The cratered mountains rolled and dipped around a vast central plaza. Under the surging sea mist, the waters of the Guixu rose violently, swallowing the surrounding stone temple ruins and cascading like waterfalls through the mountain's caves and crevasses. Our small craft was carried by the current into the open atrium, finding ourselves encircled by sheer walls of falling water, the sea surging inward from all directions into the basin below the mountain.

Amidst the chaos of booming tidal percussion, our two inflatable rafts became like dead leaves caught in an autumn gale. Tossed by a surge, we spun and landed in the pool surrounded by the mountain slopes. We frantically rowed toward the center of the water, desperate to avoid being capsized by the circular waterfalls, using the momentary cover of the spray to scan the area before and behind us.

The terrain here resembled a coliseum from ancient Rome—a naturally formed circular plaza at the bottom of the basin, dotted with a dozen whirlpools that sucked the seawater down into the bottomless abyss beneath the ancient city. A colossal black timber, impossibly tall, was wedged diagonally within this space, reaching a height equivalent to ten stories. Its trunk was so massive it could house a mansion; dozens, perhaps hundreds of people could not encircle it, standing like a dark, sky-piercing giant, slanted in the center of the ringed ruins.

The bark was old and scaled, neither pine nor cypress, nor the fossilized remains of ordinary ancient wood, but Yin Chen Mu ①—ancient wood from forests submerged for ten millennia, preserved by the depths. Its lower end plunged into the water, its full depth unknown, while the upper end pointed obliquely toward the sky. Near the tip, layered clusters of cloud-like projectile stones were embedded, forming a canopy that resembled an umbrella of swirling clouds. The trunk was etched with markings resembling deep green insects and fish, inlaid in bronze. Though we hadn't formally studied oracle bone script, we had seen enough of it on the Long Gu Tianshu to recognize a few dozen characters. Most of these insect-fish traces were pictographs. Shirley Yang had done her homework beforehand; glancing at the colossal wood, she immediately recognized two ancient insect-fish characters. Although they looked like fish bones and insect legs, they weren't easily decipherable pictograms; she guessed one was the character for "wood," but the second remained a mystery.

The interior of the circular mountain was like a gargantuan well leading to the Guixu, a depth that the incoming seawater could never fill. Scattered around were thousands of bronze figures, half-submerged in the water, all significantly taller than ordinary men. The colossal statues were cast in bronze, their expressions ancient and solemn. They wore no fish-bone crowns on their heads; rather, they appeared like slaves. In the turbulent currents, groups of ten bronze slaves encircled one another, operating winches with their hands. Countless bronze chains were tightly secured to the great timber. The backwash rushing into the abyss created powerful vortices. The churning currents moved the bronze slaves and chains, causing the bronze to clash and grind with incessant clanging. Yet, the tall bronze slaves thrashed uselessly in the water, unable to turn the winches even a fraction of an inch.

We worked together desperately to steer our small boat away from the whirlpools, temporarily securing the dinghy by throwing rope loops around the nearest bronze slaves, leaving us drenched in the spray. The concave terrain of the mountain did not carry sound well; near the great wood, we could no longer feel the thunderous roar of the waves, but the echoes reverberated violently within the whale-belly-shaped caves, causing a dull ache in our eardrums.

Watching the walls of seawater surge around us, the sheer force of the tide threatened to overwhelm our lifeboat. In this situation, despair, as absolute as the feeling of the end of the world, settled upon us. We looked up in every direction, like fish in the deep sea gazing at the sky. Beyond the terror that had turned our hearts to ash, there was an overwhelming sense of helplessness and confusion. We had no idea where we were. It seemed the ruins in the Guixu were not ancient tombs or cities; in this abyss where Dragon Fire was being harvested, every corner held inexplicable mysteries.

Seeing the rubber raft stabilize slightly, Fatty stood up and touched the towering black wood in the water, marveling, "Isn't this the very same stabilizer as in the Dragon King’s Crystal Palace? We’ve surely stumbled into the Dragon Palace this time, surrounded by nothing but these 'Green-Headed Ancestors.' Too bad we don’t have a ship big enough to haul them back. Damn it, is this thing trying to make Fatty anxious?"

I said, "Fatty, look closer. The divine needle is iron; this ancient wood is neither metal, nor iron, nor stone—it's genuine, prime timber, found only in ancient forests millions or hundreds of millions of years old. When I was an engineer digging mountains in Kunlun, I saw fossils of these hundred-meter giants. I heard that only in the profoundly yin-charged deep sea can the original wood form be preserved. Look at these bronze slaves desperately turning it—they aren't trying to anchor it; they're almost certainly churning the sea, muddling the water to capture the great, ship-swallowing fish."

Shirley Yang mentioned that the ancients believed there were three kinds of divine wood in the primordial world. Besides the Kunlun Divine Wood, which could continue to grow without photosynthesis after being broken, there were Fusang and Jian Mu. Fusang was the great tree where the sun rested after setting. Since the Hentian Clan viewed the sun as an enemy, this ancient wood couldn't be Fusang; it must be the legendary Jian Mu, which was said to connect the seabed to the Moon Palace.

Uncle Ming and Gu Cai’s raft was moored not far from us. Hearing Shirley Yang suggest this was the Jian Mu from the sea, Uncle Ming quickly exclaimed, "All these bronze figurines and slaves must be for human sacrifice! This must indeed be a tomb of the Hentian Clan. Since Jian Mu is a divine wood, what lies beneath it must be an ancient zombie that achieved sentience. We don't even have the chance to dive to find a way out this time."

Shirley Yang shook her head. "Earlier I guessed this was an ancient tomb, but now I think I might be wrong. In the era when they refined cauldrons with Dragon Fire, human sacrifice was still common, and the practice of using effigies hadn't begun. Since there are bronze figures, it’s probably not an ancient tomb. Furthermore, the tip of the Jian Mu is embedded with projectile stones, and it’s surrounded by thousands of bronze slaves pushing it. This thing might be a totem for a weapon designed to shoot the sun."

I thought that while the Jian Mu was a rare divine wood found in the deep sea, the idea of it piercing the sun was clearly a fool's dream. The bronze figures pulling the chains were cast using Dragon Fire; they hadn't rusted completely after thousands of years underwater, their bronze nature remaining strong. But what was the purpose of casting so many bronze figures? Did they truly expect them to come alive and push the Jian Mu to shoot the sun? It seemed utterly meaningless; I truly couldn't fathom the function of these ruins.

Shirley Yang said we shouldn't judge ancient matters by modern standards. To us, this sun-shooting totem might be worthless, a mere product of ancient slaves, tragic as ants, exhausting the nation's strength to forge some rubbish. But to the ancients, it was the meaning of their lives, their faith, the anchor of their spiritual world.

At her words, I felt a shift in perspective. These things, perhaps "grand and empty," could be nothing, or they could be "everything." As I pondered what move to make next, the ground suddenly began to shake violently. The seawater thrashed with unprecedented intensity. The bases of the bronze giants around the Jian Mu seemed rooted; no matter how the sea surged, they only swayed slightly. The air was suddenly filled with the dense, sharp screech of bronze armor scraping against bronze. Above us, the sea mist, driven by yin fire, ignited, and instantly, a torrential rain of fire descended.

We took shelter beneath the dark forms of the Jian Mu and the bronze figures, evading the balls of yin fire splashing onto the water surface. Coupled with the surging, raging waves, the edges of our lifeboat were scorched by the yin fire, instantly releasing a pungent smell and trails of white smoke. We were helpless, left only to fate, living one moment at a time.

In the chilling glow of the yin fire, a massive shadow emerged from the sea, darting near the Jian Mu amidst the turbulence. Uncle Ming frantically shouted a warning about ravenous fish, and just as he spoke, a thick, black python-eel erupted from the water, its several-meter-long, jet-black body emitting a faint, ghostly blue luminescence. Blinded by instinct on the seabed, it panicked and slammed headlong into Uncle Ming’s raft, shoving it ten meters across the water surface. Uncle Ming and the others nearly fell in. Gu Cai tried to strike it with an oar but, having lost his center of gravity, couldn't even stand up.

We cried out in unison, watching the raft hurtle toward the bronze figures in the water. I quickly slapped Fatty’s shoulder, urging him to shoot and break the deadlock. Seeing the eel’s head emerge, Fatty raised his M1 Carbine and fired three quick shots. At this close range, he was certain of hitting the left eye. Where the shots landed, a mist of blood mixed with shredded flesh sprayed, showering Uncle Ming's face and head with eel blood. The wounded black eel dove headfirst into a nearby whirlpool and vanished, leaving only a murky trail of blood on the surface, which was quickly washed away by the churning currents.

Uncle Ming’s group barely avoided being sucked into the vortex. They quickly grabbed their oars and paddled back toward us. Then, the water churned again, and a behemoth, sixteen or seventeen meters long, surfaced. It had a blackish-blue head and tail, a glowing lure on its snout, a grayish body, eyes that bulged abnormally, and scales like diamond-shaped knives covering its entire body. It suddenly broke the surface, fanning its fins and whipping its tail, chasing a black eel that had fled from the deep sea. Losing its prey in the turbulence, it lunged straight toward our lifeboat.

Shirley Yang recognized it as a predatory fish known as the Deep-Sea Golden-Eyed Snapper. Both it and the giant black eel had been driven to the surface by hydrothermal vents below. Because life is sparse thousands of meters down, the snapper’s habit is to eat whatever it encounters. Out of its natural depth, it cannot survive long in shallower water, so even without provocation, it will attack everything on the surface in a frenzy due to physical distress. But right now, our lifeboat was taking cover under the Jian Mu from the fire rain and the surge, unable to move even half a meter. Fatty was in a blind spot, unable to fire in time. He could only grab the other M1 Carbine inside the raft, brace it on his shoulder, and fire at the surface. A burst of bullets hit the water, kicking up columns of spray, but the 0.3-inch rounds, while enough for self-defense, were inadequate to kill the giant snapper whose skin was as thick as a rhinoceros hide.

However, the barrage of gunfire did have some effect. The deep-sea demon snapper churned up a sheet of water and flashed past our lifeboat without looking back, slamming directly into the raft carrying Uncle Ming and Duoling. Uncle Ming stood frozen, his face the color of earth, watching the monstrous snapper about to overturn their raft and drag them under. Duoling and Gu Cai could only swing their oars wildly at the snapper’s gaping maw lined with fangs.

Seeing the danger, I knew if the raft capsized, Uncle Ming’s trio wouldn't be enough to satisfy the monstrous snapper's appetite. Since our two M1 Carbines couldn't kill the vicious fish in the water, I resorted to the method we used for fishing in the river back then. Fatty and I took out our cluster grenades, pulled the safety rings, and desperately hurled them between the Golden-Eyed Snapper and the raft.

There was a delay between the grenade leaving our hands and detonation, so they failed to hit the snapper’s head, but they did strike its blackish tail. The explosion kicked up a huge column of water, flipping the Golden-Eyed Snapper into the air, but the blast radius was too close to our lifeboat. The shockwave jolted our rubber boat, throwing Uncle Ming and Duoling into the water. Gu Cai didn't hesitate; clutching his short knife between his teeth, he jumped in to save them. Fortunately, these people were accustomed to battling storms at sea, living by the ocean, and they didn't panic when they fell into the water, quickly swimming back.

I saw shark shadows flashing nearby and began to sweat for them, quickly maneuvering our lifeboat over. Uncle Ming’s group’s raft was leaking and unusable. But our single lifeboat couldn't accommodate six people and all our gear. If everyone crammed into one boat, we would have to abandon the scuba equipment used for escaping—the diving gear, fresh water, and food—items that seemed cumbersome but were, in fact, the vital lifelines for the salvage team.

The situation was urgent. We had to prioritize the immediate danger: risking death by diving into the depths to find an exit. I instructed everyone to temporarily stand on the bronze giants and climb onto the submerged divine wood for footing. Moreover, the only exit from the Guixu was to dive out of the whale belly, navigate the undertow, and return to the trench near the coral forest. Therefore, the diving gear could not be discarded. Everyone strapped on their required scuba apparatus, taking only a small amount of diving explosives, firearms, grenades, food, and fresh water, abandoning the rest. We certainly weren’t willing to throw back the 'Green-Heads' we had collected; they were secured in diving carry-bags strapped to our bodies. I kept the Qin King Bone-Scrying Mirror tied to my chest; if we made it back alive, this ancient mirror was coming with us. The remaining 'Green-Heads,' one day's worth of water and food, and some first-aid supplies were packed into a sealed backpack weighted with lead blocks and equipped with an inflation bladder for unified transport.

Uncle Ming gave the two short swords—the ones used by the Hentian Clan to butcher clams and dragons—to me and Fatty. He said that if we were diving in the Guixu to find a way out, we should basically be prepared for a journey with no return. Who knew what dangers lurked in the depths? Having the water-parting swords inherited from the ancestors of the Tanka people for defense was at least more reliable than diving knives or spear guns. Fatty and I cursed Uncle Ming inwardly for planning to push us out as shields again.

But at this moment, there was no time to argue. I quickly told everyone that a massive tide seemed imminent; the Guixu could be completely flooded at any moment, and staying here to be burned by Dragon Fire was a dead end. Our chance to survive was by diving underwater; we had only one shot, no turning back. If our scuba oxygen ran out before we found an exit... the result didn't need to be said. In short, I reminded them of three points: First, act as a team, advance and retreat together; Second, do not waste time; Third, at the final moment, you must resist the psychological pressure, commit fully, go all in, and absolutely do not look back.

At this point, everyone understood that with the limited scuba oxygen we carried, the probability of escaping the Guixu without even confirming an exit was likely less than one in a thousand. But staying meant either being swamped by the waves, capsizing the raft, and feeding the sharks, or being burned alive by Dragon Fire and hot springs. The situation had deteriorated drastically, leaving us mere minutes to consider, much less act. Seeing that inaction meant certain death, I echoed Uncle Ming's sentiment: "You never know your luck unless you bet." Even a slim chance was still a chance. Rather than wait to die, why not risk everything now while we still had full energy? Everyone made their decision instantly.

Just then, the rain of fire suddenly ceased. The sharks near the surface were fighting over the snapper’s corpse. The water had risen to the level of the bronze slaves' heads. The water surface was densely packed with bronze heads, and the sound of the churning water around us was like giant bells being struck underwater. The atmosphere was indescribably oppressive, but I saw this as the moment to enter the water. I gestured to everyone, donned my goggles, fitted the breathing tube, and was about to lead the way down into the water along the Jian Mu when Gu Cai grabbed my arm.

I pushed my goggles up and asked, "What? Retreating at the last minute?" I saw that the Dragon Household member, Gu Cai, had an expression of utter shock and horror on his face. He addressed the group: "Can't go... I see... a white... a white sun!"

① Yin Chen Mu (Shaded Sinking Wood): Also known as ebony, this specifically refers to various precious ancient trees buried underground for thousands of years.