The next morning, the convoy set off again. Leaving behind the small village called Lanco, we ventured deeper into the Gobi Desert, heading towards an uninhabited area on the map where nothing exists. This meant there were no basic roads created by vehicles; beneath the wheels lay land that had not been reached by anyone for decades or even centuries. The road conditions, or rather the terrain, were even worse. The so-called off-road vehicles moved cautiously on such roads, as one could never know if there were rocks or deep pits hidden beneath the dust of the Gobi. The leader, Danzhu Zhuoma, had to rely on wind-eroded rocks and river valleys to find markers for navigation, forcing the convoy to draw close to the steep slopes near those rocky mountains.

Under the blazing sun, combined with extreme bumps, those who were initially excited were almost immediately worn down. One by one, people wilted under the sun, and while some began racing at first, they soon fell into an orderly line.

In so-called exploration and geological survey activities, moving through the desert Gobi is entirely different from adventures in jungles or oceans. Both oceans and jungles are filled with abundant resources; this means that as long as you have survival skills, you can live for a long time in either of those places. But the desert Gobi is the complete opposite. Here, there is only sand, and even if you had extraordinary abilities, you would not be able to find anything to sustain life in the desert. This is why almost all Gobi deserts are referred to as “lands of death.” An Ning and the others were entering such a place for the first time, lacking experience, and this kind of setback was to be expected.

I too was feeling dizzy from the sun, watching the swirling yellow dust outside, and I had already begun to feel like retreating. However, the message that Danzhu Zhuoma had sent to me and the silent oil bottle yesterday forced me to make up my mind. Thinking about what happened last night, I felt an indescribable pressure.

It is among you.

Who is it?

In Wen Jin’s notes, there were many mentions of how for the past twenty years, she had been avoiding the search for “it.” What exactly is this “it”? What concerns me is why it is referred to as “it” rather than “he/she”? Could it be that this “it” among us is not human? Such speculation is truly unsettling.

As we entered the route into the uninhabited area, we followed a dried-up riverbed. The Qaidam Basin was originally a place where rivers gathered, with most rivers originating from the snow peaks of the Tangula and Kunlun mountains. However, due to climate change in the past decade, many major rivers have diverted underground, not to mention the smaller streams. We traveled along the riverbed, discovering that there were tall wormwood plants everywhere. It seemed that no water had passed through here for two or three years, and in a few more years, this riverbed would disappear as well.

Three days later, when we reach the end of the riverbed, the Gobi will turn into a desert. However, the desert within the Qaidam Basin is not extensive; it resembles a series of spots scattered in the center of the basin. Ordinary herders do not venture into the desert because it is inhabited by demons and lacks the grass needed for their cattle and sheep. Dama Zhuoma said that bypassing that desert leads to the Salt Mountain Pass, where she and Wenjin’s group parted ways years ago. There is a large area of strange stones that looks like a giant city gate, making it easy to find. Further in lies the place where the desert, the lakes, and the salt marshes converge; these elements devour one another, and the landscape changes daily, so even the most experienced guides dare not enter.

However, An Ning and the others have GPS, so they are not too worried about getting lost, even though Zaxi keeps reminding them that machines can break down, especially in the Gobi, where the temperature difference between day and night can exceed fifty degrees Celsius.

After driving along the riverbed for two days, a strong wind picked up. If this were in the desert, such wind would be deadly. Fortunately, in the Gobi, it only stirred up a large cloud of yellow sand, forcing us to increase the distance between vehicles to over a hundred meters. Visibility dropped to nearly zero, and we had to reduce our speed to the minimum. After battling the wind for half a day, both the vehicle and the driver reached their limits; we could see nothing, hear nothing, and the radio was useless—we could no longer drive forward.

The Caucasian driver was undeterred, but eventually, we could not tell if the vehicle was moving or in which direction. He had no choice but to stop, turn the vehicle to face the wind to prevent sand from entering the engine, and wait for the strong wind to pass.

The car was nearly shaking from the wind, and the windows rattled from the sand hitting them. We had no idea about the situation of the other vehicles, which was truly terrifying. I looked outside; it was a swirling blackness. You could tell that it was thick sand and not just darkness, yet there was nothing we could do.

After waiting in the car for about ten minutes, the wind suddenly intensified again. I felt the entire vehicle vibrating, as if it were about to lift off the ground.

The Caucasian driver showed a look of fear and turned to me, asking, “Have you ever encountered something like this before?”

I thought to myself, “How could that be possible?” Seeing his panic, I tried to reassure him, saying that the weight of the Land Rover would definitely protect us. But just as I finished speaking, there was a loud “bang,” as if something had collided with the Land Rover. The entire vehicle shook, and the alarm went off.

I thought a vehicle behind us, unable to see the road, had crashed into us, so I pressed my eyes against the window. The Caucasian driver leaned over to look as well.

The blackness outside was even denser than before, but because the sand was solid, it left contours as it swept past objects. If there were vehicles, we might be able to see their headlights.

However, there were no lights visible outside. Just as I was puzzled, the Caucasian driver suddenly screamed, grabbing me to look back. I turned my head and saw, outside the window on the other side, a strange shadow appearing in the sandstorm.

The black shadow outside the window was blurry, but it was clearly very close to the glass. Squinting to see, it seemed to be a human figure. But in such a strong wind, how could anyone be outside? Wasn’t that courting death?

We hadn’t had time to be surprised when the shadow moved. It seemed to be groping at the car window, trying to find a way to open it. However, the Land Rover was very well sealed, and after a long time of searching, it couldn’t find a gap. Then, we saw a face pressed against the window. The light inside the car illuminated its goggles.

I immediately recognized that it was the kind of goggles used by An Ning and the others, and I let out a sigh of relief, thinking to myself, who the hell is this? Why is he getting out in such strong wind? Could it be that the car that crashed into us earlier was his?

The person outside also saw us in the car and began to knock on the window, pointing at the car door, as if he was anxious for us to get out. I looked at the weather outside and thought to myself, no way in hell am I doing that!

Before I could finish my thought, suddenly another shadow with goggles appeared on the other side of the window. That person was shining a light and also knocking on the window, both sides knocking urgently.

I sensed something was wrong; perhaps something had happened, and they wanted us to get out and help. So I grabbed my cloak and goggles. The Caucasian man pulled out two mining lamps, turned them on, and handed one to me.

We both took a deep breath and forcefully opened the car door. In an instant, a gust of sand and dust rushed in. Although I was prepared, I was still blown back into the car. I used my foot to brace against the door to keep it from closing. With all my might, I pushed again, ducked my head, and finally squeezed out, being dragged out by someone outside. The Caucasian man who got out on the other side was directly knocked down to the ground, and his curses were blown away several meters by the wind. All around us was the sound of the wind that could pierce through eardrums and the noise of dust rubbing against the wind. This sound wasn’t very loud, but it drowned out all other noises, including our breathing.

As soon as my feet hit the ground outside on the Gobi, I sensed something was off. Why was the ground level higher? I bent my body low to avoid being blown over and shone the mining lamp at my car. When I saw it, I was dumbfounded. Damn, one of the wheels was already gone, and the car was tilted at a thirty-degree angle. The part where I would step was already buried in the sand of the riverbed, and the car was slowly sinking down. It seemed like we were on a quicksand bed. No wonder the car wouldn’t move no matter how we tried.

Without the car, we were doomed. I panicked and rushed to lift the car, but as soon as I stepped onto the edge of the vehicle, a force pulled my foot down, like a whirlpool in water. I quickly jumped back. At that moment, the person who had just been knocking on our window grabbed me and struggled to gesture, saying the car was hopeless, and we had to leave, or we would also sink.

He was bundled up tightly, his mouth wrapped in the cloak. I knew he was trying to speak, but I couldn’t hear anything. I didn’t know who he was, but the gestures he made were factual. So I nodded and gestured to him, asking where to go. He pointed to our trunk, indicating for me to grab my things, then made a forward motion with both hands.

This was diving sign language, meaning “search.” It seemed that many people still inside the car might not know that it had already driven into quicksand. We had to go over and inform them; otherwise, these Land Rovers would turn into iron coffins worth over a million.

I nodded at that person, made an OK gesture, then opened the trunk of the car to take out my gear, almost hunched over like an old man while completing this simple task. At that moment, my ears were already ringing; it felt as if the surrounding sounds had vanished, leaving behind a profound silence, reminiscent of watching a silent film—an immersive, three-dimensional silent film.

As I closed the trunk, I noticed that it had already caved in, as if it had brushed against some colossal object. I recalled the vibrations from the car and shone my miner’s lamp around, but saw nothing—only the shadow of a Caucasian urging me to hurry up.

I gathered my thoughts, thinking that perhaps it was a stone blown over by the wind that had caused the damage, and followed the shadows as we crouched and moved backward.

After walking what felt like over eighty meters—perhaps it was much more—we finally spotted the headlights of the next vehicle. This car had its front end lifted, and as we approached, we saw that the occupants had already fled. We found them about ten meters behind the car; one person had lost his goggles and was crying out in pain, his eyes full of sand. We formed a windbreak around him, wrapping his eyes with a towel.

We helped him up and continued forward. Soon, we called out to another vehicle, where three guys were playing cards. We jumped on the roof for a long time, yet they didn’t respond. Finally, I smashed their window with a rock; by then, half the car was already submerged in the riverbed.

After dragging them out, the wind had picked up so much that it was lifting the stones off the ground; hard projectiles were whizzing past us like bullets, and getting hit would mean disaster. One person got struck on the bridge of his nose by a flying stone, blood pouring out. Someone gestured that it was too dangerous to continue, so we had no choice but to temporarily halt our search and crouch down to avoid the barrage of stones.

Several people took out hard objects from their gear. I pulled out a stainless steel lunchbox to shield my face, while the Caucasian retrieved his Bible. However, before he could position it properly, the wind flipped the pages open, and suddenly all the paper disintegrated into shreds, leaving him with only a fragment of the black cover.

I couldn’t help but laugh, raising my voice to shout, “That’s definitely a pirated copy!” But before I could finish, a stone hit my lunchbox, sending sparks flying. The lunchbox, already weakened by the force of the wind, slipped from my grasp and vanished without a trace.

I was terrified; if it had hit my head, it would have been a bloody disaster. I could only hunch down tightly, pressing my head close to the ground.

At that moment, everything suddenly lit up. A blazing flash shot past us from one side, startling us all. I thought to myself, what on earth was that, moving so fast? Before I could react, three more bright flashes appeared ahead, speeding toward us and sweeping past our sides. Then I caught a familiar scent—the smell of magnesium burning at high temperatures. I immediately realized what those flashes were—signal flares wrapped in the wind.

I couldn’t help but feel furious, thinking about which idiot had the audacity to fire off signal flares in this weather, hoping the wind wouldn’t kill us but instead trying to burn us alive? A fireball traveling at over 160 kilometers per hour at a thousand degrees Celsius would surely be fatal if it hit us.

But upon second thought, I realized something was wrong. This group of people was well-trained; how could they act recklessly? In an expedition, firing a signal flare is a communication method that is only used in emergencies because of its wide range and high ammunition consumption. Typically, it is only used when facing significant danger or when the communication target is too far away. Now, under such harsh conditions, they were actually using signal flares, which suggested that something must have gone wrong ahead.

I glanced at the people around me; they all shared the same thought. I gestured for the three uninjured individuals to stand up. We needed to go and check it out. If they needed help or someone was injured, we couldn’t leave them without assistance.

This was not a task that could be done on a whim or through individual heroism. As soon as I stood up, a rock hit my shoulder. We all moved our packs to the front as makeshift shields, adjusted our compass, and headed in the direction from which the signal flare had come, while also being wary of any sudden appearances of additional flares.

After walking for a while, we were unsure if we had strayed off course. However, over a hundred meters away, we spotted three vehicles clustered together, but there was no one in the center of the vehicles; they had already left. We searched around the vehicles but found no people, though the equipment inside had not been taken.

The vehicles were sinking into the ground. We opened the rear hatch, thinking we should at least salvage the equipment. Just as I was about to climb into one of the vehicles, another signal flare shot up, passing far away from us. With that flash, we realized the location from which the flare had been fired was now to our left, not very far from us. It seemed our direction was indeed off. Or perhaps the person firing the flare was moving themselves.

We shouldered our gear; although we were exhausted, the wind was less of a hindrance, allowing us to stabilize our pace as we walked toward the flare’s launch point. As we walked, we were suddenly surprised to see the silhouette of a massive object emerging from the swirling dust ahead.

In the howling wind, we bent our bodies, supporting each other as we peered through the sandstorm at the enormous outline. We were all taken aback, momentarily forgetting whether we should continue forward.

The Caucasian next to me gestured and asked what that thing was. This guy had a habitual way of thinking: since he was in China, he assumed I, as a Chinese person, should know what everything was in China.

I shook my head, signaling him not to be foolish; I had no idea either.

Normally, without a doubt, less than two hundred meters ahead of us, if it wasn’t a middle-aged, overweight Ultraman, it should be a massive rock formation—this was something anyone would immediately think of. However, the path we had taken to get here was completely flat, and we hadn’t seen such a tall rock formation.

Where did this rock formation come from? Had we all collectively spaced out and not noticed it? I thought to myself, knowing that was impossible. First and foremost, we had been looking for such rock formations along the way because we needed shaded areas to rest. The shady side of such rock formations is a must-have resting place for any expedition team. And typically, there aren’t many isolated rock formations on the Gobi Desert, so if there were any, we would have definitely noticed.

“However, I can’t worry about so much right now. This large rock face is a great place to seek shelter from the wind. Those signal flares might be notifying us that we have found a safe spot. I started to lead the way towards the rock face, and soon I could clearly feel that the closer I got to the rocks, the less the wind blew, and I could use my strength more effectively. Halfway there, I could already see the flickering lights of five or six mining lamps ahead.

I was overjoyed and dashed towards the lights, battling against the fierce wind, taking uneven steps as I rushed forward. However, after running for a long time, it seemed that the lights were not getting any closer. Damn, it’s so far away, I thought, and as I was already exhausted, I slowed down and called out to the people beside me to wait. I felt that something was off.

But when I turned around, I was stunned. There was no one around me; all I could see in front, behind, and to the sides was rolling sand and endless darkness.”