Forty-Three hesitated for a moment. "The reports from over there haven't come in yet, so I haven't said much. I only mentioned briefly that we are aware of his every move."

Clearly referring to me, I interrupted, "What reports? Are they about that treasure?"

Eighty-Seven was very easygoing and didn't hide anything. "It’s not entirely unrelated to the treasure, but exactly what the situation is right now, it's hard to say. I'm waiting for the various inspection reports for Tang Minghao and Geng Wei. Those two—there might be some anomaly, especially Tang Minghao, who is our primary focus... He..." Just as he was about to say more, someone suddenly shouted from outside the door, "Report!"

Eighty-Seven said, "Come in."

Forty-Three immediately rushed to open the door.

In walked a man who looked like a mere underling, holding two thick folders. He walked straight over, handed them to Eighty-Seven with both hands, gave a crisp salute, and without another word, turned and left. Forty-Three closed the door securely before approaching again. However, he kept his distance, not daring to even glance at the files in Eighty-Seven's hands.

When Forty-Three had apprehended me earlier, he had carried an imposing air, every move steeped in dominance. To see him now, so meek and deferential toward the merchant-like Eighty-Seven, suggested that Eighty-Seven held considerable status and influence.

Eighty-Seven shifted slightly to the side, just enough to block my view of what was on the documents. He scanned them incredibly fast, turning a page almost every few seconds. The rustling sound of the paper was jarringly clear in the quiet room.

While I tried to guess if the files were related to Tang Minghao and Geng Wei, I also mulled over their previous words, trying to gauge how much of what they said was credible—I hoped it was all true, that way it would have nothing to do with Zhuoma Yangjin. The thought made me curse my own weakness; why was I still trying to make excuses for a woman like Zhuoma Yangjin, who had repeatedly manipulated and used me? I was utterly conflicted, cycling through endless doubts.

Soon, Eighty-Seven finished reading the two large folders. He casually tossed them to Forty-Three. "Take a look. It is just as we suspected—a mutation. Especially Tang Minghao; he suddenly has a host of strange memories in his head, yet we can find no trace of an external entity invading and settling in his brain."

Forty-Three took the files with a grave expression, moved aside, and began to examine them closely.

They were indeed the inspection reports for Tang and Geng. "What happened to Tang Minghao?" I quickly asked.

Eighty-Seven waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing serious. He just suddenly acquired some fragmented old knowledge about the Guge Kingdom."

I froze, blurting out in disbelief, "Could it be Mima Chamar?" Then, recalling Mima Chamar's ferocious disposition, I quickly negated the idea. "No, no, not him. It must be the other one, the one who knew Doctor Tsering."

Eighty-Seven looked at me with genuine interest, seeming quite surprised. "Oh? You actually know of Mima Chamar?"

I shook my head, hurriedly explaining that it was just what Yanzi called him, claiming he was a deity, but that I knew nothing of this god's true identity.

Eighty-Seven immediately and firmly dismissed the possibility. "How could it be Mima Chamar! No, definitely not. He is a guardian deity revered by the Tibetan people; why would he suddenly invade the body of a Han Chinese when you haven't offended him? Even if it were unavoidable, you still have the young Tibetan girl, Bian Zhen, with you; he could seek her out as a vessel—so, this must be a vicious character like that one associated with Doctor Tsering. Therefore, it seems Tang Minghao's memories belong to the other person you mentioned."

I nodded, feeling as if there were countless questions demanding answers, yet I didn't know where to begin. As the conversation deepened, I started to develop a sliver of trust in this man, who at least appeared straightforward. "Will Tang Minghao himself be affected?" I was genuinely still worried about him.

Eighty-Seven assured me not to worry, saying that not only would Tang Minghao be fine, but he might even benefit from this misfortune. Then, he once again tried to explain that I must not blame Zhuoma Yangjin, insisting that she was unaware of what happened in Yunnan this time... He spoke extensively, putting in a good word for Zhuoma Yangjin repeatedly. This, in turn, made me suspect all over again that they were merely agents of Zhuoma Yangjin, just wearing different uniforms.

Suddenly hyper-alert, I resolved not to fall into their trap this time.

Eighty-Seven immediately noticed the shift in my demeanor. After a moment of thought, he asked me, "Do you know why you were brought here?"

I kept my mouth tightly shut, answering only with my eyes.

Eighty-Seven didn't seem to mind. "If we had been a little late, you would have been torn to shreds by two international factions."

Forty-Three seemed to have mentioned something similar, talking about me being involved in some kind of international incident. What a joke! I, the insignificant Luo, have always been law-abiding and respectful of authority; I haven't even dealt with foreigners. How could I be entangled in an international case? It must be another elaborate trap; they must have coordinated this seamless series of schemes.

With this realization, all my wavering doubts vanished instantly. If nothing they said could be trusted, why was I still agonizing over whether Zhuoma Yangjin had played me? I retorted with a sarcastic edge, "You people are so omniscient; haven't you investigated the fact that I have never had dealings with foreigners? Why don't you call the Commander-in-Chief and ask him?"

Eighty-Seven merely smiled. "Think carefully. The group led by Yamamoto on Mount Qiangba, the several groups of Europeans you encountered in Lhasa, and the Matyass group you faced directly beneath the Guge ruins—weren't those foreigners?"

I was stunned. Could those persistent shadows have followed us all the way to Yunnan?

Eighty-Seven continued, "Although your activities appeared accidental and secretive, known to no one, according to the intelligence we possess, Yamamoto’s side alone dispatched four or five teams to track you constantly, not to mention those German fellows, who were even more numerous. If we hadn't intercepted these various parties for you, Zhuoma Yangjin wouldn't have even had a chance to look your way, let alone leisurely arranging for you to enjoy the sunshine and breakfast in a luxury hotel."

I felt fine beads of sweat beginning to form on my forehead. What he was saying didn't seem fabricated; there was a degree of logic to it.

"Forty-Three taking you away then was also out of necessity. Because the Germans and the Japanese were planning to forcefully seize you. Oh, and besides Zhuoma Yangjin’s special status protecting her from rash action, they had already formulated detailed kidnapping plans for you, Li Zeng, Xu Zhiwu, Tang Minghao, Geng Wei, and Bian Zhen (Yanzi). If we hadn't intercepted the intelligence beforehand, nobody could be certain whether you were alive or dead right now. In short, even if they couldn't extract valuable information from your mouths or bodies, they couldn't let you live, couldn't let China discover this secret first."

Eighty-Seven's expression grew heavier as he spoke, while my palms were already slick with sweat. Every word he uttered struck the critical points, illuminating many things I couldn't previously understand.

Just then, Forty-Three approached and respectfully reported to Eighty-Seven, "Report, Eighty-Seven, I'm finished reading." Eighty-Seven nodded, gesturing for him to sit down. He stopped addressing me and turned to him, asking, "What is your assessment?"

Forty-Three pondered for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "At present, it appears to be a mutation. After all, it's such an ancient kingdom; there are aspects we simply don't understand. They might have retained some form of mysterious sorcery."

Eighty-Seven mused, repeating the word thoughtfully, "Sorcery... sorcery... That's hard to say. Although we study this field, I still feel there's something peculiar here, something that sorcery cannot fully explain... But then again, what we don't know can't mean it doesn't exist."

Forty-Three quickly nodded. "Indeed, indeed."

Eighty-Seven lowered his head in contemplation for a moment, then concluded, "In any case, it is related to the overnight disappearance of the Guge Kingdom, and moreover, it is connected to the so-called immortality. He sighed again, "We Daoists also pursue eternal life, becoming immortals... Alas... No matter how long one lives, death comes eventually. Living this one life with integrity is nearly enough."

The short man continued to agree wholeheartedly.

What they said made me feel slightly clearer about some things, and perhaps even more muddled about others.

Just then, Forty-Three approached and respectfully reported to Eighty-Seven, "Report, Eighty-Seven, I'm finished reading." Eighty-Seven nodded, signaling him to sit down. He stopped paying attention to me and turned to him, asking, "What is your take?"

Forty-Three considered deeply, choosing his words with precision. "As it stands, it's a mutation. After all, it's such an ancient kingdom; there are areas we don't fully grasp. Perhaps they retained certain mysterious magical arts."

Eighty-Seven repeated thoughtfully, "Magical arts... magical arts... That’s hard to pin down. Although this is our area of study, I still feel there's a complexity here that magical arts alone cannot account for... But then again, our ignorance doesn't prove its non-existence."

Forty-Three quickly concurred. "Quite right, quite right."

Eighty-Seven bowed his head in reflection for a while, then delivered his conclusion, "In short, it is connected to the sudden vanishing of the Guge Dynasty, and furthermore, it's linked to that supposed eternal life. He then lamented, "Even we Daoists seek longevity, to become Buddhas or Immortals... Ah well... No matter how long a person lives, the end remains the same word—death. Living the current life honestly is about as good as it gets."

The short man could only echo his agreement.

Their conversation seemed to clarify some things in my mind, yet paradoxically left me more bewildered than before.