I felt a bit nauseous, and it was clear that Wu Laosi and the others hadn’t expected that these jars contained such things; they all wore expressions of disgust and surprise. As other people noticed the crowd gathering, they gradually came over. A few Tibetan drivers, who had never seen anything like this, were curious and leaned in to take a look.

I covered my nose and watched as Wu Laosi put on gloves and picked up the head, cleaning off the dirt on it. This thing was very ancient, but the hair was still quite resilient, while the flesh had completely rotted away. As he removed the dirt, I could see the shriveled skin and hollow eye sockets. This was a skull from ancient times.

The person next to me, who was wearing glasses, compared the diameter of the head to that of the jar’s opening: the skull was large, and the jar’s opening was small, clearly indicating that the head could not fit inside the jar.

“What’s going on here?” I asked him.

“This is the bizarre tradition of the Xiwangmu tribe. This must be a slave from other tribes in the Western Regions. It’s possible that when he was two or three years old, his head was put into this jar, and he continued to grow until adulthood, unable to get food through the gap between his neck and the jar. By that time, his head would have been stuck for a long time, and then they would chop off his head, seal the jar, and offer it as a sacrifice to Xiwangmu. This is the tradition of head sacrifices,” Siyan said.

“Wow, that’s so sinister. The Xiwangmu in our ‘Journey to the West’ is quite amiable, not like this cruel version,” someone exclaimed.

“That Xiwangmu is a more civilized version from the Central Plains. The real ancient legend depicts Xiwangmu as something like a fierce ghost, not a person at all,” someone educated him. “In those times, kindness couldn’t rule people; rulers relied on these mysterious, bizarre, and cruel rituals to enhance their supernatural power for governance.”

I asked Wu Laosi, “So why put the head in this jar? If they’re going to chop it off, why go through all this trouble?”

Wu Laosi replied, “Many tribes in the Western Regions believe that after a person dies, their soul flies out through the eyes or ears. Putting the head in a jar and then killing the person is to trap the soul inside the jar, making the sacrifice meaningful. After the ritual, these heads are generally piled together and either fed to crows or thrown into the sea to feed fish. This is similar in the Central Plains; we call it a ghost head pit. There’s a place called ‘Ren Tou Dun’ in Yansha, Yixian, Hebei, which is similar to this.”

Hearing this made my neck feel very uncomfortable. Such things only existed in primitive times, yet I sometimes really wondered who invented this first. When did ancient people start believing in such bloody practices?

“But how did he live with his head stuffed into such a jar since childhood?” someone asked.

“Life? Don’t get me wrong, the life of a sacrificial victim is quite privileged. Those chosen as sacrifices generally eat the best food, the offerings made to the gods, which are the finest in the entire tribe. They don’t have to do anything in their daily lives, and once they reach sexual maturity, they immediately mate with the most beautiful young women to conceive the next generation of sacrifices. To ensure that their necks grow thick quickly, their movements are restricted; some people become so fat that they are choked to death by the mouth of a clay pot before they even reach the right age.” One person remarked, “Compared to those slaves who toil outside and might not even live to thirty, living comfortably for over a decade and then dying a quick death might not be such a bad choice.”

The person stroked his chin and said, “That sounds pretty good. I’m not interested in food, but I am interested in the most beautiful young women. If I were a sacrificial victim, I would stop eating, let my neck not grow thick, and then I could…”

Before he could finish, the Tibetan drivers laughed. I smacked him on the head and scolded, “What on earth is going on in your head?”

Everyone laughed for a while, and then Wu Laosi began to wash a skull with a solution; it was an archaeological task. A few people gathered around to watch, but it wasn’t very interesting, so someone started clapping and told them to get back to work, preparing to retreat and fix the vehicles. Once we were ready, we set off.

Just as people were about to leave, suddenly, everyone heard a peculiar cold laugh, clear as day, coming from the crowd.

I broke out in a cold sweat, and several people stopped, looking at each other. From their expressions, I knew I wasn’t mistaken. My heart sank as I wondered what was happening. Who was laughing?

Before I could think too much, that cold laugh sounded again. This time, prepared, we all looked in the direction of the sound and discovered it was coming from a pile of human heads.

Wu Laosi was so frightened that he dropped the head he was holding onto the ground. My scalp tingled, and I thought, how could this be happening? At that moment, several people suddenly jumped up and screamed, with someone shouting, “Look, the head is moving!”

I rushed over to see that on one of the skulls in the pile, the dirt was cracking open, and the head was swaying as if it were alive. I could hardly breathe, thinking, how could this be possible? Just then, at the cracked spot, two blood-red little worms crawled out, each only the size of a fingernail, and they looked eerily familiar.

When I took a closer look, my mind buzzed, and I could hardly believe my eyes. I scrutinized again, and my soul nearly left my body. Those were several toad worms!

My legs went weak, and I almost stumbled back a few steps. I watched as two, three, four, and then a mass of red worms erupted from inside, exactly like what I had seen in the King Lu’s palace! They began to crawl everywhere.

“What the hell are these worms? I’ve never seen anything like this.” At that moment, someone was still curious, and I saw a Tibetan driver walk over to take a closer look. I shouted, “Don’t be an idiot! They’re poisonous, back off, don’t touch!”

The person turned to look at me, and just as he did, suddenly a giant toad flew up and landed on his shoulder. I shouted, “No!” but it was too late. He reflexively swatted at it, and with a cry of “Ah!” he recoiled as if burned. When he looked at his hand, he saw a wave of red rashes spreading across it.

People around us screamed and quickly backed away. He watched in horror as his hand rapidly turned red, and he shouted, “Medic! Medic!” before collapsing to the ground.

Some rushed to help him, while others ran towards the medic’s tent. I knew that person was done for, and cursed under my breath as I rushed to grab those who were approaching him, yelling, “Don’t touch him! Touch him and he’ll die! Don’t just stand there; think of a way to kill these bugs! If they all take flight, we’re finished!”

Only then did they react, starting to retreat and grab weapons. A few drivers took off their clothes and tried to swat at the bugs. However, it was useless; the bugs quickly scattered, and only a few were killed, while many more emerged. Soon, two more people let out blood-curdling screams.

In the chaos, Wu Laosi picked up a toolbox nearby and smashed it down on the head of a person. That head had already crumbled, and it shattered completely upon impact. I looked and gasped; the entire cranial cavity was almost like a beehive, filled with gray eggs and bugs, utterly disgusting.

I was drenched in cold sweat, realizing that the things the glasses-wearer said were completely untrustworthy. This head was definitely not just for sacrifice; it was more like a breeding ground for bugs. Could it be that these giant toads laid eggs in human brains? Damn it, if these bugs flew into the city, the traditional pests would be in serious trouble.

“Oh no, the other heads are moving too!” someone yelled. I didn’t have time to think about it; everyone quickly retreated, and then I started hearing a buzzing sound, with red lights taking off. Suddenly, several of them flew past my ears, causing me to instinctively shrink my neck.

In that moment, my first thought was that it was too late; a lot of people were going to die this time! Just as I finished that thought, someone else screamed in agony. I turned to look and saw Wu Laosi on the ground, writhing in pain. Looking towards the area with the clay pots, I saw a sea of red; the entire sandy ground was dotted with red spots. Countless giant toads had taken flight, and the air was filled with the sound of wings.

This was beyond handling; a single giant toad could wipe out everyone here, let alone ten thousand of them. I thought to myself, this is no offering; it’s clearly a weapon. This thing is like an atomic bomb from back then! Anyone who dared to defy it could just toss one into their city, and the whole city might be wiped out!

Now, we could only abandon the camp and escape. I rushed into the tent, where those resting had already heard the commotion and come out. Seeing me run over, they asked what was happening. I couldn’t explain, so I shouted for them not to ask and to run for their lives, saying we’d talk by the vehicles outside!

A few Tibetan drivers carried the Caucasian man out of the tent, while Zaxi had already run off with Ding Zhuo Ma, who had disappeared from sight.

As I watched people running out one after another, I felt a bit more at ease and rushed to call Anning. She had already been awakened and was just getting up when I dashed over, grabbed her, and started to run. She momentarily broke free and asked me what was going on.

I shouted, “Just run! Don’t ask any questions!” Before I could finish my sentence, a giant toad suddenly buzzed past my forehead, colliding with Anning’s shoulder and flipping over before coming to a stop.

Anning looked down in shock and tried to swat it away. Seeing this, I quickly grabbed her hand and forcefully blew the toad away, pulling her along as we ran outside.

Dun Youping and Black Glasses were waiting by the car; we needed to get to that place first. We ran wildly, not caring about anything else. After sprinting for about three to four hundred meters, I spotted a stone marker. My mind froze as I suddenly realized that I had no idea how to get out of here; only Zaxi could understand these stone markers.