We moved almost everything we could over here and even prepared a few buckets of mud. We didn’t dare to light a big bonfire, so we made a small charcoal pile. For dinner, the fat guy didn’t even dare to cook canned food in it, setting up the stove outside the ruins.

We estimated that those snakes would definitely start moving after the mist settled, so we weren’t in a hurry at dusk. I helped the fat guy cook, while the oil bottle kept watch for us from above.

But the fat guy was quick in his movements, and I actually couldn’t help much; after opening the can, I just stood there in a daze. The fat guy was annoyed with me acting like this. He said I was just like Lin Daiyu, always pondering things. There aren’t that many things in this world worth thinking about; living without a care will still lead to death. Whether you scheme or not, the end is the same; why bother about the entanglements in between?

I was a bit surprised to hear him say something so literary as “entanglement.” Upon reflection, I realized he was referring to “J Ba Dan,” and I couldn’t help but smile wryly.

Just as I was pondering this, I heard the fat guy call me: “Hey, Tian Zhen, what do you think that guy is doing?”

I snapped back to reality, looked up, and saw the oil bottle inside the temple rubbing something on the stone wall. I shouted, “What’s going on?”

The oil bottle didn’t respond to me and continued with his work; he might not have heard me. I had almost finished my tasks and was intrigued, so I put down the can opener and climbed up. I circled around from the temple corridor to his side and saw he was using charcoal from the bonfire to smear the wall, as if he wanted to make a rubbing of something. I asked him what he was doing, and he pointed to a nearby stone, saying, “I just discovered this.”

A large section of the wall had been blackened. I blew on it and found that the stone wall had reliefs that were almost worn smooth.

“It’s basically invisible in sunlight; only with the charcoal can you see the shadows and distinguish them,” he said, picking up another piece from the bonfire to apply.

As the black charcoal was smeared on the rock, the light and shadow changed. I moved a bit, found a suitable position, and the reliefs on the stone became visible. At first glance, I saw a multitude of snakes. It was hard to distinguish; the light and shadows danced, and the snake shapes flickered as if they were alive.

The oil bottle continued to smear, and we began to see ancient reliefs appear on the rocks. Despite the passage of so many years, they still retained their spirit and form, emerging like magic under the oil bottle’s application.

After he finished, he stood unsteadily, and I immediately supported him. After taking a look, he said, “This depicts the stories of those snakes.”

“What does it say?” I asked, as I couldn’t see it very clearly.

“I can’t understand it all at once,” he replied. “It needs to be pondered slowly.”

I was very interested in this, and we hadn’t seen much of the historical remnants here along the way. Our ignorance about this place was the most direct reason for our current situation, so I shifted my body in search of the best angle and took the time to look carefully.

Looking at one relief after another, I found them all confusing, and I had no idea what they meant. The reliefs expressed many things; some seemed to be about sacrifices, while others appeared to depict a ritual. It was hard to say anything definite about them.

Looking at it half-guessing and half-conjecturing, it seemed that several images were depicting the ancestors here, worshipping these venomous snakes with combs. They were throwing clay pots one by one into some holes, reminiscent of the stone towers with square holes seen along the road, as numerous venomous snakes began to burrow into the broken pots. A priest was conducting the ceremony, while many people knelt around.

It turned out that these offerings were meant for the snakes here. Could it be that the people regarded these venomous snakes as gods? However, this isn’t surprising; snake worship is quite common. Ancient people did not understand the toxicity of venomous snakes; they only knew that a single bite could lead to death. Seeing such a small wound cause death would lead them to believe it was due to some magical power. Many ethnic minorities in China worship snakes.

These combed snakes might enjoy eating the eggs of the corpse tortoise king, but the eggs of the corpse tortoise king should be highly toxic. Which is more poisonous, this snake or the corpse tortoise?

The mute oil bottle shifted its position, and beside it was a relief sculpture depicting many figures wielding spears, engaged in battle with the ancestors. Many bodies were pierced by spears; it seemed to be a war.

The situation appeared unfavorable for the Western Queen Mother’s nation, as her numbers were clearly much fewer than the opposing side. Moreover, the Western Queen Mother’s forces consisted entirely of infantry, while the opposing army still had cavalry. The enemy commander was positioned at the back of the line, seated in a chariot pulled by eight horses. The relief did not depict the figure of the Western Queen Mother. All the relief sculptures were exquisitely crafted, with even the facial features finely carved, lifelike, clearly the work of top craftsmen.

“This is… war…” the mute oil bottle murmured.

“It seems the Western Queen Mother’s nation has been invaded, and the opposing side is a relatively powerful civilization, possibly Loulan or the Northern Xiongnu,” I said. “These people’s clothing styles are hard to discern, but the weapons resemble those from the Central Plains, so they should be from Loulan. The one in the chariot is likely the king of Loulan.”

After saying this, I felt it made sense, but the mute oil bottle did not pay attention to my words; instead, he reached out to touch the commander in the chariot, frowning.

I thought to myself: What’s wrong? Suddenly, he lifted his hand and pointed at the enemy leader, saying to me, “I know this person.”