Qin Dazhong’s expression was complicated as he walked over and bowed slightly to Yangjin, as if fearful of disturbing the corpses filling the room. He spoke in a low voice, “There is another person here, strangely dressed, who arrived on their own some time ago. We don't know if they are one of the King’s subjects. Would you please come and see?”

Old Li stepped forward and helped Tang Minghao to his feet.

No one spoke; they silently followed Qin Dazhong back the way they came, toward the hall where they had eaten.

It was only then that I fully registered what I was seeing: those desiccated bodies, stacked floor to ceiling—hadn't I seen something like that before, in the ruins of the Guge kingdom back in Zhabujian village? The mummified cave that Niyong had taken us to, the one where the walls were painted with a kingly figure, holding aloft something resembling the Golden Eye and Silver Pearl, leading a procession into the darkness.

That painting—it must have held some kind of instruction.

But before I could dwell on it, Qin Dazhong led us into another small room, where we saw someone I would never have believed even if I’d been beaten to death! A person—about 1.75 meters tall—standing there motionless, clad in tattered camouflage fatigues. And their face! No, there was no face!

Faceless!!

I cried out, stumbling backward in fright, “Faceless! Let’s go! He bites!” The King of the Faceless, Wei Cheng, on Qiangba Keshang mountain had left too deep a scar on my psyche!

Trembling, I pulled Yangjin toward the exit.

Everyone except Qin Dazhong, even the unflappable Baishiqi who could face a mountain collapsing without changing expression, looked utterly horrified and retreated with me.

Once we were out the door, Qin Dazhong calmly shut it, locking the Faceless one inside.

“He won’t move,” Qin Dazhong said evenly, trying to calm us. “Don’t be afraid.” He continued, “Somehow, he stumbled upon us. Since arriving, he hasn't eaten, drunk, or spoken. Then, he slowly devolved into this state—all facial features vanished. Afterward, he had no heartbeat, yet his body refused to decompose. I suspect he was poisoned by something bizarre. But I am ignorant, and I haven't the slightest clue.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. Didn't we have a deserter who disappeared on Qiangba Keshang mountain? Could this be him?

I couldn't help but look at Old Li. He was looking back at me, his face etched with terror. He must have thought of the same thing. Baishiqi knew our history better than anyone, so Old Li and I both turned to him simultaneously. His expression was grave. “His height and build are very similar to one of Section Chief Wang’s deserters. He vanished on Qiangba Keshang mountain; I suspect it is him.”

Since the all-knowing Baishiqi confirmed it, it must undoubtedly be that deserter who had caused us to go to Qiangba Keshang mountain and dragged me into this baffling predicament!

But, “How is he here?” I asked, my voice catching.

Perhaps no one could answer that question.

“He carries the scent of the Crystal Black Scorpion within him.” As the others remained silent, the 'him' inside my head let out a silent, desolate laugh. I looked at Tang Minghao and asked, “You didn’t smell it?”

Tang Minghao shook his head, his expression equally desolate. “I am merely a small serf; how would I know about the Crystal Black Scorpion!”

I sighed. “I’ve only heard of it. Apparently, it possesses miraculous properties. Perhaps only Wang knows exactly what those properties are.”

Having said that, I looked at Zhuoma Yangjin, waiting for her answer about 'him.'

Zhuoma Yangjin looked stunned, on the verge of tears. After a long moment, she sighed sadly. “Let’s go. I understand everything now. General Qin, thank you.”

Qin Dazhong looked bewildered. “Thank me?”

Yangjin nodded. “Yes. I know my mission now. Thank you. I must return immediately to attend to certain matters. To show my gratitude, I sincerely invite you and every man in your contingent to reside in my palace for an extended stay.”

I was bewildered, not understanding what Zhuoma Yangjin was saying. Qin Dazhong was equally confused. “Your Majesty, forgive my dullness. The mission you speak of is—?”

Zhuoma Yangjin replied, “You previously said, ‘If it cannot be obtained, it cannot be guarded.’ What you sought is what I am meant to protect. That is my mission.”

Qin Dazhong’s face darkened, and he remained silent for a long time.

Baishiqi started to ask more questions, but Yangjin glared at him fiercely, and he immediately stepped back, falling silent.

The 'him' in my mind felt utterly heartbroken, stripped of all power to control me. Looking at Tang Minghao, his expression was uncertain, his features complex; perhaps the 'him' inside his body was undergoing the same internal conflict as I was.

...

Qin Dazhong stopped speaking and ordered someone to show us to our quarters.

The answer that had been lingering in my mind seemed ready to surface immediately. Therefore, ignoring Yangjin and the others, I went off alone to sort through everything I had gathered.

The truth of the matter was slowly becoming clear: Qiangba Keshang mountain, the Guge ruins, Fuxian Lake, and this place—everything was connected to Yangjin’s nation. The strange people and things we had encountered were all experimental subjects used by their King to achieve some hidden objective. Everything we saw, including the Faceless one, the snakes, the reanimated zombies, and the layered corpses beneath Fuxian Lake, were all test subjects. All of it was mutated experimentation.

This research was divided into two parts: one studying the physical body, and the other preserving the continuity of consciousness.

But what was the ultimate goal of such research? Immortality?

Thinking of this, I couldn't help but curse my own naïveté. What era was this? What education had I received, to arrive at such an absurd conclusion?

At that moment, Yangjin sat down beside me and asked softly, “What are you thinking about?”

I told her my recent thoughts, concluding, “Do you believe in eternal life? I find the conclusion I reached laughable myself.”

“It’s not laughable. After all these events, I firmly believe that my ancestors ascended to another world with tens of thousands of their subjects—Shambhala, as Guru Rinpoche described it—where they achieved eternal life. I remained in the mortal realm to guard them, to protect the entrance to their world from being found by outsiders.

The Imperial Court has always suspected that secrets of immortality exist in Tibet, which is why Empress Dowager Cixi sent Shengtai and a contingent of Qing troops to investigate secretly within the Guge sphere of influence. But… even I don’t know how the former King managed to grant eternal life to all his subjects. How could a mere official from the capital, an outsider, possibly know!

And then there were those overambitious Germans and Japanese, who, under the guise of archaeology, actually sought to find the entrance to Shambhala and locate a second Golden Eye and Silver Pearl, hoping to use them to open the gate to that realm. Them? Impossible!

...

Luo Lian, now that I have told you this, I must return to where I belong. Perhaps I will continue searching for the entrance to Shambhala, or perhaps I will prevent anyone else from approaching it. I am the King of Guge; I am responsible for all my subjects. And you… you are an outsider… ah… in short, we will never meet again in this lifetime. Will… will you miss me?”

My heart ached terribly, repeating only one phrase in my mind: ‘Never again in this lifetime... never again in this lifetime…’ In that instant, my heart felt sliced apart. Looking at Zhuoma Yangjin—her eyebrows, her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her hair—I would never see them again.

“Luo Lian, don’t be sad,” Yangjin murmured, gently stroking my face, gazing at me with devotion. “Don’t be sad. This is fate. You mustn’t be sad… That you could be here like this… I am already so happy.”

I could hold back no longer; I pulled her into a fierce embrace, tears streaming down my face.

Zhuoma Yangjin nestled into my arms, her face like a rain-soaked pear blossom, sorrowful. “Why must I be the King of Guge, and why must you be an outsider!”

My heart ached almost to suffocation; I could only hold her tighter. I was finally about to lose Yangjin. When she was good to me, I loved someone else. When I realized how good she was, she loved me. When I loved her, she was destined to part from me forever.

Perhaps I committed too many sins in a past life, for I must suffer this torment in this one.

... ...

After a brief recovery period, we bid farewell to Qin Dazhong and returned to Linzhi.

Yangjin took Wangmu and went to the place she belonged. Baishiqi absolutely forbade Tang Minghao from returning to Yunnan, stating that he wanted to take both of us back for research. “The things inside your minds are the key to immortality. I need to study them thoroughly,” were his exact words.

Old Li could no longer return to the Gangba camp, because on the second day after our return to Linzhi, a dust-covered Tibetan girl named Bianzhen appeared at our door.

“I ran away; the High Priest cannot tolerate me any longer. Take me with you, Li Zeng.” That was the first thing she said upon seeing us.

Old Li won the beauty; Baishiqi and the others gained much. Regardless of the suffering endured, they all found their fulfillment.

But I, I was still alone, still the solitary Luo Lian. After circling around, everything had returned to the starting point.

...

On the eve of leaving Linzhi, in a hazy state, it seemed someone entered my room. A man with the appearance of a frail scholar, about thirty-five or thirty-six, walked over and sat by my bedside, asking, “Luo Lian, do you think immortality is happiness?” I was utterly weak, unable to even open my mouth to reply, let alone knowing how to answer him.

He sighed, laughing bitterly at himself, “You are not me; you cannot live forever without aging. How could you understand my suffering?”

I felt as though I had heard these words somewhere before, and that I had seen this person somewhere before, but my brain was a muddle, and I couldn't grasp a single clue.

“You see… you look so much like I did back then,” the man seemed to force a smile, followed by a long, deep sigh. “If you wish to see Yangjin, tell Baishiqi to look for me—Hu Bugui.”

(End of Book)