Professor Chen spoke of navigating the abyssal depths using the Yinhuo (Underworld Fire). The sole survivor of the shipwreck, recounting his rescue, described this rare natural phenomenon to those who saved him: the underwater fire illuminated the sea surface, casting light hundreds of meters away. Yet, the light was fleeting, extinguished almost instantly, like the ephemeral bloom of the Tan Hua flower. Ancient Chinese maritime texts also mention similar occurrences. Feng Shui secrets, capable of discerning the cosmos, offer explanations for mountains, rivers, lakes, and seas alike, as the seabed itself contains features analogous to terrestrial landscapes—mountains, canyons, rivers, and basins. In Feng Shui, especially concerning vast bodies of water where the focus shifts primarily to Qi—termed Haiqi (Sea Energy)—analysis relies heavily on the concepts of Form (Xing), Momentum (Shi), Principle (Li), and Energy (Qi). Though Professor Chen knew nothing of Feng Shui, his extensive reading informed him of this long-held belief.

I was surprised that Professor Chen connected the Yinhuo with Haiqi, and could only reply, "Analyzing this through the sixteen-character secret art of Yin-Yang Feng Shui that I know, there are three possibilities. Firstly, where two mountains converge beneath the sea, Haiqi must gather, condensing until it manifests as a Shen (mirage). The flickering underwater fire could be a sighting of an extraordinary Haishijielou (Fata Morgana), which wouldn't be surprising. Secondly, the accumulation of Haiqi could cause an eruption of undersea oil, gas, or a submarine volcano. The third possibility is the most likely: legend speaks of the 'Dragon Lantern' (Longdeng) among the Southern Dragon Veins, also known as 'Dragon Fire' (Longhuo). The world has four kinds of fire: Ghost Fire, Sky Fire, Human Fire, and Dragon Fire. Human Fire is extinguished by water, but Dragon Fire burns brighter when meeting water. If the Yinhuo is indeed powerful, it must be the Longdeng."

However, I immediately cautioned Professor Chen, "The arts of the Qing Wu might hold some truth, but to believe in them blindly is to court madness. Feng Shui is ultimately an ancient discipline. While it embodies the correspondence between Heaven and humanity, its contents inevitably contain elements that are excessively esoteric. Take, for instance, the concept of Longdeng and Longhuo; these claims should probably not be taken as absolute fact."

But Professor Chen countered, "Within the Liuhe (Six Harmonies), everything exists. The concepts of Haiqi and Haishen may indeed seem ethereal and unsubstantial, but the wisdom of the ancients must not be underestimated. Some phenomena appear unreal simply because our groundwork is insufficient, our research too shallow, and we have yet to grasp the intent of those who came before us. My life has been devoted to studying ancient Western Regions culture. In my youth, I participated in an archaeological excavation near ancient Lianyungang—an experience I will never forget. We unearthed a Zhou Dynasty bronze vessel, known as the King Mu of Zhou Yanshen Yu. It was a ritual food vessel, adorned with Yi patterns set against a ground of thunder motifs—a creation of magnificent and awe-inspiring design, a pinnacle of bronze artistry."

During that era, bronze, much like jade, was considered a vessel of state importance. To commemorate significant historical events, the ornamentation on the Yanshen Yu recorded major occurrences. The ancients spoke of Guixu as a bottomless abyss between Heaven and Earth, where all the world's waters—rivers, lakes, and seas—flowed but could never fill it. They inaccurately placed its location in the East Sea. I suspect it actually refers to the 'Sea Eye' in the South China Sea. The Yanshen Yu records a place at the very end of the South Sea called the Kingdom of Hengtian—today more commonly referred to as the Land of Heaven-Haters. The Hengtian tribe controlled the secret of Dragon Fire. The Son of Heaven dispatched emissaries in hopes of borrowing the Dragon Fire to cast the Heavenly Tripod; the Yanshen Yu was cast for this very purpose.

This suggests the existence of Dragon Fire in the South China Sea, though modern scholars have yet to lift the veil on this mysterious history and ascertain the truth of Longhuo. Records of the Hengtian tribe are sparse throughout history; to this day, no ruins of this civilization have been found, and even the existence of the tribe remains hotly debated. Some speculate that geological shifts have submerged the remains of the Kingdom of Hengtian beneath the ocean floor. The underwater Yinhuo witnessed later in the Coral Spiral might well be the area where the Hengtian culture once thrived.

Professor Chen explained everything in painstaking detail, and I finally understood: all the dragon veins of the world originate from Kunlun, save for the Southern Vein, which rises from Emei, follows the river eastward, plunges south into the mountains near Haiyan, and then transforms into nine branches and thirteen tributaries beneath the sea. The location of the Dragon Fire is where two branches of the Southern Vein converge. The sunken ship is likely there. Although that stretch of ocean is crisscrossed by abyssal trenches, the seabed is predominantly coral reef. If the ship truly sank there, it probably didn't go too deep, and salvage might not be overly difficult. The challenges lie in the complex underwater topography and the harsh marine environment, which render traditional detection methods useless. After much thought, the only viable approach is to utilize the descriptions of the Southern Vein within the secret Feng Shui arts to locate the source of the Yinhuo—visible only occasionally—and then conduct a carpet search around that epicenter to find the wreck.

The Coral Spiral region, as its name implies, features underwater terrain as complex as a vortex, further compounded by year-round storms and unpredictable tidal fluctuations. Many parties are now eyeing this wreck because it lies in a jurisdiction with minimal oversight. According to international conventions, anything recovered belongs entirely to the entity that files the claim. If we don't retrieve the King Qin Bone-Revealing Mirror (Zhaogujing) from the wreck soon, this priceless national treasure risks being lost overseas again.

For these reasons, Professor Chen hoped I would cooperate with a professional salvage team to locate the ship. Only the methods of the Mojin Xiaowei—who survey the stars above and the earth's veins below—are practical enough to accurately track the Dragon Fire. He had no other recourse. Professor Chen concluded with melancholy, "My life is nearly spent. I have diligently researched for decades, but I’ve only chewed on the dry bones of books. Even now, in my old age, I haven't made a single original breakthrough. A scholar who amounts to nothing is useless. To achieve something truly great requires real action, the kind only people with genuine ability can execute. I have no other desire; seeing the King Qin Bone-Revealing Mirror recovered before I die will allow me to close my eyes in peace."

Hearing Professor Chen’s heartfelt plea, I knew he wouldn't have sought us out if he had other options. Normally, this would be his affair, and I wouldn't refuse. But the complication lay with Fatty and Big Gold Tooth. Everyone was already scheduled to depart abroad; must I force them to risk the sea again? Persuading them would be impossible. While the Zhaogujing is precious, respecting history must come secondary to respecting life. No antique, however valuable, outweighs a human life. Moreover, the lurking, unpredictable Yinhuo and Longdeng are hardly easy to find.

With this in mind, I glanced at the others. Shirley Yang hadn't nodded, but her expression suggested assent; knowing her willful nature, she’d agree even without my blessing. I noticed Fatty and Big Gold Tooth subtly watching me, clearly waiting for my final decision. Their expressions indicated zero interest in the matter; they owed no favors to Professor Chen, and recovering the Zhaogujing offered them no personal gain. Having been a soldier for so many years, I deeply understood a core military tenet: effective operations always begin with morale work. Without fighting spirit, the battle cannot be won. I could find no justification to ask them to risk their lives for this venture, so I stiffened my resolve and didn't immediately agree, telling the Professor I needed a few days to consider; this was no trivial matter that could be accepted instantly.

As we walked back, snowflakes began to fall. Fatty and I didn't take Shirley Yang's car; the three of us walked and chatted under the glow of the streetlights on the snowy ground, discussing the task Professor Chen had given us. Big Gold Tooth opined, "My two masters, we absolutely cannot agree to this. This murky water is best left unstirred. If we manage to pull up the Zhaogujing, fine. If we fail, or if anything goes wrong, old man Chen won't let us off the hook, will he? Besides, I lived by the sea as a child; things in the ocean are no joke. And searching for this Yinhuo—the vast, boundless sea—where the heck are we supposed to start looking? It’s good that Master Hu kept his wits about him. Under Miss Yang’s fiercely scrutinizing gaze, he managed to remain calm and composed, sticking to his principles and not committing to the old man..."

Fatty chimed in, "Commander Hu, I honestly thought, given your usual temperament, you'd have agreed immediately. I was sweating bullets for you just now, worried sick. But you’re something else, holding your ground so shamelessly! I actually thought you were a man of absolute selflessness before, putting the public before the private. Turns out you have quite a bit of self-interest tucked away."

I snapped back, "Stop your goddamn nonsense, the two of you! What is 'absolute selflessness'? Have I needed to teach you this after all these years? Half of the character for 'Public' (Gong) is exactly half of the character for 'Private' (Si). That's why 'public' and 'private' have always been intertwined: there is public in private, and private in public. If you talk about strict separation of public and private, or absolute selflessness, that's all crap. Any banner claiming 'the greater good' always has at least half a private motive behind it. See how insightful our ancestors were when they created the characters? Why else would they construct Gong like that? They understood human nature to the very core. The design of these two characters touches the soul! But I admit, the reason I didn't instantly agree at Professor Chen's was indeed selfish. I can’t just indulge in a moment of noble enthusiasm and overextend my loyalty. We are about to head to America, with the five continents in our sights—that is the paramount concern. Even if we go to America, make our fortune, and realize the American Dream, it won’t be too late to help him salvage the Zhaogujing, would it?"

Though I spoke this way, I knew perfectly well that Professor Chen was unyielding once his mind was set; nine oxen couldn't pull him back. Moreover, if I refused to help this time, I wouldn't even get past the hurdle of Shirley Yang. Yet, even if I were willing to assist wholeheartedly, I had absolutely no confidence or grasp on this needle-in-a-haystack task at sea; going would be futile. Anything with less than a thirty percent chance of success was out of the question. This whole situation was truly taxing.

As we reached home, we noticed someone waiting for us at the entrance of the courtyard. The visitor turned out to be none other than Uncle Ming, the bankrupt Hong Kong businessman. I hadn't heard from him in a while; I'd assumed he was either chasing gold in America or securing funds back in Hong Kong. I hadn't expected him to still be in Beijing.

Uncle Ming explained his purpose. He had called yesterday to invite the group out for a meal, but after waiting in vain, he decided to pay a personal visit. He wanted to discuss partnering up for business ventures once we moved to America.

Fatty grinned when he saw Uncle Ming, throwing an arm around him. "Well, look at the old monkey now, he seems to be in good spirits. Is this a final burst of energy before the end? Haven't had any fugue states lately, have you?"

Uncle Ming quickly protested, "Fatty, please stop joking! I reserved a table for you at the restaurant, and you wouldn't grace me with your presence, making me wait half the night. Your Uncle Ming has serious business to discuss with you..."

Fatty intended to dismiss Uncle Ming, but I suddenly remembered that Uncle Ming had spent years running boats in Southeast Asia. Why not ask him about maritime matters and see if he possessed any useful intelligence? I stopped Fatty and ushered Uncle Ming inside. Seeing he hadn't eaten, I asked Big Gold Tooth to find something for him.

After we were seated inside, I cut straight to the chase, asking Uncle Ming about the sea. As expected, Uncle Ming answered fluently, "I've sailed for most of my life; there's nothing about the ocean I don't know. If you don't believe me, ask around. Among the sea bandits and merchants in Southeast Asia, they all give Lei Xianming (Uncle Ming) a thumbs-up for praise. I, this old sailor, can read the wind and water, and I know the seabed topography like the back of my hand..."

Impatient with his boasting, I interrupted before he finished and asked directly if he knew anything about Yinhuo in the Coral Spiral region. Upon hearing this, Uncle Ming’s smug expression vanished instantly. His facial muscles seemed to freeze, and his eyes glazed over for a moment. In that instant, he appeared to be recalling a truly terrifying experience from his sailing days in the Coral Sea.