Upon seeing this temple in the sea, it brought to mind the Cave of Tortoise Slumber I encountered in Inner Mongolia over a decade ago, throwing my mind into a disquieting tumult. Fatty and I began speaking idly, uttering nonsense, until Shirley Yang suddenly mentioned the term "Hentian," which she speculated might be related to the sun-hating vampire zombies of Western lore.

I looked up at the bronze heads suspended from the stone pillars, unsure of what Shirley Yang meant. I didn't know much about vampires, but I recognized such legends as the Liaozhai Zhiyi of Western religion; how could actual blood-sucking zombies exist in this world? Gu Cai bore the mark of the Guixu on his back, clearly a descendant of the Hentian people, and he had been baked under the sun countless times aboard the ship without showing any ill effects.

Shirley Yang explained, "I was just using an illustrative example. Sun-hating vampires view the sun as their mortal enemy; if they exist in the West, the East might have its own. The Hentian people were likely a tribe hostile to the celestial sun. Look at the complete bronze giants—their heads wear fishbone crowns; the decapitated bronze figures all wear fire-crow crowns. Every flourishing ancient civilization in the world originated near vast river systems: the Yellow River, the Ganges, the Euphrates, the Amazon—all birthed great river civilizations at their peak. The ancestors of the Hentian people were a branch of the Yellow River civilization in Huaxia. Back in the Yin-Shang period and even earlier, people revered the fish as the moon and the fire crow as the sun. The bronze figures wearing fire-crow headpieces are very likely personifications of the celestial sun and day, whom the Hentian people considered their sworn enemies."

The era before the Yin-Shang was the primordial, nebulous age of myth. Ever since Fatty and I started our trade as Grave Robbers in Panjiayuan, I’ve handled many antiquities and learned a great deal about historical anecdotes and legends. But in this domain, I simply couldn't match Shirley Yang’s inherited knowledge, and I couldn't immediately grasp why one would hate the sun. In our common understanding, rain nourishes the seedlings, and the sun sustains all growth.

Shirley Yang adjusted the searchlight, slowly sweeping the beam across the hall. Our gazes followed, and we saw many remnants of "arrow stones" half-submerged in the water. These were fossils of ancient marine creatures, shaped like cuttlefish, with sheaths resembling arrowheads. These fossils could be fashioned into weapons; processed arrow stones are occasionally found inland in China. On the ceiling, there was a circular stone disk, upon which a damaged bronze crow was cast, pierced by these arrow stones.

The great hall had lain beneath the sea for too long, and much of it was eroded and decayed. However, judging by the postures maintained by the bronze giants adorned with fishbone ornaments, they seemed to have once stood as warriors drawing bows and nocking arrows. The bronze heads hanging from the pillars were their trophies. The stone disk bearing the fire-crow mark likely represented the sun, destined to be pierced by arrows.

Only after we had taken in the scene did Shirley Yang speak, "The great hall in Guixu Mountain records the legends of the Hentian wars. At first, I didn't grasp their meaning, but upon seeing the fire-crow and sun symbols, it became instantly clear: the Hentian people were a tribe from the ancient Yellow River civilization's legend of shooting down the suns."

Uncle Ming, Fatty, and I exchanged bewildered glances. "Shooting the sun? Hou Yi shooting the sun?" Legend held that ten suns once blazed in the sky, scorching the earth until it cracked and nothing could grow. The divine archer Hou Yi shot down nine of them with his bow and arrows, only later for his wife Chang'e to steal his elixir of immortality and flee to the moon palace. Shooting the sun, flying to the moon, the elixir of endless life—these are all myths that even a three-year-old knows are false. Yet, coming from Shirley Yang’s mouth, none of us dared to easily refute her, lest we expose our ignorance. In this vast world, wonders abound; perhaps there truly were ten suns in the sky once, who knows?

Seeing our stunned faces, Shirley Yang realized we had misunderstood. She clarified, "Where did your minds go? The heavens have only one sun, and a kingdom has only one ruler. There is only one sun in the sky, and no two kings on earth. I merely suggest that the Hentian people were a tribe that worshipped the totem of sun-shooting. The so-called sun might have been the deity or totem of an adversarial force."

Some scholars now posit a striking similarity between the Mayan civilization of South America and the Shang-Zhou civilization, suggesting the Maya were descendants of the Chinese, given the astonishing parallels in their totemic imagery, clothing, and architecture. However, the theory that the Maya were established by people crossing the sea from Yin has not yet been universally accepted. The Maya were a people who worshipped a solar deity, and sun-shooting is a legend originating from warfare in the Yellow River basin—a narrative that aligns perfectly with the origin story of the Hentian Kingdom.

In the turbulent waters of the Coral Spiral Sea, this ancient kingdom, which venerated giant arrows and stones and had reached the zenith of bronze smelting technology, eventually succumbed to disaster. Over-mining the Dragon Fire ore veins and bedrock caused massive landslides and tsunamis, submerging all their relics beneath the seabed. Their descendants degenerated into the Dan people living scattered upon the waves. The cavern beneath the Sea Eye, shaped like a whale’s belly, must have been an enormous mine. The collapsed stone pillars and platforms were perhaps facilities built long ago for extracting Dragon Fire, now drowned by the waters of Guixu. The ravaged South Dragon Sea Eye is filled with chaotic, swirling mists, and the ocean level ebbs and flows unpredictably. Compared to the meticulously laid traps and mechanisms within an ancient tomb, this predicament forged by nature itself is far more elusive, offering no clear path to escape.

Realizing this, I felt helpless. Relying on just two lifeboats, we could barely stay afloat in the surging waters of Guixu, let alone venture out through the crashing waves to return to Coral Temple Island, lacking water and food. Hearing the endless roar of the surf outside, venturing out by boat was momentarily impossible. I remembered that Ruan Hei’s corpse was on Uncle Ming’s boat, so I decided to fulfill his dying wish by finding a place to bury him first.

Duoling still wanted to take her master’s body back to Coral Temple Island for burial. I told her that wouldn't do. The 'Youth-Retaining Pill' that the deceased held in his mouth did indeed possess the miraculous quality of preventing decay, but only in auspicious, fertile earth. Feng Shui conditions vary in quality; the vital energy is strongest along the dragon veins, which is what preserves the body. Regarding geomantic energy, where in all the world could compare to Guixu at the end of the South Dragon line? The earth energies flowing from Mount Emei down the river to the sea converge here. Burying your Dan-people master here would be the best choice; otherwise, despite the pill in his mouth and the fact that his orifices weren't plugged, in this heat, his body would rot and stink within three days at sea.

I explained the situation to Duoling and Gu Cai. Looking around, the stone hall was vast and deep. Having lost the 'Kuixing Plate' and the 'Sitian Fish,' trapped in the Sun-Shooting Bronze Hall, we couldn't immediately discern our bearings. After circling the surface of the water a couple of times, we spotted a small doorway on the stone wall, half-submerged, with a slope leading upward, suggesting an adjoining small chamber. So, using our wooden paddles to propel us, we steered the boat directly toward it.

Suddenly, several large fish that had swum into the stone hall to escape the surge leaped out of the water, splashing violently. Some jumped right beside our rubber dinghy, drenching everyone aboard. In the darkness, we couldn't tell what kind of fish they were, but fearing the large fish might overturn the small boat, everyone felt perilously exposed on the life rafts.

In the black market of Coral Temple Island, weaponry was readily available, mostly munitions left over from the Pacific War. We had purchased a batch for self-defense before boarding the ship. At that moment, Fatty grabbed an American M1 Carbine and sprayed several bursts toward the churning water where the large fish were jumping. Under the glare of the searchlight, streaks of blood floated to the surface. Before the dead fish could turn belly-up, we saw several shark fins break the water, approaching rapidly to tear at the carcasses below.

When everyone saw that there were sharks in this stone hall too, their faces paled. They all urged us to leave the water quickly, paddling frantically until we finally entered the low stone doorway and passed through a chamber flooded with water. Suddenly, the terrain opened up before us. Looking up, we could see a blood-red vault of the sky; the mountain structures were built to conform to the terrain. This was an atrium within the mountain belly, with a hill piled in the center. Only upon drawing closer did we realize that the mounds rising from the water in the stone hall were entirely composed of piled clam shells and snail casings. These mounds were more than half submerged in seawater. In the wall surfaces, uneven from the mountainous piles of shells, were numerous lamps made from fish-skin lanterns.

We dragged the rubber dinghy onto the shell mound and examined the waterline marks on the surrounding walls to gauge the extent of the rise and fall of the Guixu waters. The time they were completely submerged was short; the water line and the chiseled murals on the walls were clearly discernible. Looking at the variegated erosion on the walls, we saw scenes of ancient people butchering clams for pearls and battling giant sea creatures. It turned out the Dan people’s skills originated here; the Hentian people should be considered the founding fathers of pearl diving in the South Sea.

I told the group that the surrounding mountains and ruins blocked the surging seawater, so there was no fear of being buried alive by a collapse—there was no safer place. We would rest here for a few hours. Then, Gu Cai and I would lift Ruan Hei’s body from the dinghy. I said to Gu Cai and Duoling, "Your master was an unfortunate Dan man. He labored his entire life, and his only hope was that his corpse wouldn't be eaten by fish after death, that he could be buried peacefully with the Youth-Retaining Pill in his mouth. How about we make him a clam shell coffin and bury him here in this Green Snail Mound?"

Duoling and Gu Cai both nodded mournfully. Gu Cai said to me, "Boss Hu, I trust you. When Elder Sister and Master fell into the sea, you saved them without blinking; I’ve never seen anyone like you."

Hearing him mention my rescue of Ruan Hei and Duoling during the sea collapse, I realized his fierce efforts helping us salvage the Qin Emperor’s Bone-Revealing Mirror from the wreck were a way of repaying a debt of gratitude. My thoughts were currently scattered, and I didn't wish to claim credit for that act. I immediately told him and Duoling to prepare Ruan Hei’s remains and find a suitable shell for burial.

Duoling led Gu Cai in unwrapping the white cloth covering Ruan Hei, cleaning the residual blood from his face with clear water, and then re-wrapping the body according to their customs. Most people in the South Seas are Buddhist, and the two clasped their hands, praying for the departed soul’s swift attainment of Buddhahood. Thinking about how their master, Ruan Hei, who had been their lifelong companion and treated them like a biological father, was now dead, and they would never see him again in the years to come—the most painful thing in the world is parting in life and death—they couldn't help but weep again, crying over the body for a long time. Under the blood-red vault of the sky, Duoling began to sing a song Ruan Hei often hummed aboard the ship. The melody was mournful and desolate, making even bystanders feel the urge to weep.

As Shirley Yang and I were digging among the shells, we heard the song of boundless sorrow. Though we couldn't understand the lyrics, we felt a vague sense of loss and melancholy arise in our hearts, and we stopped what we were doing to listen intently. Only Uncle Ming understood the song's meaning. He sighed and told us softly, "The Dan boys are singing an old tune of the shell divers—'My God, save this suffering man; he fears not the sweat and blood, only the fear of not returning home...'"