The massive boulder from Bottle Hill, having crashed into the Yi people's ancestral cavern, was lodged immovably midway within the space. The rock was already shattered by the impact, and the ancient tomb within was unrecognizable. The exposed entrance to the burial passage, situated at the summit of the collapsed rock mass, pointed directly toward the night sky like the aperture of a well shaft.

Zhegushao was a once-in-a-century prodigy of the Banshan (Mountain Moving) lineage. Since starting his career, he had frequented ruined graves and desolate foundations for over a decade; he had plundered no fewer than eight hundred, if not a thousand, ancient tombs. Yet, a tomb passage and chamber that were inverted and reversed like this was an absolute first in his lifetime experience.

Furthermore, because the tomb chamber had fallen from a great height, its internal architecture was completely ruined. The original tomb door and passage were entirely blocked by rubble, whereas several large holes had been smashed through the thick tomb walls. Since past experience offered no guidance here, he couldn't help but exercise twelve-tenths caution, lighting his horse lantern and leaping first into the breached passage.

Zhegushao felt the stones beneath his feet shift, and the four walls vibrated faintly. He knew that this enormous boulder was suspended in the cavern, unsupported below. If the surrounding trees and rocks could not bear its weight, it would continue to plummet. Now, to traverse the tomb chamber and enter the Yi ancestral cavern was akin to having a thousand sharp swords hanging overhead, ready to strike at any moment.

But Zhegushao was known for his bold skill, unwilling to dwell on such dangers. He raised his hand to pull down Hong Guniang, who followed close behind, quietly cautioning her, "The great rock of Bottle Hill is suspended in mid-air; even the wind can move it. When moving about in this chamber, you must exercise utmost care."

Hong Guniang nodded her assent. The two trod softly, holding their breath, carefully clinging to the shattered, collapsed walls of the passage, as if crossing a frozen abyss or a perilous gorge. During the slow descent, they dared not exert any force; even so, loose stones and rubble clattered down around them.

Most of the traps and mechanisms within the tomb had been destroyed by the impact, leaving none capable of firing. The pair navigated several leaning stone beams and slipped down through the gaps between the rubble, their feet finally landing on what was once the tomb chamber's main doorway.

Inside the belly of Bottle Hill, there were sequentially built structures: city gates, barbican, corridors, the Dan Palace, and the rear hall, built in a stepped fashion. Below the boundless hall of the Dan Palace was the secret chamber used for refining elixirs and storing medicinal herbs. The mass of plunderers from Banshan and Xieling (Mountain Leaning) first beheld the full scope of the Dan Palace, finding its grandeur magnificent, no different from an imperial inner court of antiquity. They all assumed the general's true burial chamber must be hidden among layers of halls and pavilions, overlooking the separate, independent hall tucked away at the mountain's peak.

When Zhegushao set foot upon the threshold of the peak hall, he found the scene utterly bizarre. All reference points were skewed and overturned; the original floor and ceiling were now positioned around him, front to back, as if heaven and earth had swapped places. His own sense of balance was unsettled by this illusion.

He quickly embraced a large, fallen stone stele just outside the hall door, steadying his mind until he gradually acclimated to the strange environment. Under his touch, the stone was covered in raised and recessed characters. Under the horse lantern's glow, Zhegushao and Hong Guniang glanced at the inscription; the phrasing seemed archaic, clearly detailing ancient imperial prayers to heaven and earth for the elixir of immortality. They surmised that this great hall, mistaken for a tomb chamber at the peak, must have once been a secret sanctuary for alchemists seeking to complete the Golden Elixir. However, they presumed the elixirs never reached perfection in the Dan Palace, as they had never heard of any ancient emperor living past a hundred years by consuming such potions.

Looking further, the main door had been blasted away. The supporting beams and rafters lay in a catastrophic heap, sealing the entrance. But half of the ceiling was torn open, revealing a black, seemingly bottomless void within. From below, they could faintly hear the miserable cries of an ape. It seemed the old ape was trapped below and unable to escape, crying out for its kin to rescue it. Yet, the monkey troops in the mountains had been so terrified by Zhegushao that they had fled deep into the dense forest, not daring to return.

Zhegushao reasoned that since the old ape hadn't died, the ancestral cavern and tomb must be free of miasmic toxins, making descent safe. Eager to rescue the guide, they ignored the danger that the pavilion might collapse and bury them alive, immediately descending through the large hole in the roof, grasping at beams and pillars.

The tomb chamber was divided into a front and rear section; the front hall was relatively small, but the rear hall was exceptionally vast. The back wall of the rear hall had shattered, which was where the purple-gold outer coffin had been flung out. Most of the funerary objects buried within the hall had been smashed to pieces—jade tiles mixed with shards of porcelain. Only the side walls remained relatively intact; they were vibrant with ancient, rich murals. Illuminated by the dim, yellow light of the horse lantern, the figures depicted seemed startlingly alive, mostly portraying scenes of military campaigns, with warriors clad in armor and helmets.

Zhegushao and Hong Guniang paid little mind to these murals. No matter how majestically the general lived, he eventually met death: "Your kind, body and life extinguished, yet the rivers and mountains flow eternally on." Those who plundered tombs rarely cared for the life stories of the deceased. But as the lamplight swept across the wall, Zhegushao suddenly spotted a bead in the mural that looked strikingly like a human eye, causing a surge of blood to rush through him.

The Banshan Daoists dug into ancient tombs primarily to seek a specific pearl. This pearl had an extraordinary origin—whether it was the solidified inner core of an ancient creature or something born from the creative force of heaven and earth—its shape and color were indistinguishable from a human eye. Legend claimed it was hidden within the mouth of a corpse in some world tomb, called the Muchen Pearl, also known as the Phoenix Gall.

A thousand years pass easily, but an ancient curse is hard to dispel. Generations of Banshan Daoists had been excavating tombs, yet they had lost countless lives searching for it, never even catching a glimpse of the pearl's likeness. Instead, their lineage dwindled, perhaps facing extinction within a century. Zhegushao had sworn a great oath to find this object, even if it meant his body being ground to dust. To find a clue to it here, in this inverted, reversed tomb, left him utterly shaken.

To get a closer look, Zhegushao secured his stance by hooking his legs over a massive, coiling pillar. Light as a swallow, he hung suspended against the pillar, raising his horse lantern to study the ancient murals. It turned out the murals recorded the life story of the ancient corpse within the purple-gold outer coffin. His name could not be ascertained from the pictures; one could only surmise this man originated from the Western Regions and had earned many military merits. After the Mongols conquered the Western Xia, he learned of a rare treasure hidden in the Western Xia royal palace and was ordered to excavate the Western Xia royal mausoleum to find the Muchen Pearl. He had plundered numerous tombs but found nothing.

Later, he finally learned that the Phoenix Gall was hidden within the Tongtian Great Buddha Temple in Black Water City, Western Xia. However, the ancient ruins of Black Water City were long buried by yellow sands; the vast expanse of sand and grass offered no markers, making it difficult to locate the temple near the city. Compounded by the army's southward campaign to quell the Dongyi rebellion, the matter was ultimately left unresolved.

The murals on the subsequent sections of the wall had peeled and fragmented, becoming unrecognizable. Blood seemed ready to pour from Zhegushao's eyes; he desperately wished he had wings so he could immediately fly to Black Water City and dig up the ancient monastery buried in the desert. He thought perhaps the ancestors of the Zaghlama—who worshipped the one omniscient, omnipotent true God—had manifested their power. After a thousand years of intermittent clues, a clear path finally lay before his eyes.

He sighed, mourning that his junior apprentice brothers and sisters died without ever knowing this news. He recalled his time in Bottle Hill, collaborating with Chen Xiazi, the leader of the Xieling faction, in tomb raiding—sharing life and death moments, entering and exiting the gates of hell countless times. Everything he did was on the edge of a blade, nearly costing him his life. But to gain this vital lead within an ancient tomb made all those dangers and hardships worthwhile.

A tempest of emotions surged through Zhegushao's mind—moments of relief, bursts of ecstasy, pangs of sorrow, and sudden despondency. He completely forgot where he was, only worrying whether the tale of the Western Xia Black Water City was true.

As Hong Guniang was about to cross the chamber to descend to the bottom of the cavern, she saw Zhegushao suspended mid-air, utterly lost, staring motionlessly at the side wall. Startled, she rushed to shake his arm.

With a gentle nudge from her, Zhegushao snapped back to reality. Though his heart was still turbulent, he had already made up his mind: the current tomb raiding affair at Bottle Hill must be concluded first, fulfilling his obligation of brotherhood to the allied Xieling plunderers. After that, he would venture alone into the desert, refusing to rest until he had excavated the Tongtian Great Buddha Temple in Black Water City.

Hong Guniang asked curiously, "Why the grimace and murderous look you just had while staring at the mural?"

Zhegushao knew that if Hong Guniang knew the truth, she would certainly disregard personal safety and insist on accompanying him to Black Water City. Accustomed to working alone, he knew few people alive could match his skill and courage. Though others might wish to help, they would only become a burden. Thus, he decided to conceal the matter from her, merely saying, "I just barely survived death in the Dan Well. I swallowed the inner core of the Six-Winged Centipede in a rather unclean manner. My head hurts and I feel dizzy; I suppose the medicinal power hasn't fully dissipated, but it's fine now. The guide Miaozi's fate is unknown; we must hurry to find him."

Hong Guniang replied, "That is right. Although the guide Miaozi seemed timid, he was quite shrewd and clever; he doesn't strike me as someone destined for a sudden, violent death. He might still be saved." As she spoke, she darted ahead, moving through the breach in the rear wall of the chamber, deftly climbing toward the bottom of the cavern.

Seeing her impetuous nature, Zhegushao feared she might run into trouble ahead and quickly followed her descent. Beneath the lowest level of the tomb wall lay a crisscross network of tree roots and ancient timber, piled high with massive logs rarely seen even in the primeval forest. These timbers lay both horizontally and vertically, and in every section were numerous natural hollows, about the size of a vegetable basket in diameter and several feet deep—just large enough to fit a corpse.

To an expert plunderer like Zhegushao, this ancient Yi ancestral cavern was truly a "Casket Grave"—one tomb, multiple bodies. There were no coffins, only burial hollows. Each corpse was relatively isolated, the hollows packed densely together, resembling the cabinets of cubbyholes in a traditional Chinese medicine shop.

Since the ancient Yi people lived in caves, they were also called Cave Dwellers. Although their society had a strict hierarchy—a Cave Lord above and Cave Slaves below—their living conditions were primitive and rudimentary. Their collective burial method largely involved centralized interment in "Casket Graves." The bodies were interred wearing only the ornaments they used in life; there were no gold or jade objects, adhering to a custom of never burying the dead lavishly. The cliff caves along the Yangtze River were, in fact, similar in this regard.

It was only later, when imperial officials established the Tusi (local chieftain) system, that the custom of using coffins and elaborate burials gradually appeared. Hence the saying among tomb robbers: "Vertical burial pits, Casket Graves—Banshan and Xieling steer clear." Because Casket Graves were the resting places of the Dongyi people, there was nothing the Banshan or Xieling factions sought there, and even if they found such a site, they would not disturb it.

Zhegushao and Hong Guniang reached the cavern floor. They swept their lanterns and guns around; their eyes met a honeycomb of tomb hollows. Within them lay skeletal remains, draped in cobwebs and fungi, exuding a foul stench that threatened to cause nausea. The fallen trees and earth piled up like a mountain, obscuring where the purple-gold outer coffin and Miaozi had landed. The incessant wailing of the ape had also ceased.

Just as Zhegushao was about to call out the guide's name, they suddenly heard a low moan from a corner of the cavern, the sound incredibly faint. Zhegushao pointed his lamp toward that corner, vaguely seeing a human silhouette, but judging by the shape and the voice, it was not the guide Miaozi.

Hong Guniang, feeling uneasy, gripped three throwing knives in her hand and bravely called out, "Who is over there?" However, the figure in the corner was hunched over, leaning against the wall, trembling all over, yet refusing to answer.

Zhegushao, whose courage was exceptional, refused to be intimidated. He walked a few steps forward with his gun, raised his lamp, and let out a sharp intake of breath. He saw a thin, withered old man squatting before a row of burial hollows, his face full of astonishment as he looked at the approaching Zhegushao and Hong Guniang. The elder had entirely white hair, sunken cheeks, and sharp, darting eyes, much like an old ape. Judging by his demeanor, he hardly looked human at all.