterious Tribe in the Snowy Mountains

The following narrative is quite fascinating. It is evident that the way the young man remembers things is different from ours. We tend to memorize events as they occur, without regard to the order or whether we will remember them days later. However, the way he recounts his experiences makes me realize that he has a methodical approach to memory.

Perhaps it is because he knows that one day, he must remember all of this, so he employs a unique method of memorization, starting with the entire terrain. At that time, the area where the young man, known as Men You Ping, was located was a ridge of a snow-capped mountain range. They were already at a considerable altitude, on the roof of the world. However, at this elevation, looking down does not reveal cliffs that drop five to six thousand meters; instead, from the mountaintop, the entire snowy region resembles a fierce and starkly contrasting hilly landscape. The hills are not smooth like those in the south but are all jagged black rocks, as if they have been chopped by a knife, sharp and angular.

Between these mountains are many valleys, all covered in deep snow. In some places, the snow is unimaginably thick; this is a mountain body wrapped in glacial ice, with stones lying beneath the ice.

That group of strange people was walking in the valley, and when the young man saw them, he was undoubtedly at the top of a hill. To catch up with them, the first thing he had to do was descend from the hill. The light was dim, and the setting sun cast a purple and yellow hue over the snow, giving it an enchanting color. However, even with such lighting, getting down from such thick snow and then catching up was an incredibly difficult task.

At the same time, it was very strange that those few Tibetan people moved incredibly quickly over the snow, so fast that it seemed they were floating rather than walking. Anyone who has walked on snow knows that it is impossible to move that fast, and judging by how deeply the Tibetan people sank into the snow, it seemed that the snow was not as thick as it appeared.

Men You Ping only chased them for a few steps before realizing something was off. He stopped to think about what to do, but by the time Laba caught up, that green light had already disappeared.

Only a line of footprints remained in the snow, which would soon vanish in the strong wind. Men You Ping and Laba stumbled down to the valley below and found that something was completely wrong; the snow barely reached their waists. They were not in the same condition as those people.

They struggled through the snow and finally arrived at the footprints. Laba discovered that there was something beneath the snow. After they cleared the snow away, they found a stone bridge built of stones and wood buried underneath. Those Tibetan people must have been walking on this stone bridge.

They climbed up, pushed the snow away from under their feet, and found that the snow only reached their knees. The bridge was very sturdy; stepping on it did not budge at all, and the material used was the common black rock found in the Himalayan mountains.

Who built this bridge here? Laba wondered. How long is it, and where does it lead? If they had known there was a road buried in the snow like this, they wouldn’t have had to take such risks walking along those cliffs, nor would they have spent so much time climbing the snowy slopes.

After stepping forcefully a few times on the stone bridge, Men Youping quickly chased in the direction where the green light had disappeared. The footprints were rapidly fading, and he walked extremely fast, leaving Laba no choice but to follow.

All the scenery here was almost the same, amidst the snow-capped mountains. If one did not understand the basic knowledge, it would be very easy to get lost. However, Laba was not worried because at the peak of the snow mountain, as long as the view was broad enough, one could certainly see a few particularly iconic mountains. These mountains could tell you whether you were going in circles. At night, the starry sky here was exceptionally brilliant, with the Milky Way crossing the entire horizon more clearly than ever. Various constellations and stars could guide you, so Laba was not concerned.

For the first two hours, they walked aimlessly. They discovered that this stone bridge had no branches; it was certainly a specially designated fast route from one place to another, rather than a typical traffic situation. Building such a project in the snow mountains was truly daunting, as it required first completely clearing the accumulated snow, which was a massive undertaking.

After nearly three hours, they caught up with the green light, only to find that it had become somewhat dim. The Tibetan people were still moving ahead. The time that followed was longer than they could have imagined. I will skip over the details here and simply say it took almost three days. They followed this green light for a full three days, moving forward along the snowy path until they finally reached the end of the stone bridge.

When they passed a bend, it was noon, and the sun was very intense. Wearing sunglasses, they suddenly found themselves in a wide and bright area after passing through a mountain pass.

Before them lay a gigantic lake, resembling amber, that suddenly appeared amidst the snowfields, sparkling like a jewel.

The lake was quite peculiar, entirely different from other high-altitude lakes; it had no beach. Surrounding the lake were white snow and ice, with the ice extending towards the center of the lake. It was not until two to three hundred meters away that it turned into water.

Under the sunlight, the lake was completely still, as if it were frozen in time. Light reflected off its surface, making the water appear as if it were covered in a layer of gold foil, creating an incredibly beautiful and unique scene.

How large was this lake? Laba could not judge, as it exceeded all sizes he could compare it to in his understanding. If he were to describe it to others, he might say it was as large as the sky, but by visual estimation, it should be about the size of two snow-capped mountains. In the snow mountain region, such a lake was almost as vast as the sea.

The several Tibetans carrying the green light walked onto the frozen surface of the lake, and from a distance, Laba saw a very old small boat on the lake.

Once they boarded the small boat, Laba said to Men Youping, “Boss, we can’t get across.”

Men Youping remained silent but noticed that the Tibetan people did not depart after boarding the boat. Moreover, one Tibetan did not board but waited at the shore, watching their hidden direction.

Laba also fell silent, and the two remained motionless, watching as the Tibetan looked over in their direction for a long time before waving them over.

Laba looked at the muffled oil bottle, seemingly asking what to do. After thinking for a moment, the muffled oil bottle initially didn’t move, but the Tibetan seemed a bit anxious, continuing to wave his hand. The muffled oil bottle shifted his position slightly, appearing somewhat impatient.

If this were a novel, at this point, in order to create a twist, there would often need to be an unexpected development, “because the plot must drive forward.” Therefore, the most likely development would be for the muffled oil bottle to stand up, engage with the Tibetan, and thus trigger a conflict.

However, in reality, the most rational decision in such a situation would definitely not be to provoke a conflict.

In the end, the muffled oil bottle still did not go outside. The three of them patiently stood there until the Tibetan, having waited for at least twenty minutes, finally shook his head and boarded the boat. The boat’s oars slowly began to move, gliding toward the center of the lake.

On that side was an area of intense sunlight reflection, making it impossible to see anything clearly; they seemed to be rowing into a sea of golden light.

But after that, the muffled oil bottle still did not move. Laba, unsure of the situation, slowly approached to ask him why he didn’t go out. Clearly, those Tibetans were waiting for them.

The muffled oil bottle shook his head and said casually, “He wasn’t waving at us.”

“What was he doing then?”

“There’s something else following them that we completely missed,” the muffled oil bottle said. Laba suddenly became tense. “How do you know?”

“You don’t need to know,” the muffled oil bottle’s eyes were scanning the surrounding snowfield. Although his expression was extremely calm, Laba noticed that all his attention was not on him.

“Did you see that… other thing?”

The muffled oil bottle shook his head but pointed in a direction. “Although I can’t be sure, it’s likely over there; something is hidden there.”

Following the direction the muffled oil bottle pointed, Laba saw a massive black stone, gaunt and bony, surrounded entirely by snow. Only on top of this stone was the snow seemingly rubbed away by something.

“Behind the stone?” Laba began to tremble a little. He normally wouldn’t be scared by the muffled oil bottle, but his calm demeanor made Laba involuntarily place himself in a position of submission.

“Under the snow, this thing has been moving beneath the snow; otherwise, I would have noticed it long ago,” the muffled oil bottle said.

Laba strained to look around the black stone, but it was all a blanket of white snow. He found nothing. After several more minutes, Laba glanced at the other porter, finally unable to contain himself, and said, “Boss, are you sure? I feel like that person was waving at us.”

Before he could finish speaking, Laba suddenly felt a heavy weight, as if something had grabbed his foot, and he was instantly pulled into the snow.

The snow below was incredibly deep, and in an instant, he was engulfed. Just before he was completely submerged, he saw the muffled oil bottle rush over, seemingly trying to grab him, but it was too late. His own reaction was slow; he reached out and grasped nothing but air. Suddenly, everything became pitch black, and the icy snow pressed against his face, nostrils, mouth, and ears, flooding into his body through all the openings.

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1755 Chapter 24 – Amazing Details

1754 Chapter 23 – The Heavenly Net of Tibet

1753 Chapter 22 – Summoning the Fatty.

1752 Chapter 21 – The Muffled Oil Bottle Appeared

1751 Chapter 20 – The Evil God Independent of Other Civilizations

1750 Chapter 19 – The King of Hell Rides the Corpse

1749 Chapter 18 – Corpse Fragrance

1748 Chapter 17 – The Frozen Sacred Lake

1747 Chapter 16 – Guardian

1746 Chapter 15 – The Mysterious Tribe in the Snowy Mountains

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分类目录归档：The Chronicles of the Tomb Robbers