Sun Jiuye came from a distinguished lineage. Although his ancestors, the Guanshan Taibao, had mastered less than a tenth of their craft, he was nonetheless familiar from childhood with various scripts of insects, fish, and the ancient seals known as Woxing. After his release from the Fruit Orchard Ditch labor farm, he regained his position and spent years poring over the dragon bone heavenly texts from the Shang and Zhou dynasties, accumulating exposure to numerous inscriptions on bone, shell, and bronze in recent years. However, his focus was not on his official duties. Due to his inability to manage interpersonal relationships, Sun Jiuye was constantly suppressed by various figures of authority, never afforded an opportunity to rise.

Thus, despite achieving some results, Sun Jiuye kept them concealed for further private study, and over time, his collection of findings had become substantial. The so-called Zhoutian Old Hexagrams are the pivot of Yin and Yang, the track of Heaven and Earth; they certainly cannot be fully deciphered merely by piecing together sporadic diagrams and archaic seals.

Since acquiring the bronze mirror from Guixu, Sun Jiuye discovered that the Hui hexagram diagram engraved on the back of the ancient mirror held boundless mysteries. Given enough time, combined with his research on the Zhoutian Old Hexagrams, it might be possible to bring the lost complete Zhoutian Hexagrams back into the world.

But compared to the Zhoutian Old Hexagrams, which had been lost for thousands of years, Sun Jiuye had more pressing matters to attend to. The Year of the Earth Rat, occurring once every twelve years, was approaching, and the matter of the ancient tomb in Dixian Village could not be delayed. He could not afford to spend another seven or eight years researching the sixteen-character heavenly hexagrams. At that time, he intended to bring the ancient mirror into the tomb to suppress the corpse, so he had no choice but to bury his research materials, along with the hexagram charts and images he had collected, in the tunnel at the bottom of the dry well.

In 1971, the entire nation was engaged in preparations for war and famine, extensively promoting the movement to dig deeper shelters and stockpile grain. Beijing was also expanding its civil air defense projects underground. That dry well where things were hidden led into a section of abandoned, sealed-off tunnels. Sun Jiuye drew a simple diagram in his letter, marking the location and the various entrances. He hoped we could return to Beijing to unearth his belongings, believing that if fate allowed in the future, we might master the complete Zhoutian Old Hexagrams; this would serve as his form of compensation and repayment.

Subsequently, he mentioned in the letter that he was sending along a few items. The first was the bronze dragon tally lost in Coffin Gorge. The ancient tomb in Dixian Village had been destroyed by lightning and fire, possibly because the sea energy within the dragon tally was too potent, or perhaps due to drastic shifts in the Feng Shui energies of the Pangu meridian at Coffin Mountain. Regardless, the three bronze artifacts from Guixu brought from Beijing—the two tallies and the mirror—were ultimately recovered intact.

Furthermore, Coffin Mountain was an ancient forbidden ground for shamanistic rituals and ghost worship, where the heavy miasma of putrefaction was particularly intense. The ancient tomb of the Black Sheep King in the Corpse Head Vein belonged to this category. Even with gas masks for protection, complete safety could not be guaranteed. The skin of the ** would inevitably become tainted with the faint, corrupting breath of the gloom, leading to the gradual appearance of black spots and bruises, followed by vomiting blood and coughing black phlegm. Although not immediately fatal, prolonged exposure would leave behind insidious roots of illness deep within the body.

Therefore, he enclosed several stalks of Nine Deaths Soul-Changing Grass in the letter, scientifically known as Selaginella tamariscina. This plant exclusively grows in deep, desolate valleys. When water and soil nutrients are insufficient, it withers and enters a state of suspended animation, with all cellular metabolism ceasing, only to be reborn shortly after, thus earning the name Nine Deaths Rebirth Grass. In folk medicine, it is also called "immortality grass" or "thousand-year grass." Externally, it can be used as a dressing for wounds; internally, it dissolves stasis, detoxifies, and dissipates the deep, inherent corruption clinging to the bone marrow.

In the county town's traditional Chinese medicine shop, one can purchase ingredients for phlegm reduction, such as dried crocodile meat, along with a few other herbs. By incinerating a whole stalk of the immortality grass into ash, mixing it with the other ingredients, and taking it continuously for three days, the affliction can be thoroughly eradicated. In the past, this thousand-year immortality grass grew in abundance on the sheer cliffs of Coffin Gorge, featuring nine whiskers and nine leaves, distinguishing it from common Selaginella. However, it is now quite rare. These few stalks, though few, are sufficient for five or six people.

Sun Jiuye concluded his letter by stating that our accounts were now settled. He had no further concerns about the outside world, and after the bone needle pierced his brain, his spirit would scatter; he feared he wouldn't even be able to become a ghost after death. With little time left, after burying his father’s and brother’s remains, he intended to stay in Coffin Gorge to await death, wishing never to see outsiders again. By the time we read this letter, his bones might already be cold, buried by the Bashan apes in some secret location. Coffin Gorge is filled with towering mountains and crisscrossing cliffs; even hiding an army of one hundred thousand would leave no trace. Therefore, do not waste any effort trying to find me in the mountains. And please, you must not reveal anything about me to anyone.

We read this letter sent by the Bashan Shu Apes, feeling half-convinced and half-doubtful. Since the incident at the ancient tomb in Dixian Village, everyone's perception of Sun Jiuye had undergone a fundamental shift. Previously, we viewed him as merely an overly self-centered, stubborn, extreme, and unsociable expert in ancient scripts. But afterward, we realized that Old Man Sun was not only of unusual background but also exceptionally adept at concealing himself—a man of supreme intelligence. As the saying goes, "Great forms have no shape; great wisdom appears foolish." We couldn't tell if this related to his ancestry as Guanshan Taibao. His actions left no discernible trace; even an immortal could not fathom his mind.

Despite our extensive knowledge and broad experience, we fell for his deception. Before entering Coffin Mountain, none of us detected his disguise. Just as the Book of Thick Black Theory states: "A dark heart with no color, a thick face with no shape." How could mere mortals see through him? This was the superior mastery of Sun Jiuye that others could not reach.

If only everyone were like Uncle Ming from Hong Kong—seemingly shrewd and cunning, but operating at such a low level that one knows he is untrustworthy before he even speaks. Who would trust him? Anyone with any street smarts would not be fooled by the likes of Uncle Ming. Compared to the profoundly reserved Sun Jiuye, Little Zhuge Ming Uncle could almost be considered an honest man.

Yao Mei’er, being a local mountain woman, recognized the characteristics of medicinal herbs. She confirmed that the Nine Deaths Soul-Rebirth Grass growing in Coffin Gorge was almost extinct and that these few stalks were exceedingly rare and could indeed neutralize the corrupting poison. Still uneasy, I found an old TCM doctor in the county town and confirmed that the principles of jun (sovereign) and chen (minister) in the prescription were sound. Only then did we consume it according to the method.

Within a few days, everyone’s physical condition improved. We discussed our next course of action and felt we should try to locate Sun Jiuye. But Coffin Gorge was geographically complex, its terrain rugged and deep, perpetually shrouded in mist, concealing countless various hanging coffins. With the Bashan Shu Apes assisting Sun Jiuye, we were in the open while he was hidden; finding him would be exceptionally difficult.

We ventured back into the mountains to search for him again, but it was fruitless. Seeing that it was practically impossible to find Sun Jiuye, who was waiting alone for death in Coffin Gorge, we reluctantly prepared to head back to Beijing.

Before leaving, after finishing dinner in the county town, Fatty and I started packing our bags. Although we failed to find the alchemic cauldron in the ancient tomb this time, our trip was not entirely without gain. First, we brought back several scrolls of paintings from Dixian Village, all authentic works drawn by Feng Shigu, the Guanshan Taibao. Although this man was not renowned for his brushwork or painting, scrolls like the Guanshan House-Viewing Diagram were rare masterworks of their kind from previous dynasties, which we could take to Liulichang to have Second Master Qiao appraise for a price.

In addition, there was a gilded box that Fatty had managed to acquire from the Yin tomb in Dixian Village. At the time, we encountered a female corpse carried by a golden ox inside the ancient tomb, holding this ritualistic box in her arms. That tomb chamber had been moved to Dixian Village from elsewhere by the Guanshan Taibao. The mechanism involving the golden ox carrying the corpse was ingeniously designed. Once a tomb robber intruded into the main chamber, they would trigger a hidden latch mechanism in the ox. Upon activation, the golden ox would immediately charge the tomb wall panel, causing it to flip and transport the tomb owner’s remains into the rear chamber.

We could only judge that this golden ox tomb was built during the Ming Dynasty, but we could not confirm the tomb owner’s name, background, or why the main tomb featured such an intricate structure.

Fatty, adhering to the rule of never leaving empty-handed, pocketed a ritual object. However, after encountering various dangers, he had completely forgotten about it. While sorting his things, he suddenly remembered and quickly pulled it out, eager to see what was inside.

The gilded box was exquisitely crafted, and the tomb owner was a woman, so we guessed it likely contained buried gold, silver jewelry, or perhaps jade bracelets and other gems. Given the ingenious tomb mechanisms, the owner's status must have been significant. The accompanying artifact was naturally quite valuable; shaking it in hand, it felt heavy and made no rattling sound. Fatty and I wanted a preview. Seeing that the box was locked, we dared not force it open for fear of damaging any valuable contents, so we asked Yao Mei’er for assistance.

After Yao Mei’er picked the silver lock, we looked into the box together. Upon clearly seeing the contents, we felt a mixture of surprise and disappointment. The gilded box held no jewels or precious metals, but several thick, old books whose pages were mostly deep yellow. I flipped one open; it didn't resemble sutras or classical texts. The books were filled with bizarre illustrations and arcane annotations, appearing as mysterious as heavenly script.

However, as the saying goes, "Heavenly script has no words," because true heavenly texts contain only hexagram diagrams and charts, appearing as nothing more than mysterious symbols resembling tadpoles, insects, and fish; any text present would be later interpretations. But I was certain that these few thick volumes were definitely not like the I Ching I was familiar with. Looking closer, I realized they strongly resembled diagrams for constructing mechanisms and latches from ancient times.

It is said that one profession’s expertise is another’s impenetrable barrier. This was my first encounter with such an ancient text, and I didn't dare make an arbitrary judgment. Fortunately, Yao Mei’er had absorbed all the skills from Honeycomb Mountain, so I asked her to take a good look and see if she could decipher what these books recorded.

Yao Mei’er looked through a few pages, her expression showing surprise. This set of ancient texts appeared to be the Wuhou Hidden Soldier Diagrams. Although later attributed to Zhuge Wuhou, it first appeared during the Tang and Song dynasties, the mechanisms and latches it described were exceedingly profound and exquisite, surpassing even the legendary wooden oxen and flowing horses of the late Han and Three Kingdoms period.

The Wuhou Hidden Soldier Diagrams are also the cornerstone treasure of the ancient trade of Honeycomb Mountain. One could say they are the equivalent of the Sixteen-Character Yin-Yang Feng Shui Secret Arts for the Grave Robbers. Successive generations of Feng Ye craftsmen viewed this set of diagrams as their ultimate, carefully guarded secret, but unfortunately, it had been lost for a long time. Although Yao Mei’er’s godfather, Locksmith Li, possessed exquisite craftsmanship capable of deceiving ghosts and gods, he failed to learn even three or four tenths of the techniques contained in the Wuhou Hidden Soldier Diagrams.

Such exceptional skills have always been the foundation of survival for various factions. Most masters teach their apprentices like "teaching a tiger a cat’s trick," withholding a lifesaving skill that allows one to climb a tree. Combined with rules like "teach the male but not the female, teach the eldest but not the youngest," the transmission of specialized arts often became thinner and thinner, frequently suffering from gaps in succession or even the complete severing of the lineage.

In the past century, as global science and technology advanced by leaps and bounds, China's traditional trades inevitably seemed somewhat disjointed. Too much was lost in the early years, and now, they cannot even inherit and perfect what remains, which continues to vanish. The hidden weapon skills of the Honeycomb Mountain locksmiths are one example. Consequently, the Wuhou Hidden Soldier Diagrams were too profound for Yao Mei’er; she couldn't understand much of it.

When Fatty saw that the ritual object in the gilded box was just a few worn books, his interest immediately waned. He kept the box, intending to sell it at Panjiayuan later, and asked me what to do with the remaining diagram books.

I said that the Wuhou Hidden Soldier Diagrams were by no means ordinary objects, but outsiders simply couldn't understand them. Since these items belonged to someone else, their falling into the hands of ordinary people was a monstrous waste. Since we entered Coffin Gorge seeking Dixian Village, and Yao Mei’er had helped us immensely, we should give the Wuhou Hidden Soldier Diagrams to Shopkeeper Li as repayment for his kindness. Perhaps Shopkeeper Li would know the origin and source of the hidden soldier diagrams, and we could gain some insight alongside him.

Fatty readily agreed. He said the items were useless sitting with us anyway; if we took them to Shopkeeper Li's general store, we could trade them for three or five Vajra Umbrellas. Even if we stopped raiding tombs after this, we could take them to the beach by the sea in California to provide shade, perhaps even setting a trend for America and the whole world.

As we spoke, Shirley Yang approached me to discuss matters. At this moment, Duo Ling’s life was hanging by a thread. Since we came up empty-handed in the Dixian Village ancient tomb, it might be better to detour to Hunan to find the fortune-teller Blind Chen. He was the former leader of the Xie Ling bandit group, possessed extraordinary experience and knowledge, and only he could help us devise a new plan.

I thought that would be best. Chen, who once commanded bandits across the seventy-two strongholds of the south and the sixty-three provinces of the north, was truly a figure who could "summon the wind and command the rain." It wasn't until the tomb raiding at Bottle Mountain in western Hunan that he must have encountered some misfortune or offended some fierce deity. Not only did he fail to make a comeback, but he suffered successive setbacks, having an extremely rough time. He lost many men before even reaching Cover Dragon Mountain, and the rest of his crew perished in the mountains; only he barely escaped, losing sight in one eye and living in obscurity until today.

However, Blind Chen was very familiar with the Lingshu back then and had numerous informants, knowing intelligence about ancient tombs across various regions. He even had knowledge of the Yellow Weasel Graves in Northeast China, about which few people south of the pass knew. We now had no choice but to ask him to rack his brain and recall—which ancient tomb or desolate mound might still house an alchemic cauldron or strange artifact.

The place where he was now, Xiangyin, was once the stronghold of the Changshengshan Xie Ling bandits. According to Chen, standard operating procedure dictated that groups raiding tombs for profit and clues regarding burials throughout history must be meticulously documented. If we were lucky, we might uncover information left over from before the Liberation, which would be far better than our current method of aimlessly searching. Although this endeavor might not certainly succeed, no one had a better idea right now. We had already made up our minds to head straight for Hunan, but just then, unwelcome news arrived: Duo Ling had died in America.