Professor Sun, by the campfire, sorted through the materials collected that day while intermittently reciting legends recorded on the stele. The stone pillars beneath the seated figure of the Black Sheep King, he explained, were left from ancient flood control efforts. The inscriptions were incredibly detailed: the patterns were “Light and Heavy Thunder Marks,” and the script was “Snail Cicada Ancient Seal Script.” Most people couldn't decipher these bizarre, snail-like characters that resembled heavenly script. But Professor Sun, having devoted decades and immeasurable effort to this field, possessed extraordinary mastery far beyond that of ordinary scholars. Reading seventy or eighty percent of it was no problem for him.

I secretly counted my blessings, realizing that without dragging Ninth Master Sun along to Qingxi, Irley Yang, Fatty, and I would have seen these ancient riddles as mere scribbles. Saying no more, I listened intently to the Professor’s account. It turned out that the hints for finding the entrance to the Ancient Earth Immortal Tomb were indeed connected not only to the secrets of Qingwu Feng Shui but also to the ancient legends within “Coffin Gorge.”

In earlier years, due to the unique topography of the Wushan Mountains, which did not benefit from the Yin-Yang Fish water diversion, this mountainous region suffered relentless rampages of floods and water disasters. Every year, countless people and livestock were swallowed by the torrents, becoming food for the river monsters.

Just as everyone was at a loss, a hermit from the mountains emerged. He was powerfully built, with a full, flowing beard, clad in a black robe, and claimed to be the “Great King of Wuling.” He possessed the art of moving mountains and could command ghost soldiers to dredge the river channels.

However, he stipulated two conditions. First, during the period of mountain-moving and river-dredging, the local authorities must offer sacrifices of meat and grain. At mealtimes, these offerings were piled at the mouth of a mountain cave where a large tripod stood. The villagers bringing the food would first strike the tripod three times and then quickly retreat from the mountain.

The second condition was a request for the Son of Heaven to bestow upon him official titles and honors to recognize his merit. At that time, burdened by the massive scale of the engineering, even with money, provisions, and manpower, they could not undertake the task of moving mountains and diverting rivers. The imperial court highly valued accomplished recluses, so they immediately agreed.

Thus, the King of Wuling performed rituals day and night, commanding Yin soldiers and generals to dredge the river. From then on, the mountains were perpetually shrouded in dim clouds, and the sound of quarrying and splitting stone roared like thunder. The grateful local people selected a woman named Li to marry the King of Wuling. Thereafter, the ritual offering of food to the Yin soldiers for river dredging was personally supervised by the Queen.

The water control project was arduous and lengthy. One day, a sudden torrential downpour struck. The King of Wuling’s command of the Yin soldiers in dredging the river proved difficult, and the wine and food sent over remained untouched for two consecutive days. The Queen grew worried and led people into the mountain.

Upon reaching the river-dredging site, everyone was astonished. In the gorge, a massive black boar was pushing against the mountain with its head in the water, followed by countless mountain ghosts and sprites hauling earth and stone. It turned out that the mountain-moving King of Wuling was a manifestation of the Black Sheep of the mountains. He had to reveal his true form to harness ghostly and divine power to open the river, which was why he never allowed anyone to enter the mountain to see him.

When his true form was exposed, the King of Wuling retreated into the mountains, refusing to continue dredging the river, ashamed to face his Queen again. The Queen knelt before the mountain, pleading fruitlessly. She eventually threw herself from a cliff and died. Feeling deeply guilty toward his Queen, the King of Wuling led his Yin soldiers to clear the last section of the river channel, completely eradicating the flood disaster.

The court issued a grand reward, inviting the True Lord of Wuling to govern another section of the river plagued by severe flooding. If he achieved complete success, he would be granted the status of a King and Minister. But the King of Wuling declared that he would henceforth live in seclusion in the deep gorges, vowing never to move mountains again unless his Queen was resurrected. A multitude of people saw him off when he departed.

The King of Wuling became heavily intoxicated and mistakenly wandered into Xiling Mountain, revealing his true form as he fell into a deep sleep. Unaware locals captured him, tightly bound him, and prepared a large cauldron, spending much effort on skinning and bleeding him. By the time his subordinates located the mountain-moving King of Wuling, the King’s flesh had already been boiled for some time.

Subsequently, the area suffered a massive plague, followed by locusts darkening the sky. The people declared this was the lingering spirit of the King of Wuling. They then built a grand tomb in the gorge, interring his remaining remains. However, only his skin and skeleton were left; his head and perhaps some parts had been eaten and were never recovered. They also built a Hall of Offerings for annual rites, commissioning a jade body and a bronze head for worship.

The crisscrossing gorges of “Coffin Gorge,” and the myriad treacherous bird paths covering the cliff faces, were all relics from when the King of Wuling commanded Yin soldiers to dredge the river. The local people who died during the successive flood control efforts were placed in hanging coffins, buried layer upon layer on the cliffs as the floodwaters receded. Though unintentional, this formation accidentally created the silhouette of a colossal headless figure, perhaps a premonition of the King of Wuling’s demise. Furthermore, before emerging from the mountains, the King of Wuling had led his Yin soldiers to excavate salt mineral veins; the salt well tunnels within Coffin Gorge marked the location of his mausoleum. To reach the tomb passage entrance from the Hall of Offerings required traversing a perilous stretch known as the “Hundred-Step Bird Path.”

Professor Sun recounted this entire passage verbatim. I suddenly realized: “So, the words left by Commander Feng actually only had the last sentence that was useful—or perhaps that was only the first part. It means the entrance to the Ancient Earth Immortal Tomb might be hidden within the Black Sheep King’s original tomb. Therefore, to seek the Earth Immortal, one must first find the Black Sheep. And the legend of the Black Sheep King’s mountain-moving and river-dredging serves as a vital clue to locating the King’s tomb. But this is only the first step in finding the Earth Immortal Village; there must surely be several subsequent hints, which we don't know yet.”

Irley Yang also had many questions about the “Black Sheep King” legend and asked Professor Sun: “This story doesn't sound like historical fact. According to this account, the King of Wuling was a virtuous man who helped the people by moving mountains and controlling floods. Yet the corpse effigies in the cave are so brutal, which starkly contradicts the events on the stele. Is the tomb of the Ancient King of truly in Coffin Gorge?”

Professor Sun replied: “Inscriptions on bronze bells and steles are generally words of praise and should not be taken as absolute truth. However, the eternal remains here compel belief that the tomb of the King of Wuling lies within Coffin Gorge. But the actual events might not be so. The legend of the Black Sheep King revealing his true form to move mountains is heavily colored by deification and naturally shouldn't be taken literally.” Furthermore, this matter is not recorded in any local gazettes or historical materials. Ancient shamanistic cultures are profound, and many events have been erased by the long river of history; they are now impossible to verify.

Fatty interjected: “I think Coffin Gorge is so sheer, it doesn't look like something ancient primitive labor could have chiseled out. These stories might just be self-aggrandizing nonsense. This headless King was probably wicked to the core, fearing his tomb would be desecrated after death, so he had steles erected in front of it. But then again, no matter how tyrannical the King of Wuling was in life, being cooked into pig's head meat and stew in the end—that's a fitting retribution.”

Professor Sun said: “That has a point. Based on my experience, the King of Wuling might not really have been a Black Sheep. China’s history is full of reversals; one moment it’s one way, the next it’s another. It’s hard to draw a final conclusion on anything. I recall historical records mentioning a similar feudal king. But it wasn't Wuling; it was Longchuan. It’s said the King of Longshan was cruel and extremely extravagant, yet he dredged rivers and controlled floods—a man whose merits and faults are hard to weigh. When he died, he was hacked to pieces by rebels. His descendants, fearing revengeful parties would desecrate the royal tomb, changed his title upon burial and used various methods to obscure the truth. As for which region the King of Longshan ruled, there are still conflicting accounts. Considering the ruins in Coffin Gorge, I suspect the King of Longchuan might well be the mountain-moving King of Wuling.”

Ninth Master Sun, usually reserved at work, naturally had no fear of speaking improperly in front of us. Once he started talking, he couldn't stop, citing profusely as he discussed the King of Longchuan. This man understood astrology and esoteric arts. Ancient water control and mountain moving were inseparable from Taoist techniques; without understanding the layout and (vein directions) of mountains and rivers, one not only achieves half the result with twice the effort but also invites endless future trouble. “When I researched the Bone Riddle Script,” he continued, “I discovered many records concerning floods and earthquakes…”

I said to Professor Sun: “Whether he was the Black Sheep King or the Longchuan King, his mausoleum was looted centuries ago. Success and failure turn to nothing. So, there's no need for us to verify historical merits or faults. Right now, we should figure out how to find that stretch of the Hundred-Step Bird Path. If the cave with the effigies is indeed the sacrificial site, according to Feng Shui burial layout, the entrance to the tomb passage must be located behind the jade figure; it shouldn’t be too hard to find. What worries me is that even entering the passage isn't the end.”

Professor Sun and Irley Yang were also deeply concerned. Commander Feng’s hints only went as far as the entrance to the Ancient Black Sheep King Tomb. After that, we had no reference points whatsoever. We would have to take things one step at a time. No one knew how far the Ancient Earth Immortal Village Tomb was. After a long discussion, they concluded that our fortune was unknown and the path ahead uncertain.

We rested in the cave until just before dawn, then shook off our weariness and pushed toward the rear of the cavern. Upon reaching the open space, we saw that we had indeed passed through the mountain. This side opened into another gorge of “Coffin Gorge.” Although much broader than the area lined with hanging coffins, it presented its own set of perilous scenes.

The surrounding peaks were shrouded in ethereal mist, vast and seemingly endless. The water below churned violently, striking the cliffs and forming an “A”-shaped turn. Further upstream was a roaring, thunderous waterfall. The rapid current “dropped sharply and turned abruptly” within the gorge, kicking up a mist that resembled a gigantic silver-scaled dragon descending from the heavens, plunging into the depths of the gorge and splitting the adjacent cliffs as it struck.

I gazed down at the swift current below. Despite having no fear of heights, I felt intensely dizzy. Looking across at the opposite cliff, I saw numerous winding, airborne bird paths, resembling a massive spider web embedded in the thousand-foot precipice, intricately tangled, dazzling the eyes.

Irley Yang peered through the binoculars for a while, hesitating: “Among the hundred precarious paths carved into the opposite mountain, there are many dead ends, but quite a few caves at the terminus. How can we know which segment exactly is the Hundred-Step Bird Path?”

I said, “Don’t rush. Ninth Master Sun did a great deal of work last night; otherwise, how would we know the origin of the Headless King? But we can’t let him take all the credit. Today, let the comrades see the skills of the ‘Grave Robbing Colonel.’ I reconfirmed with Professor Sun: was Commander Feng’s original phrase ‘Bird paths crisscross, returning nine times in a hundred steps’?”

Professor Sun immediately guaranteed it again, saying he had repeated this phrase in his mind for over a decade and was absolutely certain.

I nodded secretly, having already devised a plan. The keywords in “Bird paths crisscross, returning nine times in a hundred steps” must be “nine.” Looking at the bird paths on the opposite cliff face, they resembled the pattern of “dragons coiling around a mountain.” Regardless of who left these ancient relics in the gorge, they were absolutely not constructed arbitrarily. Others might fail to perceive this profound mystery, but this pattern of stellar movements and trigram arrangement struck right at the core of Mojin secret techniques.

Generally, ancient tombs, either in part or in whole, must conform to the number “nine,” symbolizing “eternal preservation.” The “Dragon Seeking Art” from the Sixteen-Character Yin-Yang Feng Shui Secret Art states: “Dragons coil across the river in nine bends, each bend is a nine-fold return; beyond the nine returns are nine turns, nine turns winding around the Dragon Tower; ninety-nine coils finally converge to one, in clusters of three entering the Sacred Mountain.”

Fatty exclaimed: “Commander Hu, your math is good—you’re already reciting nine times nine is eighty-one! But after all your talk of nine, I still can’t figure out which way we’re supposed to go.”

I explained: “When did I say eighty-one? Even three nines making twenty-seven? This is what we call the Dragon Seeking Posture Art. The mysteries of the Nine Palaces and Eight Trigrams are all embedded within it. If even a rough fellow like you can understand it, I might as well tear up this heirloom book and throw it in the river! Look at these bird paths, dense as a spider web, but only one path is real. You must start from the tenth path from the bottom. Turn at every third fork, turn twice, then skip three forks before turning again. Go down, not up; go left, not right. Repeat this nine times. The cave entrance you see then will be the correct one—it should be the entrance to the Black Sheep King’s passage.”

Professor Sun found this even more puzzling. Out of professional habit, he liked to investigate everything to the root. He asked me: “Zhuge Liang almost trapped General Lu Xun of Eastern Wu with the Eight Gates Formation, which seemed to utilize the principles of the Five Elements overcoming each other. These are arts lost for centuries—how do you still know them? Old Chen said these skills were passed down by your elders? What did your elders actually do?”

I glanced at Irley Yang, thinking: Irley Yang’s maternal grandfather was the chief of the Mountain Movers, a prestigious position! Her paternal grandfather came from a family of scholars. She could boast about any lineage. Even Youngest Sister’s sworn grandfather was an old venerable from “Honeycomb Mountain.”

Why was it that my Hu family, by my grandfather’s generation, was merely peddling fortune-telling and promoting feudal superstition? Such low awareness—it was embarrassing to even mention. So, I whispered in Professor Sun’s ear: “My grandfather was a renowned ‘Falcon’ who traveled across mountains and seas. He joined the revolution relatively early, but it was the ‘Xin’ revolution [referring to an old, non-establishment revolution]. The world of our trade calls his discipline ‘Golden Point.’ These skills of mine are hereditary. I haven’t even mastered one or two tenths of them, please forgive my exhibition.”

Professor Sun, who had frequently inquired about the jargon of the Mountain Classics from Irley Yang on the road, seemed enlightened upon hearing this and praised: “Remarkable, remarkable. If one weren't from a Green Forest lineage, one couldn't possess such peculiar talent.”

Fearing Ninth Master Sun would press further, I quickly led the way to find a navigable treacherous path down the mountain. Several iron-chain wooden bridges connected the seemingly boundless cliffs. Walking on them, the bridge swayed with the person, and below was the rushing great river—it was terrifying, and turning back was impossible. We braced ourselves and reached the opposite side.

Suddenly, mist and rain began to rise between the gorges, blurring the surrounding scenery. Fortunately, we had spotted the path beforehand. We found the entrance to the hanging bird paths and followed the mantra of the “Dragon Seeking Posture Art” upward. This section, soaked by rain, was more perilous than a shave; the path twisted and turned nine times in a hundred steps. Those walking behind could see the feet of the person ahead directly above them.

I silently recited the “Dragon Seeking Art” as I wound my way up the extremely dangerous cliffs. Yet, worried that I might have taken the wrong path, I was frequently distracted. As the saying goes, “Going up a mountain is easy, coming down is hard.” Climbing up, one only sees the path immediately ahead; even Fatty could manage. But descending, what met the eye was the mist of the deep gorge, enough to chill one's heart. If one lost focus for a second and slipped, not even the body could be retrieved. But the bird paths went up and down arbitrarily, twisting and turning without pattern.

Just as we reached the end of the Hundred-Step, Nine-Turn Bird Path, a tunnel of unfathomable depth appeared in the cliff face. I scrambled in first, reaching back to pull the other four in one by one, before examining the cave's interior closely. The fog here was thick, making breathing difficult. There were traces of ‘stone mother’ [mineral deposits] in the rock strata, completely different from the Qingxi air-raid shelters we saw earlier. This should be an ancient tunnel, leading to who knows where.

I had no certainty that this path was correct. Perhaps I had taken the wrong route on the cliff face, and my mind felt hazy. I walked a few steps inside with my wolf-eye flashlight, suddenly spotting a tombstone standing nearby. Sitting cross-legged before the stone was a corpse. Its face and clothes had weathered away, and most of the flesh had dissolved. It was unclear how long it had been dead. I quickly called Ninth Master Sun over to examine it and see if it was Commander Feng’s body.

Ninth Master Sun became visibly agitated upon seeing the mummy, his hands trembling as he donned a mask and gloves to carefully examine the deceased's head: “No... no... I remember Commander Feng was injured before he fled, losing several teeth. This corpse’s teeth are mostly intact; this shouldn't be Old Feng. But then who is this person? Wait... you all, come look at this!”

We thought the Professor was referring to the “unidentified corpse” and were about to look when we heard Professor Sun say: “Not the mummy, it’s this tombstone. It really is the marker for the Earth Immortal Village road.”

My spirit lifted immediately. Fatty and I quickly moved the “unidentified body” aside. The tombstone, previously obscured by the corpse, bore no name, but was deeply carved with five powerful characters: “Guan Shan Zhi Mi Fu” (Ode to Observing the Mountain and Pointing Out Confusion). On either side were several lines of smaller script. I glanced over it—it was precisely that passage hinting at the ancient tomb’s location: “A fine King, body without a head; if the Lady does not come, the mountains will not open...”

Seeing that the hints on this ruined stele were far more complete than what Commander Feng had whispered to Ninth Master Sun, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of joy: “So this section of the hint regarding the secret entrance to the Earth Immortal Village is called the Guan Shan Zhi Mi Fu. The lines that follow are...”