Unexpectedly, Old Li’s first words after packing up were, “I mean them, you don't need to worry about those few people. I’m heading out now to wait for you outside.”

Head out?

The current temperature immediately sprang to mind. Running outside on a night like this meant it was easily below minus ten degrees Celsius. Even though he was already wearing an overcoat, most people would freeze to death if they went out now, even clad in furs!

But right now, I simply couldn't stop him. Given the situation, if we all stayed put, and something went wrong, we wouldn’t have a single person outside to assist us.

If he went out, however, we would have someone to fall back on if we ran into trouble. Besides, although Old Li was a technician, his marksmanship and wilderness skills were not lacking. Sending him out was the best option available.

After all that talk, Old Li strode out the door regardless. Section Chief Wang and the others were still bundled up in their quilts, refusing to emerge. Frankly, I was growing more disgusted with these cadres from the offices by the minute. They were all so accustomed to comfort, and yet in this predicament, they expected us to serve them, still acting like the big shots of the administration!

Since the decision was made, I paid them no further mind. If anything happened shortly, I was absolutely going to abandon these guys immediately.

Old Li pushed the door open and stepped outside. I clicked the safety back onto my handgun and slipped it into the holster. After all, a handgun is too unpredictable; it would be terrible if it accidentally discharged and shot me.

Seeing Old Li leave, Section Chief Wang and the others seemed to snap back to awareness. They quickly gathered around me, asking, “Where is Old Li going? What are you people planning to do!”

I shot them an impatient glance and stated coldly, “He’s gone out to keep watch. This place isn’t safe either.”

Hearing this explanation, they relaxed a little, but not a single one of them showed even a sliver of concern for Old Li. Seeing their attitude only made me more irritable; I didn't want to spend another second with these people.

Packing up my gear, I retreated alone to the back room. Looking at the large stone blocking the opening, my agitation intensified. I paced back and forth in the room, unable to grasp any clear idea.

The time was nearing seven in the evening. While it was far from dark in Tibet, the sky was indeed darkening. For some reason, the kitchen area was sealed up tight, and the light was surprisingly dim.

Thinking of this, I felt an urge to make my immediate surroundings a bit brighter. After all, staying too long in such a pitch-black, confined space could make a person depressed. No sooner thought than done, I flipped on my flashlight to look for the location of a window I remembered from before. Unexpectedly, when the beam of light hit the largest wall, I saw a large skull staring back at me under the white light.

The skull was a good thirty centimeters across. The drawing style was crude, and the lines were messy; it was clearly something scribbled down casually.

However, beneath where the skull was drawn, there were some faded inscriptions. Having something like this in this location already lent an unusual atmosphere to the scene.

Driven by curiosity, I boldly approached the skull mural and the writing beneath it.

I moved right up to the drawing and the script. Fortunately, due to my preference for high-end gear, the flashlight in my hand was a top-tier LED model, so the cold white light illuminated both the picture and the text quite clearly.

The handwriting seemed rather sloppy, as if written in a rush, and the color was a dark red. I privately speculated that it might have been written with the red spring water from that opening.

The message above was relatively simple, consisting of only three sentences. The first read, “DO NOT MOVE THAT STONE.” The second, “ABSOLUTELY DO NOT DRINK THE WATER INSIDE.” The third, “LEAVE HERE IMMEDIATELY!”

Only the third sentence had punctuation marks, and the writing looked heavily crossed out, likely an attempt to make the inscription clearer.

As I was reading, a thought suddenly struck me. Listening to Old Li, it seemed the water in that spring wasn’t always red. If it were the color of blood, surely no one would be foolish enough to drink it without a special warning?

If this assumption held true, what was the person who left these inscriptions using? Blood? Human blood?

The thought sent a shiver down my spine. What kind of situation would force someone to use blood to leave such a warning?

In the corner of the drawing, I found another name: Wang Weicheng. The more I looked at it, the more familiar it seemed? Then I suddenly recalled—wasn't this Wang Weicheng the name carved onto the cement road? And then, with a rare surge of clarity, I remembered seeing this name in our main station’s records, specifically in the Station History Museum.

Just then, Section Chief Wang, perhaps unable to find me outside, also walked into the room with his head down. Seeing me staring at the wall, he curiously asked, “Little Luo, what are you looking at?”

I suddenly remembered that Section Chief Wang was apparently in charge of station administration. Perhaps he might know something. So, I casually asked, “Do you know a person named Wang Weicheng?”

Startled by the sudden mention of the name, Section Chief Wang paused, unable to recall immediately. I had to prompt him further: “I remember seeing that name in the main station’s History Museum, I just can’t recall where exactly.”

Upon hearing "History Museum," Section Chief Wang slapped his head hard. “I know! It was the 717 incident. He was driving the vehicle; all thirteen people on board plunged to their deaths in the mountain ravine. That was many years ago. Why are you asking about him now?”

When he mentioned that Wang Weicheng was dead, a chill ran through my entire body. Then, I looked back at Section Chief Wang with a bitter smile and said, “He, and perhaps those other dozen people, all died here.”

Section Chief Wang froze at my words. After a long moment, he finally came back to his senses, grabbed me, and roared, “Don’t talk nonsense! I saw photos of the accident scene!”

I could understand his reaction. Even with their usual dullness, they must have sensed something was terribly wrong by now. Moreover, for some reason, I had felt a profound sense of unease the moment I arrived here; I wondered if they felt it too.

However, seeing his current state, he must have finally realized something. I soothed him for a moment. Once Section Chief Wang calmed down a bit, I pointed to the drawing on the wall and told him, “I suspect this was left in blood by him before he died.”

Section Chief Wang stared blankly, lost in thought. After quite some time, he seemed to make a monumental decision and said, “Technician Luo, whatever I say next, pretend you never heard it.”

I knew he was about to tell me something, something that could jeopardize his career.

Section Chief Wang took a deep breath and looked at me, speaking word by word, “Little Luo, I don’t know if you believe in ghosts and spirits, but I have to tell you something. Three years ago, an incident occurred locally: a child’s heart was eaten.”

Hearing him describe it with such gravity, I couldn't help but find it slightly comical. Compared to what we were facing now, that incident didn't seem so significant. Besides, in this day and age, a pervert like that wasn’t impossible!

Seeing my unimpressed reaction, he suddenly sneered, “You think it was those organ traffickers? No. His heart just… vanished!”

A living person suddenly collapsed while walking. By the time he was rushed to the hospital, he was dead. During the autopsy, they discovered the heart was gone from his chest cavity, with not a single external wound!

After finishing the story, Section Chief Wang stood there staring intently at me, leaving me at a loss for words. He scrutinized me for a while, then finally sighed, “This is true. The higher-ups forbade us from spreading the word. But I’m good friends with the child’s father and know a bit about the details. The doctor who performed the autopsy was terrified, muttering about appeasing the Zan God. Later, his father told me the child suffered because he picked up an offering to the Zan God from the mountain.”

I did know that the Zan Gods were deities worshipped in the original Tibetan religions. Later, when Master Padmasambhava entered Tibet, it was said he incorporated most of the Zan Gods into the protectors of the Vajrayana school.

However, in some regions, particularly centered around Nyingchi, they still worshipped those Zan Gods, and rumor had it they were quite potent.

After explaining this, Section Chief Wang’s mood grew darker. He nervously rubbed his hands, muttering, “We must have trespassed into the forbidden grounds of those monsters. What do we do? What do we do?”

He still didn’t know that he transformed into that other self every night. I didn’t want to tell him now. In this situation, it was better to have one less problem. If he went mad over that other matter, my chances of survival would undoubtedly shrink further.

After staying there for a while longer, my thoughts were still a jumble. Both the strange occurrences plaguing Section Chief Wang and the facts Old Li seemed to be withholding left me utterly bewildered. Up to this point, there wasn't a single thread connecting all these events. Yet, deep down, I had a nagging feeling that these incidents must be related somehow.

Let’s change the angle. Suppose all these things are connected to those so-called Zan Gods. Then the only conclusion is that a new recruit accidentally provoked a Zan God dwelling in these mountains. Unfortunately, this Zan God happened to be a grumpy fellow. Not only did it deal with the scoundrel who angered it, but it decided to take us down with him.

This explanation seemed the most plausible right now. If this line of reasoning held, once a Zan God was angered, it required a sacrifice to appease its wrath—usually something like an entire ox or sheep, which needed a Bönpo shaman to perform the rites.

Looking at it this way, the few of us seemed doomed this time. The more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt. Things shouldn't be this way. The situation Old Li and his group faced back then was ten times more dangerous than this, yet they managed to resolve it. Moreover, that Banchen should have been a monk, not a Bönpo shaman.

As I was thinking, I walked over to the bonfire and suddenly heard a crisp snap beneath my foot, as if I had crushed something.