The two men, Forty-Three and Thirty-Eight, hadn't even blinked, leaving their intentions a mystery. If those three joined forces, Protector Qin would have no chance to fight back.

Yet, Protector Qin seemed utterly unconcerned, striding ahead to lead the way. In just over ten minutes, the path abruptly opened up, flooding the tunnel with a wash of dim, golden sunlight.

Protector Qin snuffed out the torch, announcing they were nearly there.

It was only then I noticed the sun was nearly setting; it must have been around seven or eight in the evening (the sun sets later in Tibet than in the interior). Looking out, we could still see swathes of lush, green trees beyond.

Finally, things felt normal again. Those moments back there were just a sudden fright; thank heavens, it was a scare without true harm. I secretly let out a breath of relief.

The killing intent radiating from Eighty-Seven vanished with the appearance of the sun. Forty-Three and Thirty-Eight, however, remained highly tense, guarding Jomolyangjin—the King of Guge—they dared not, nor could they afford to let her suffer any mishap. Perhaps they were overly nervous; as long as I drew breath, how could I allow Jomolyangjin even the slightest injury?

Protector Qin stepped out of the cave first, calling back to us, "Have I misled you, good sirs?"

I nodded awkwardly, offering a strained smile. Eighty-Seven acted as if nothing had happened, laughing cheerfully, saying it was just a misunderstanding, that he’d been tense fearing some monster might appear, and asked Protector Qin not to mind him.

My intuition screamed that Eighty-Seven had genuinely intended to kill, and that intent remained, though now perfectly masked. But why would he want to kill Protector Qin?

We filed out of the cave. After the long, dark tunnel and the preceding terror, the sudden sight of blue sky, white clouds, green trees, and the setting sun filled me with inexpressible joy. Unconsciously, I squeezed Jomolyangjin’s slightly cold hand, simply gazing at her with a dopey smile, at a loss for words. Her presence alone was enough. If only time could freeze at this very second.

But that was mere fantasy, for immediately we discovered something even more disheartening. From where we stood, the ground dropped away into a sheer cliff. The surrounding mountains formed almost entirely vertical slopes, encircling us like the staves of a barrel, offering not a single visible exit, opening only into a broad valley floor far below.

"Down you go," came Protector Qin’s shout. Immediately, an immense force pressed from behind. I staggered, losing my balance, and tumbled forward. Wind roared past my ears. When I next realized anything, I had crashed heavily onto a soft, grassy slope, followed by Jomolyangjin, Eighty-Seven, and the rest, with Protector Qin landing last.

"My apologies, my apologies…" He stood up, cupped his hands in apology, and pulled us all to our feet. Before we could speak, he boomed, "Elder Brother, Second Brother, they have arrived."

As the words faded, with a sudden whoosh, a dozen sturdy men dressed exactly like Protector Qin spilled out from the trees and bushes, surrounding the grassy hill. One man, slightly shorter with a dark complexion, bowed to us, introducing himself, "I am Protector Wei Guo. You have all had a difficult journey." He then waved toward Protector Qin, saying, "Invite the guests down, please."

Protector Qin immediately and formally requested us to descend.

Once down, the group surrounded us, staring with open curiosity like spectators at a sideshow, exchanging glances; it was quite comical.

Perhaps from watching too much Qing opera, we felt no curiosity towards them, other than the initial surprise upon seeing Protector Qin.

Maybe this was a community of Qing Dynasty loyalists who had retreated from the chaos of war and were now "ignorant of the Wei and Jin dynasties." The thought instantly lifted a great weight from my chest.

Then, Protector Wei Guo invited us to sit on a patch of ground strewn with dry grass. His men sat as well. Moments later, someone brought warm fruit wine emanating a rich fruity aroma, and others presented large, crude ceramic amphorae for us to drink from. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. It is cold in the mountains; you need to keep warm." Protector Wei Guo spoke in the same formal, antiquated style as Protector Qin. "These are my sworn brothers; we mean no harm."

We accepted the cups, but none of us took a sip. Nor did the men urge us.

Eighty-Seven gently nudged my back, signaling me to take the lead in addressing them.

"We are professional expedition members," I replied, using the cover story Eighty-Seven had arranged. "Could you tell us where this place is, and what year it is?" First, I needed to confirm whether I had truly fallen into some melodramatic transmigration scenario.

Protector Wei Guo paused, taken aback by my question. "This is Galongla Mountain (a range within the Yarlung Tsangpo Grand Canyon), is it not?" He sounded uncertain as he spoke, turning to seek confirmation from Protector Qin, who merely shook his head blankly, saying he didn't know. Protector Wei Guo dropped the issue, pondered for a moment, and then said, "As for the time, how should one calculate it? Over one hundred years past Tongzhi? That's not how it should be reckoned, but since I do not know who the current Emperor is, that is all I can say." He finished with an apologetic smile.

Over a hundred years past Tongzhi? They certainly wouldn't know the Guangxu or Xuantong emperors who followed… I felt a shock of dizziness. There wasn't much large-scale warfare during the Tongzhi period, and their accents—every one of them possessed the most authentic Beijing dialect—how had they ended up here!

I suddenly remembered Nyijon and the others from Zhaburang Village; weren't they also descendants of Qing soldiers? Thinking this, my heart pounded—could they be part of that group too?

"Were you sent by the Old Buddha?" I asked, forcing down the surprise welling up inside me.

Hearing this, everyone in Protector Wei Guo's group showed looks of astonishment. It seemed I was right. Jomolyangjin quietly praised my questioning from behind.