We organized our equipment, extinguished the smokeless furnace, and folded all the pickaxes and shovels. Several of us seemed to have a tacit understanding, working quickly to pack everything up. Soon, we had everything sorted and gathered around the break we had dug out.

This is a typical manifestation of people having a common goal. It may sound childish to say, but no matter how quickly we packed, it had nothing to do with whether we could go down a bit earlier. After all, none of us had ever been to an imperial tomb, and we had to go through a familiar process. At that moment, we just felt that we couldn’t let anyone else get ahead of us.

Thus, a ridiculous scene unfolded: after gathering around the break, everyone suddenly didn’t know what to do, as if many people had discussed where to play for a long time, only to realize afterward that none of them knew the way. A few people exchanged glances, looking somewhat stunned.

I looked into the cave and did a quick analysis in my mind. Everything else was fine, but there was one fatal issue: we were directly above the abyss, with over a hundred meters of vertical drop and more than twenty meters of horizontal distance to the womb of the spirit palace. Although we had enough ropes, we couldn’t cross that twenty-meter horizontal gap—it was impossible to swing over.

Behind us, Chen Pi Ah Si saw our situation and sneered, “A bunch of useless fools.” With that, he stood up and told us to make way.

I chuckled to myself. Chen Pi Ah Si’s old mentality was still unavoidable. We had always looked to him for guidance, and after the fat guy had just shown off a bit, it was inevitable that he felt a bit uncomfortable. Seeing us like this, he couldn’t help but lash out to regain his status; this is a common mentality among many older people.

We made a gap for him, and Master Hua, with a self-deprecating smile, said, “Old man, we’re just a bit too excited, aren’t we? We’ve never seen such a big scene. How do you think we should go about this?”

Chen Pi Ah Si, supported by Ye Cheng, squatted down to look into the hole, saying, “The principles remain unchanged despite the variations. Safety first. Let’s find someone to climb up those wooden pillars supporting the icy dome, then follow the pillars to the top of the cave, and use ropes to descend onto the roof of the suspended building outside.”

We looked at the ice-covered wooden pillars. Each pillar was over a hundred meters long, definitely not just a single tree trunk; there must have been wooden wedges connecting several pieces together. Such a structure could handle compressive forces without issue, but we didn’t know if it could withstand tensile forces. If it couldn’t, we would be in trouble. If one wooden pillar collapsed, it would surely hit the other pillars during the fall, and the entire icy dome could come crashing down. This method was still quite risky.

However, at that moment, everyone was eager to go down and didn’t think too much about these issues. Moreover, it seemed there were no better options available.

Only Pan Zi was suitable for this risky endeavor; others, regardless of their skills or weight, were not up to the task, so Pan Zi had to take on this heavy responsibility.

We tied a butterfly buckle rope around his waist and equipped him with only some lightweight gear. Pan Zi looked a bit excited. Chen Pi Ah Si handed him a drink to calm him down, saying, “Don’t get too carried away; our goal isn’t here. Keep your eyes sharp when you go down.”

Panzi nodded, took a deep breath, and carefully climbed into the ice well. Then he used his flying tiger claws to wrap around one side of the wooden corridor, swinging across like a special forces soldier on a rope, and quickly climbed up onto the wooden pillar.

As soon as he stepped on it, the wooden pillar emitted a series of uncomfortable cracking sounds, reminiscent of ice breaking, causing us all to hold our breath. Panzi’s face turned pale as he stood still, fearing that the pillar might collapse.

Fortunately, after about ten minutes, the cracking sounds subsided, and the surroundings returned to a state of calm, with the forces regaining balance. I thought to myself that perhaps I was overthinking it; the heavy ice dome above created immense pressure between the wooden corridors, and we were like ants, so there shouldn’t be a major problem.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief. After such a scare, we felt a bit more alert, and the inexplicable excitement had somewhat diminished. Panzi continued forward, moving even more cautiously, almost as if he were dancing to an extremely slow rhythm. Our hearts beat in time with his movements. Finally, we reached the edge of the wooden pillar, where the cliff dropped down over a hundred meters to the cave below.

The flashlight beams we sent down were too diffuse, so Panzi activated five or six glow sticks, tossing them down one by one. In the darkness, several beams of light fell straight down; some disappeared like shooting stars into the depths of the abyss, while others fell for several meters before hitting the tiled roof and bouncing a few times before coming to a stop. At the same time, the chemicals inside the glow sticks reacted violently due to the shaking, causing them to glow brighter and faintly illuminating the scene inside the ice dome.

Then Panzi threw down a rope, which dangled down to the tiled roof, and he quickly slid down. Watching Panzi land steadily on the roof, we finally relaxed. He signaled to us with a few gestures, indicating that the process was safe.

We began to feel excited again, and the next one to descend was Huashang. One by one, we carefully followed suit, making our way down to the tiled roof without incident.

Walking on a balance beam a hundred meters long and climbing more than a hundred meters of rope was no small feat. Once I reached the bottom, I could barely stand and needed Panzi to support me in order to stabilize myself on the glazed tiles. The sensation of being on the ice wooden pillar made my legs involuntarily weaken.

With seven flashlights shining around, we discovered that the slope of the ice dome was nearly vertical at about a 30-degree angle. The cave was deep, and the palace extended deep into the mountain, obscuring the view of the innermost parts. The mountain peak almost touched the top of the spirit palace, and the tiled roof we stood on was the outermost layer of the ‘great hall.’ The eaves were shaped like phoenix heads, with dragon-shaped ridge beasts on either side to ward off evil. The yellow tiles and red beams exuded an imperial aura. We wobbled atop the roof, feeling a bit like characters from Stephen Chow’s version of “The Duel at the Forbidden City.”

The fat guy wanted to pry up a tile to take a look but found that the tiles were frozen solid and couldn’t be pried off, so he gave up. One by one, we cautiously clung to the dragon heads of the eaves and used the rope to descend to the porch outside the main entrance of the spirit palace.

The porch resembles a sacrificial altar, with a stone slab floor that has been laid out above ground. The years of cold have caused the stones to become brittle, making a crunching sound underfoot, and they could break at any moment. This place should have been the end of the mountain path that was built back in the day. Now, the path has been dismantled, and on one side is a pitch-black abyss, while on the left and right are rows of bronze tripods covered with frost, filled with black, unidentified ancient ashes.

The style of the bronze vessels and the appearance of the palace are distinctly Han in character. It seems that Wang Zanghai took on the project there, but in terms of design, he couldn’t surpass the limitations of his own ethnicity and era. Or perhaps, given the national strength of Eastern Xia at the time, they could only plunder what belonged to the Han people at the borders to make do.

On the other side is the door to the spirit hall, in front of which stands a wordless turtle-shaped stone tablet. Behind the tablet is a large white jade door to the palace, which is nearly three people tall and two people wide. The door is intricately carved with figures dancing among the clouds and monstrous bird faces, the names of which are unidentifiable. Above the door is a brass door knocker in the shape of a tiger’s head, and both the door seams and hinges have been doused with water, causing the door panels to freeze together as if they were one solid piece.

Standing here and looking up at the icy dome, faint light filters down from above, and it seems as if a layer of mist has clouded my vision, making everything appear much older. This feeling is difficult to express in words.

The monk Hua wanted to take some photos here, so we took the opportunity to catch our breath and look around. Ye Cheng walked around for a bit and, upon seeing the cliff below, exclaimed, “I really can’t understand why this damn Emperor Wannu insisted on building his tomb in such a desolate place. Isn’t there flat ground? Isn’t this just torturing people?”

I replied, “The thoughts of an emperor are different from those of ordinary people. It may have something to do with their religion. Just look at Tibet; many temples are built in places that are nearly impossible to reach, all in the pursuit of getting closer to the divine. This is something we, as common folks, cannot comprehend.”

The胖子 shook his head in disagreement: “I think the reason for building it here is quite simple: he doesn’t want anyone to come up. There must be something valuable in this royal tomb that that old Wannu is hoarding like a treasure, and even in death, he won’t share it. We need to teach him a lesson this time.” Saying this, he and Lang Feng took out a crowbar to pry open the hall door.

I found it amusing. The胖子 is such a straightforward person; I wonder where he would place his own tomb if he were an emperor.

Behind the jade stone door, there was no access to running water. With a strong shove of the crowbar, the ice on both door hinges cracked. We used chisels to break the ice in the door seam, and finally, the door could barely be pushed open a crack. A rush of dark air surged out, and we quickly stepped back. The monk Hua said it was nothing to worry about; it was just the moisture-proof lacquer that had adhered to the back of the door, now frozen into powder.

As the hall door opened a gap, it wouldn’t budge any further, as if the door hinges had rusted shut. I shone my flashlight inside, but the empty spirit hall revealed nothing; the darkness inside seemed to absorb the light.

Ye Cheng was eager to go in, but he was stopped by the胖子. He turned to ask the oil bottle: “Little brother, you should check first if there are any hidden traps or mechanisms in this place?”

The oil bottle felt around the door and examined the relief carvings for quite a while, then shook his head, indicating he couldn’t be sure: “You all stay behind me and don’t speak.”

The words of this person must be stopped; it has already become our consensus. Fatty and I nodded vigorously, and several people took out their self-defense items.

The muffled oil bottle swiftly moved, stepping over the knee-high threshold and leading the way inside. We followed closely behind, crossing the threshold. The moment we stepped into the darkness inside, I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of strangeness wash over me.

I suddenly thought that for nearly a thousand years, we might be the first group of people to step in here. What could have happened in this enormous palace, which has been unobserved for a millennium?