Guo Jing continued translating: "Andre says he needs to take this material back for careful study. He promises you he will absolutely not leak any of its contents to anyone, and he will compile all his findings in Chinese and send them to you. He asks for some time."

I glanced at the documents piled on the desk—at least fifty or sixty sheets, filled with complex diagrams, formulas, and thousands of words in Russian. It was indeed unlikely to expect Andre to produce any results on the spot.

So, I pulled out the even thicker file from my backpack, waved it in front of him, and said, "Mr. Andre, what you have is only a small portion. While I don't intend to doubt you, don't let a small gain lead to a great loss."

Hearing Guo Jing's translation, Andre threw his head back and laughed heartily. "They say the Japanese are the shrewdest people in the world, but I think that hat is about to be worn by the Chinese."

I smiled. "Those little Japs are nothing. Don't translate this sentence."

Guo Jing covered her mouth, stifling a laugh.

Next, Andre and I set a time, promising to return to Chengdu a week later to meet here again.

After seeing Andre and Guo Jing off, I flagged down a street vendor for a bowl of zajiangmian to finish my lunch, then hailed a cab back home.

As soon as I walked into the ground-floor living room, I heard a familiar voice say, "You look absolutely radiant; did something good happen?"

I looked up and saw it was my Second Aunt, whom I hadn't seen in ages.

My cousin and Second Aunt were sitting on the living room sofa, examining that bronze disk.

Second Aunt has always doted on me since I was little, so I offered a slight smile, not holding back, and asked, "Well, what have you found?"

Second Aunt pointed to the bronze disk on the table and said, "This isn't Gu sorcery; this is Wu shamanism."

I was slightly surprised. I moved closer to her and saw that Second Aunt had already managed to chip a piece off the disk, revealing the dead Ku Rong worm inside.

"What do you mean? What exactly is Wu shamanism?" I asked.

Second Aunt explained, "Our Miao territory's Gu sorcery, from ancient times to the present, has only had two main branches: the Gu doctors who heal people, and the insect-based Chong Gu specifically used to harm others. But this technique—the kind that specializes in controlling wild beasts, commanding corpses, and even making vegetation rise like an army—that can only be achieved through Wu shamanism."

Before I could interject, she continued, "Many people nowadays refer to Gu sorcery as Wugu because shamanism and Gu sorcery are quite similar in many aspects—for instance, both utilize poisonous insects and special medicinals as mediums to achieve supernatural abilities. However, Wu shamanism and Gu sorcery are fundamentally different things. Wu shamanism is what northern nomadic peoples believe in, while Gu sorcery is more often seen deep in the southern mountains and forests."

I nodded, recalling the straw figures, the Ku Rong King, and the moth powder that confused our minds. All of these centered on manipulating people or animals, which certainly fit the characteristics of Wu shamanism.

Ever since learning that everything that happened in the Lop Nur underground cavern was a sham, she and I quickly deduced that the culprit was that girl in white.

Although she saved her and Da Xiong’s lives, her guidance leading us to use the Enlightenment Pearl and my blood to stop Grandpa was precisely what caused the consequences we face today.

Because the girl in white looked so much like my cousin, I initially assumed she must have been using Gu sorcery. But now, hearing what Second Aunt said, I realized this girl was likely a successor of Wu shamanism.

This meant the girl in white most likely came from the North, because, as Second Aunt explained, a small number of Wu religious practitioners still remain in China's northern regions.

As I pondered this, Second Aunt spoke again. "In reality, although some ethnic minorities in Northern China still adhere to Wu religion, the orthodox Wu shamanism has long since vanished within China’s borders. Even if there are a few scattered masters, they are unwilling to show themselves."

Hearing this, I asked, "Does that mean Wu shamanism is actually lost?"

Second Aunt shook her head. "Certainly not. As far as I know, when the Yuan Dynasty fell, Zhu Yuanzhang's armies drove the Mongols back north on a massive scale. It was around that time that many Wu sorcery experts migrated out of China in large numbers. A significant portion of them are now scattered in Outer Mongolia, or even the Siberian region."

After a moment of thought, she added, "Especially the Yakuts. They are descendants of the ancient Yaya-Kut people from tens of thousands of years ago. Legend has it that Wu shamanism originated with their tribe, and this ancient group still lives in some regions of Siberia today."

Upon hearing this, I thought, It’s over. What Second Aunt was describing had a striking coincidence with what Professor Andre had said earlier.

Their targets all pointed to one place: Siberia.

This sparked a strong, uneasy premonition in me that I would very likely have to make a trip to Siberia.

But then I thought again: for a girl with a distinctly Chinese face who spoke fluent Mandarin to be Russian seemed a bit far-fetched.

I organized the chaotic thoughts swirling in my head and decided to stop dwelling on it.

Instead, I asked Second Aunt, "Then, how does this Wu shamanism control the straw figures, and how does that moth powder generate illusions? Can you tell?"

Second Aunt shook her head. "The arts of different professions are as distinct as mountains and rivers. The subtleties of Wu shamanism are no less profound than Gu sorcery, and perhaps even older. It is difficult for us outsiders to glimpse its secrets."

I thought, Oh well. At least this information was enough; I no longer felt that my cousin was acting strangely.

Thanking Second Aunt, I went upstairs alone, closed the door, and started searching the internet for materials on Wu shamanism.

However, the information online was pitifully scarce; I couldn't find anything of value.

There was one story, though, stating that Genghis Khan's armies were fierce and often won battles with inferior numbers. This was attributed not only to the grassland warriors' superb archery and horsemanship but also heavily to Wu shamanism.

Legend holds that Genghis Khan had the Ten Shamans under his command—ten masters of Wu—each possessing the ability to bring the dead back to life.

Genghis Khan rarely took prisoners; any army defeated by him was largely executed.

This wasn't due to his cruelty, but because the Ten Shamans could utilize the fallen armies, summoning legions of the dead.

I once read in an unofficial history that the Han armies, when fighting Genghis Khan, encountered an army that could not be killed. That army leveled a city without a single casualty.

It seemed these two stories, connected, perfectly illustrated that Genghis Khan could indeed command corpses to fight for him.

It is widely known that Genghis Khan roared—and no one has ever found his tomb.

The story goes that the King of Hell was a good friend of Genghis Khan. Not only did he lend him troops, but after Genghis Khan died, the King of Hell sent men to build his tomb in the netherworld, which is why it can never be found.

While this tale sounds quite far-fetched, after witnessing the undying firsthand, I had to re-examine the existence of Wu shamanism.

Recalling the murals in the Lop Nur cavern, the girl in white appeared in those paintings, meaning she was once a member of the Wei Kingdom.

So, was the Wei Kingdom the creator of Wu shamanism? Did they have some connection to the ancestors of the Siberians, the Yaya-Kut people?

These were harder to speculate upon.

I figured that the number of indigenous Siberian people today is extremely small; they live in the bitterly cold wilderness with minimal contact with the outside world. To uncover these mysteries, I would have to travel to Siberia myself, to see the Yaya-Kut people and the ruins beneath the craton.

Thinking this, I shook my head and muttered to myself, "I explicitly promised myself I wouldn't take risks again, and now I’m daydreaming foolishly. Damn it."

I scolded myself, pulled the covers over my head, and tried to sleep, too lazy to even undress.

But as soon as I lay down, replaying the day's events, I felt something was off.

After thinking it over, I suddenly remembered: the trip to Jiaotong University that day seemed to have no instances of missing time.

Yet, after separating from Professor Andre and going to the noodle shop, the phenomenon of eating the noodles and then being back at the start occurred again.

This meant that during those few hours I spent with Professor Andre, the time distortion seemed to have been stopped!

Could it be that Andre or Guo Jing possessed an ability to halt the time distortion?

I thought about it again, but it seemed unlikely; perhaps it was just a pause, a coincidence?

I drifted off to sleep while lost in my restless thoughts.

When I woke up the next morning, it was already 10:30 AM.

I rubbed my hair, threw the covers aside, and got up, moving to the computer desk. Looking out at the bright sunshine, on a two-story villa closest to our courtyard, a beautiful woman was again on the rooftop airing out her bedding.

I usually watched this woman when I was bored.

She was definitely a kept mistress, because I had seen her lover—the owner of a nearby distillery and also a People’s Representative. That man had some acquaintance with my Second Uncle and had been married for over a decade.

The life of a mistress is always filled with various forms of bitterness. I once considered writing a niche romance novel based on prolonged observation, specifically exposing the lives of mistresses.

But I later realized that was too tedious and abandoned the idea.

I know my own character; if I started observing this woman again, it would mean I was bored to the extreme. I couldn't let myself remain that bored—it would either drive me insane or lead me to fall for the mistress and develop a forbidden affair.

So, I tidied myself up and left the house.

I actually got into a taxi with no destination in mind, but fate arranged for me to go to Southwest Jiaotong University once again.