I took the Dragon Talisman from Old Sheep’s hand and examined it closely. Fatty and Ding Sitian also crowded around, equally curious, but none of us could decipher what it was. The talisman was cast from bronze; while not a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its shape was bizarre, utterly unlike the dragons familiar to people today. It was about twenty centimeters long, possessed five claws, and depicted a coiled, serpentine body that seemed naturally formed. The dragon’s head was eyeless—a blind dragon indeed. The verdigris coating the bronze was so bright it seemed capable of illuminating bone, and holding it felt almost weightless, like a piece of cardboard. It was likely an artifact several millennia old.

I asked Old Sheep, “This Dragon Talisman seems incredibly ancient. Where did you acquire it? Does it have some connection to the Tortoise Bone Cave in the Hundred Eyes Grotto?”

Old Sheep gazed at the bronze Dragon Talisman with his cloudy eyes and said that he had picked it up from the burial goods inside the Yellow Weasel’s bronze coffin—an offering meant for the Great Immortal Huang. At that time, after narrowly escaping death in the Golden Well, no one had paid attention to Old Sheep casually pilfering an artifact from the bronze coffin while everyone else was still shaken from the ordeal.

Old Sheep only learned about the existence of this eyeless Dragon Talisman after hearing a slip of the tongue from an old Shaman years ago. Shamanism on the grasslands had almost vanished before the Liberation, largely replaced by Lamaism; only in the deep mountains and secluded valleys of the Greater Khingan Range did some practicing Shamanic sorcerers remain. One such elder, a descendant of Yuan Sect believers, knew a few secrets, though he wasn't aware the object was hidden in the Great Immortal Huang’s bronze coffin. He had merely mentioned such an item in passing. When Old Sheep emerged from the Golden Well, he accidentally saw the Dragon Talisman fall from the coffin onto the ground and simply pocketed it.

So, what exactly was this strange, eyeless bronze dragon? Legend held that the Yuan Sect recovered it from the countless turtle skeletons buried in the Hundred Eyes Grotto; its precise origin remains unknown. It might have been brought ashore by those giant turtles from the sea. Even the discipline of Qingwu Feng Shui could not explain whether the Turtle Slumber Site existed before the Turtle Slumber, or vice versa. It is true that auspicious Feng Shui spots like Turtle Burials or Crouching Ox formations exist in the world, but no one can definitively say whether these fortunate locations were formed by harnessing the immortal energy brought from the sea by the turtle remains.

It was because countless giant turtles had perished and been interred in the Hundred Eyes Grotto that the skeletons of turtles who had lived for ten thousand years retained the residual sea miasma of their long lives. This resulted in the strange spectacle of the Ghost Market and spectral shadows at the bottom of the cave. It was rumored that Dragon Fire burned deep beneath the seabed, a type of infernal flame entirely different from surface fire—it could not be extinguished by water, possessed immense heat, and could melt bronze and iron. The seas where these ancient turtles dwelled were permeated by the Yin essence drawn from ten-thousand-year-old shells. With the violent surge of Dragon Fire and sea miasma beneath the ocean floor, the turtle shells contained an invisible, ghost-fire-like hot wind. This likely gave rise to what Buddhist scriptures call the Fenfeng (Burning Wind)—a cold gale blowing from the depths of Hell. This Burning Wind, upon contact with anything containing flesh and fat, would instantly turn it into eternal nothingness.

These matters were mentioned in the journals left behind by those Russians, but unfortunately, the descriptions were scant, and the Russian language lacked specific Feng Shui terminology, requiring some terms to be transliterated. Fortunately, Old Sheep and I each possessed a smattering of knowledge, allowing us to piece together a rough picture. However, our interpretations of the core concepts varied widely. Old Sheep stubbornly adhered to the traditional view, believing that the Burning Wind was the manifestation of an evil dragon, precisely matching the Yuan Sect’s narrative: they both insisted it was the vengeful spirit of a calamitous dragon emerging from the Hundred Eyes Grotto to devour people and livestock. This ancient viewpoint probably had a strong connection to the Dragon Talisman found among the giant turtle bones. Although its origin was unknown, it predisposed people to a certain conclusion, which is why the markers of this blind dragon were carved onto the stone bricks of the Golden Well when the tomb of Great Immortal Huang was constructed.

At the time, I didn't believe in ghosts or dragons, yet I had no solid rebuttal. I only knew that the Sixteen-Character Secret Arts of Yin-Yang Feng Shui discussed the principles of Dragon Veins in Feng Shui, dissecting the Great Southern, Northern, and Central Veins. The Dragon Fire of the seabed was unique to the Southern Vein, and the energy of the Dragon Fire was actually condensed Hui Qi (stagnant/inauspicious energy). However, this fell under the category of the "Four Olds," and aside from casually flipping through the relevant pages when extremely bored, I had never truly pondered its profound meaning.

In the end, we could not reach any definitive conclusion; no one could persuade the other. Moreover, within the scope of academic debate, it was inappropriate to forcefully impose my perceived truth upon Old Sheep. In any case, once the Golden Well beneath the Turtle Slumber Site in the Hundred Eyes Grotto was destroyed, the Feng Shui of that location was utterly broken. The source of the Burning Wind plaguing the herdsmen was eliminated, and it would probably never reappear near the mountain pass again. Thus, all the suffering we endured had been worthwhile.

I returned the bronze talisman to Old Sheep, asking him what use it was keeping this relic if he didn't even know its function. The eyeless Dragon was peculiar enough, and furthermore, this object had accompanied the reanimated Yellow Weasel in the bronze coffin for who knows how many years, steeped in years of cold Yin energy and permeated by the stench of decay. Keeping it near a living person felt ominous.

Yet, Old Sheep absolutely refused to discard it, tucking it inside his coat, pressed against his skin. He seemed bound by some unbreakable fate with Great Immortal Huang’s spirit-summoning box; his blood brother, Yang Erdan, had died because of it. He needed something to remember him by, a form of closure for himself, and he entrusted us to keep this whole affair confidential.

I agreed to Old Sheep’s request. The group then began discussing how to leave the Hundred Eyes Grotto and coordinated a cover story to deflect responsibility once we returned to the pastoral area. As it was getting late, the area around the Hundred Eyes Grotto pass was infested with field rats, and large venomous centipedes emerged at night. We decided to wait until dawn to leave.

0[

However, plans often yield to unforeseen circumstances. The very next morning, just as dawn broke, a large contingent arrived at the Hundred Eyes Grotto. It turned out Commander Ni had been unable to keep the matter quiet. The Commune Revolutionary Committee in the Banner had learned that several cattle were lost from the grazing lands, and a group of educated youth and herdsmen had chased after them toward the Mongolian desert, having been out of contact for two days. The Committee dared not delay, fearing a new manifestation of class struggle, especially given the tense border situation, which demanded high vigilance. Consequently, they requested support from the Border Defense Forces overnight, and a cavalry company, led by local herdsmen, eventually searched the area and found the Hundred Eyes Grotto.

Old Sheep, Ding Sitian, Fatty, and I underwent rigorous interrogation and questioning. Fortunately, we were prepared and had standardized our story. It wasn't that we intentionally deceived the organization, but some truths simply couldn't be told as they were; revealing the full account to the authorities would certainly have escalated the situation. So, we steadfastly insisted that we had failed to locate the lost cattle, had gotten lost inside the Hundred Eyes Grotto, and were trapped there by beast attacks awaiting rescue. Then, I improvised, embellishing the tale: under the guidance of Mao Zedong Thought, which guaranteed victory, I reported how Fatty and I, while Old Sheep and Ding Sitian were injured and unconscious, carried forward the spirit of fearing neither hardship nor death, and used the Japanese devils’ cremation furnace to capture a Jinlin Gong (Golden-Scaled Python). I claimed this creature's bones were more valuable than platinum, but we claimed no credit; this success was entirely due to the correct leadership of the Revolutionary Committee.

The Committee, already aiming to establish this pastoral area as an advanced model for "grasping revolution and promoting production" in support of the Great Brigade of Agriculture and Herding, saw the capture of the Jinlin Gong by the educated youth and herdsmen as recovering significant losses, allowing the merits and demerits to cancel each other out. Thus, they did their best to suppress the deeper issues. After the review, we only received criticism and re-education, admonished to constantly engage in "struggling against self-interest and criticizing revisionism," conduct daily reports, and frequently practice self-criticism. They didn't pursue the other matters in depth. However, the Kangxi Imperial Saber Old Sheep privately possessed was discovered. We stammered that we had picked it up nearby, and it was immediately confiscated. Following this, all relics inside the Hundred Eyes Grotto were sealed or destroyed as deemed necessary—matters beyond our right to question or interfere with.

Subsequently, we were sent to the Banner’s hospital for treatment. Fortunately, our injuries were superficial, mostly cuts and bruises, nothing involving bones or major tissues. Fatty and I had only intended to visit the grasslands for recreation, but we encountered so many unexpected events. Just when we thought everything was over, the incident at the Hundred Eyes Grotto was far from concluded.

After being discharged, we visited Old Sheep at his yurt. He was quite badly injured, but Old Sheep adamantly refused to go to the hospital. He claimed the sight of white sheets made him uneasy and insisted on recovering at home. His son and daughter-in-law were honest and loyal herdsmen who cared for him devotedly at home.

After returning to the pastoral area, Old Sheep’s condition seemed to worsen abruptly. He lay down constantly, coughing incessantly. When he learned that Fatty, Ding Sitian, and I had returned from the hospital, he struggled to sit up to speak with us.

I once heard my father mention that in the rural areas of Shaanxi, old farmers never sent for doctors. If an old farmer developed a fever, he would smash a large eating bowl and use the sharp shard edge to make a small cut on his forehead to draw blood—considering the ailment cured. But now that the masses were masters of their own destiny, such folk remedies were ancient history. Fatty and I urged him, “That won’t do, you might have injured internal organs. You must go to the hospital for a check-up. The people’s hospital is here to treat the people, firmly serving the proletariat along the correct line. It’s not a Japanese devil’s research institute performing dissections on living people—what is there to fear?”

Ding Sitian also pleaded with Old Sheep to see a doctor quickly, hoping he would recover soon so she could hear his Qinqiang opera and matouqin (horse-head fiddle) playing again. Remaining at home in denial would only worsen his illness.

Old Sheep refused outright, hiding in the dark corner of the yurt, merely coughing. His son told us that since returning, Old Sheep had forbidden any light inside the yurt; he feared both light and fire. No one knew what affliction this was. Did the educated youth know what kind of sickness this was?

My education only extended to junior high school; I possessed no real culture. But this condition looked serious; if he wasn't sent to the hospital, his life might be in danger. However, the old man was too stubborn for us to use force. I decided to ask Ding Sitian to persuade him again, adopting a strategy that appealed to his spirit first.

Unexpectedly, Old Sheep suddenly sat up as if experiencing a sudden rally before death. He called the three of us educated youth and his son and daughter-in-law close. In the darkened confines of the yurt, he spoke to everyone. He said he knew exactly what was happening with his illness: he had offended the Great Immortal Huang, and whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the Great Immortal coming to claim his life; he definitely wouldn't survive the night.

Ding Sitian and I assumed Old Sheep had become delirious from his illness, and even his son and daughter-in-law looked bewildered. But Old Sheep continued, “This old body of mine should have died decades ago; living this long is a bonus. But after I die, I fear the Great Immortal Huang will not spare you people. Not only will the educated youth suffer misfortune, but even my descendants might be wiped out. Fortunately, I learned a method for dealing with yellow weasels from an old Shaman. If you follow my instructions after I pass, everything will be well from then on. Otherwise, sooner or later, you will all be destroyed by the yellow weasels. I, an old man, have struggled my whole life. I have few relatives, only this one son. Leaving behind a little bloodline is hard-won. I beg you educated youth not to fail me, not to let the Old Sheep lineage end.”

Old Sheep threatened to bite his tongue off and commit suicide. We were completely unprepared for this turn. Old Sheep was an old hand at navigating the world; he knew many things but never spoke of them. After surviving the calamity of the Hundred Eyes Grotto, Fatty and I and the others now believed that some things in the world truly couldn't be explained by common sense. Suspicion flickered within us: could those yellow weasels not truly be extinct? The thought of those ancient, sentient weasels even made my heart tremble a little. If they had truly marked us, having hidden enemies while exposed in the open, it would be almost impossible to defend against—a truly thorny situation.

Old Sheep’s son was both honest and filial, inheriting his father’s greatest trait: timidity and fear of trouble. Moreover, born before the Liberation, his mother had died early, and Old Sheep had raised him single-handedly, not nurtured by benevolent prosperity. His superstitions ran deep. Hearing his father say such things, he was so terrified he nearly soiled himself, hurriedly asking Old Sheep what should be done.

Old Sheep sighed and uttered an incredibly bizarre plan: “After I die tonight, the yellow weasels will surely come to howl over the body. You absolutely must do this, and then this, and so on…”