As an explorer, the motivations driving one to constantly risk danger are, at the very least, founded on four pillars: curiosity, ambition, faith, and duty. I don't know if grave robbers qualify as professional explorers, but we certainly possess all four of these drives. The crucial thing is that having a legitimate excuse allows us to better unleash our pent-up vigor. The four of us sipped steaming noodle soup, discussing the potential returns from journeying to the South China Sea's abyssal eye. The consensus was that the gains would be immeasurable. The Moon-Bright Pearl, capable of illuminating the entire seabed, is the crystallized essence of millions of years of ocean qi; one cannot guess the size of the giant pearls held by ancient oysters within the Coral Spiral without venturing to the ocean floor itself.

The thought of inexhaustible treasures sent our minds soaring to distant lands, making us yearn to sprout wings and fly there immediately. Big Gold Tooth declared, "The first time I met Master Hu and Fatty back in Panjiayuan, I knew the two of you were extraordinary. Following you, I was bound to strike it rich eventually. That’s what you call having a discerning eye for heroes! Now we’re about to make a huge splash in America, but we’re short on capital. If only we could wish for ice and it would hail from the sky—and now, here’s this massive unclaimed treasure at the sea eye! In this brother’s humble opinion, with Master Hu’s secret tomb-raiding arts, combined with Miss Yang’s inherited expertise in Moving Mountains and Filling Seas, this fortune is ours and ours alone."

Fatty exclaimed, "It’s more than wishing for ice and having it hail—it’s like wishing for a wife and having a Lin Daiyu drop from the sky! Commander Hu, stop dawdling. Hurry up and go discuss this with Merchant Yang. Once you’ve ironed things out, can we depart tonight?"

I wondered why they were all so agitated. It seemed Marx was right: money is the spiritual sustenance of the people. Though, I couldn’t recall his exact phrasing now; perhaps Old Ma meant religious faith was the spiritual anchor. But to me, the two aren't that different. In an era lacking reliable faith, holding money as a spiritual focus isn't necessarily a bad thing—it's certainly more tangible than those empty, lofty values.

I was just about to tell them that our primary goal for this sea voyage was to recover the national treasure, the Qin Emperor's Bone-Reflecting Mirror, with pearl diving in the sea eye being a secondary objective; ideally, we could manage both public and private interests. But the words died on my lips as a sharp, agonizing pain, like a knife twisting in my gut, suddenly seized me. I abandoned all thought of speaking, swiftly grabbed a newspaper from the table, and bolted for the restroom with the speed of charging a machine-gun nest. I wasn't the only one; Uncle Ming and the other two also felt unbearable stomach cramps and scrambled for the toilets to relieve themselves.

Big Gold Tooth had put some not-so-fresh chives into the noodle soup he cooked. These few meager chives nearly cost us our lives. All four of us were so dehydrated from diarrhea that we had to go to the clinic for IV drips that very night. Fatty and I were used to roughing it and eating all sorts of questionable things while traveling, yet we'd never suffered such terrible stomach issues. We had weathered typhoons and great waves, only to nearly be undone by a bowl of noodle soup.

Even late at night, the emergency room of the local clinic was still busy with patients. The nurse assigned the four of us to a ward at the end of the corridor for our IV drips. Fatty lay weakly on the cot, still complaining, "They say the four great bastions are the police station, the big pharmacy, the funeral parlor, and the tax bureau; entering any of those places guarantees at least three years of bad luck. Fatty has never been to a hospital in his life, so I guess I've officially broken that streak. It’s all Gold Tooth’s fault. Was it not enough to put two eggs in that lousy noodle soup? He insisted on adding those rotten chives from Old Hu’s family. Who knows when he bought that bunch—he probably forgot himself. So he shares the blame. But ultimately, it’s Uncle Ming’s fault. Uncle Ming, why did you come to our place in the middle of the night without eating first? Were you intentionally freeloading? I’ve noticed this is your usual style. Remember on the way to Kunlun, you just kept fanning the flames. I think you only wish for the world to descend into chaos, perhaps even aiming to blow up Mount Lu and stop the Earth from turning."

Because Uncle Ming had consumed the most noodle soup, his condition was the worst; he was so weak from diarrhea he was barely breathing. However, he and Fatty still had unresolved friction between them, and feeling that they needed him for the sea voyage, he refused to back down verbally: "I’m warning you, Fatty boy, I’m in a terrible mood right now. Don't try to test your uncle’s temper! Ouch... Your uncle is about to kick the bucket because of that scrawny bastard Gold Tooth’s soup! Damn your mother, is this noodle soup or laxative?"

As he spoke, Uncle Ming’s stomach cramped again. He tried to get a nurse to take him to the restroom, but the clinic nurses were both extremely busy and rude, unwilling to assist with tasks outside their immediate duties. Whichever nurse Uncle Ming flagged down just rolled their eyes at him, ignoring their fellow Hong Kong compatriot. Just then, my IV finished, so I had to help him stumble to the hospital restroom.

After helping him into the restroom and securing his IV drip, I walked out into the corridor to find him some toilet paper. That’s when I saw Shirley Yang rushing toward the clinic, having heard the news from Aunt Liu down the street. She was inquiring anxiously at the registration desk. I called her over, briefly explained what happened—no big deal, just food poisoning, probably unwashed pesticides on the chives, and she shouldn’t worry as he’d be fine after medication. We then moved to a quiet spot in the corridor, where I began to tell her about salvaging the sunken ship at the sea eye.

Shirley Yang remarked, "You were right not to agree right away. Professor Chen is too impatient. Even if other salvage teams are targeting that ship, they probably can’t finalize a plan anytime soon. I know a bit about the Coral Spiral; it's long been called the Bermuda of the South China Sea, a frequent accident site for all kinds of maritime disasters. Clear-air turbulence often occurs overhead, making it hard for planes to fly near, and ships’ electronic equipment suffers some kind of mysterious interference, causing malfunctions. Furthermore, there are too many underwater reefs; without intimate knowledge of the seabed terrain, it’s impossible to reach the depths of the Coral Spiral. Let’s figure things out slowly after we get back to the States. After all, this national treasure, the Qin Emperor's Bone-Reflecting Mirror, is of paramount importance, and I can’t abandon Professor Chen in his hour of need."

I told Shirley Yang, "I ran into Uncle Ming today. When he was young, he sailed near the Coral Spiral harvesting Night-Luminous Pearls, so he knows the general topography. I estimate that while it’s a slim chance, using Feng Shui secrets to observe the stars above and the earth veins below to find a path into the Coral Spiral is not entirely impossible. The Sixteen-Character Yin-Yang Feng Shui Secret Manual has detailed discussions of the Southern Dragon lineage. Although we are thousands of miles away and don't know if the sea eye situation aligns with the Southern Dragon formation, we won’t know until we see it firsthand at sea. Right now, I feel we have at least a thirty to forty percent chance."

Regarding diving to salvage the sunken ship and the pearl at the sea eye, although we have sufficient funds, without long-term preparation and deployment, we simply cannot compare to professional salvage companies. Just mastering some of the necessary diving equipment would take us quite a while to learn. However, I believe that if we employ the unique sea-exploring techniques passed down by the Moving Mountain Daoists, we can achieve twice the result with half the effort.

However, the so-called "Moving Mountains and Filling Seas" techniques do not have a canonized ancient text like the Sixteen-Character Yin-Yang Feng Shui Secret Manual. There are only relevant records of previously used methods in the diary and memoir left by the Moving Mountain Daoist, "Partridge Whistle," detailing several expeditions to seek miraculous elixirs. These accounts are interspersed with many secret techniques never before shared by the Moving Mountain Daoists. The sheer strangeness of these Moving Mountain and Filling Seas techniques is astonishing; they represent the accumulated wisdom of generations of Moving Mountain Daoists over thousands of years. If properly utilized, they truly allow one to comprehend all things in heaven and earth and master their subtle transformations.

Shirley Yang had previously compiled this section separately, but during our half-year of traveling thousands of miles, we never truly studied it. Having to use it suddenly now felt rushed, like hastily praying to Buddha when the crisis arrives.

Aside from the haste, we faced other disadvantages. For instance, the equipment we could acquire and use in a short time was utterly incomparable to that used by professional diving and salvage units backed by governmental or military resources—it was like a beggar challenging the Dragon King’s treasury.

However, given the unique nature of this operation, in that mysterious region of the Coral Spiral where high-tech equipment fails, this was precisely the time for the ancient secret arts handed down by our ancestors to shine. Western medicine treats the symptoms, while Chinese medicine treats the root cause; this is akin to them using atomic bombs while we throw hand grenades. The strength of the Grave Robbers and the Moving Mountain Daoists lies in possessing an absolute technological advantage derived from traditional Chinese culture.

Shirley Yang also comes from a family of explorers; her blood carries the genes of many adventurers. Although she often called me a meddler who only seeks chaos, in reality, she is not someone who can sit still. Once I spurred her on in the hospital, she became interested. Shirley Yang graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy. Although she eventually gave up a military career to become a regular photographer for National Geographic, she still possesses the typical demeanor of an American naval officer: excellent but not arrogant, never lacking in the spirit and courage for adventure.

UNA’s motto is: "Knowledge Forges the Trident." The Trident is the weapon of Poseidon, the sea god in Greek mythology, symbolizing the sea god’s power and dominion over the seas. Our moon-scooping operation this time relies primarily on the ancient secret arts of the "Grave Robbers" and the "Moving Mountain Daoists," perfectly fitting this maxim: Tomb-Raiding Secrets Forge the Trident.

But we still needed some basic equipment for the voyage, which Shirley Yang would procure using her overseas connections. We agreed on a plan: I would take Fatty and the others to the South Seas first to gather intelligence near the Coral Spiral and look for a suitable vessel. Shirley Yang would join us as soon as her preparations were complete, and the entire team would enter the Bermuda of the South China Sea.

No one imagined then that this major plan, which would influence the rest of our fates, would be so cleanly finalized right there in that inconspicuous clinic. We talked for a full hour. Only after we finished did I suddenly remember that Uncle Ming was still squatting in the restroom; we had completely forgotten him. I rushed back to find him, only to discover he was gone. It turned out a passing doctor had already taken him back to the ward. Upon seeing me in the room, he complained, "Hu Boy is even more detestable than that Fatty. Fatty is only foul-mouthed, but this Hu fellow uses underhanded tricks. Throwing an old man like your uncle alone in the restroom, saying you were going to get toilet paper, and then vanishing—you are truly beastly! It’s a blessing A Xiang didn't marry you."

I casually brushed it off, "Come on, Uncle Ming. We are people doing big business. Those who decide the fate of fortunes don't squabble over trivialities. You didn't fall in there and couldn't climb out yourself, so stop nitpicking. I did have something more important than fetching you tissue earlier, and I got delayed when I got distracted."

Exhausted by their stomachs, the others argued briefly and then lost the will to say more. After finishing their IVs, they went home to rest. The next afternoon, Professor Chen arrived to visit us. He had already heard from Shirley Yang that we agreed to find the Qin Emperor's Bone-Reflecting Mirror. He came specifically to instruct us: "The sea eye of the South China Sea is bottomless; I fear it is closely related to the bottomless Ghost Cave of the Jingjue Ancient Kingdom. Since you have decided to go to the Coral Spiral, there is one thing I must tell you beforehand. This information might sound sensational, but I just want you to be fully mentally prepared."