Coupled with what Number 2 had mentioned earlier about the 'Immortal in the Stone,' I grew even more suspicious that this statue held some kind of secret.

Especially that gooey, slimy blood oozing from beneath it—that was far from ordinary.

So, I made my way toward the grotto entrance. Number 12 must have seen it too, as he followed right behind me.

Upon reaching the edge of the cavern, I noticed the statue’s expression and posture hadn't changed at all, but its entire surface was wet, sticky.

And a strange, fishy odor permeated the air.

Of course, I quickly discerned that this wasn't the smell of mere blood, but a scent that carried a faint hint of fragrance mixed with the musk.

Staring at the statue’s unsettling expression, I swallowed hard, finally resolving to reach out a finger and touch it.

Although the others present certainly wouldn't permit me to lay a hand on the statue, thankfully, their attention was entirely focused on Number 2 at the moment.

Furthermore, I wouldn't imitate that hip-hop kid from earlier, placing his hand on the statue’s head, committing some act of disrespect or offense toward it.

I merely extended my index finger and lightly grazed the statue’s arm, then quickly retracted my hand.

When I pulled my fingertip back, the tip had darkened, and some sticky ** residue** clung to my finger.

I brought the fingertip to my nose for a sniff, then frowned slightly.

Number 12 asked tentatively, "What is that? Is it blood?"

I gave a small smile and replied, "No, this is just viscous mud—the thick slurry you find in a debris flow."

Then I pointed beneath the statue, explaining, "There must be many small holes underneath. When a debris flow happens on the mountaintop, some of the soil enters the rock layer through mountain fissures. Then, due to the immense pressure of the flow, the mud inside the rock is squeezed out through these small openings, much like toothpaste from a tube. That’s what’s causing that gurgling sound; it’s just a natural phenomenon."

I finally understood that the deity enshrined in this grotto was neither the 'Immortal in the Stone' nor some local mountain god, but a deity called the Mud God.

When I mentioned the Mud God, Number 12 paused, asking, "What exactly is the Mud God... I’ve never heard of such a deity."

I considered it for a moment, organizing my thoughts before speaking, "This requires us to start with disasters like debris flows. Throughout human history, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and plagues have caused the highest death tolls, and ranking fourth is the debris flow. Debris flows strike without warning, move incredibly fast, and can level an entire village in minutes, leaving people no chance to guard against them."

"However, our ancestors were very clever; they learned to recognize signs of impending disaster from animals. For example, when a heavy thunderstorm is approaching, swallows fly low. Before an earthquake, you see ants migrating or insects running wild, and dogs barking incessantly. Before a major fire, rats are seen scurrying on the roof beams, moving their young outside. While debris flows are hard to detect, there is one type of creature in nature that can know of an impending flow at least half an hour in advance. Can you guess what animal it is?"

Number 12 became intrigued and quickly inquired, "What animal? Could it be a gecko? I heard geckos have incredibly sensitive footpads that can detect minute vibrations."

I shook my head and said, "Not a gecko, but the Loach!"

"Loach?!" Number 12 was genuinely shocked, clearly not expecting that answer.

He then said, "I see. So that’s why it’s called the Mud God."

I nodded and explained, "Loaches usually hide in the silt of small streams or paddy fields. Although they surface to bubble when it rains, they are generally quite sluggish. But precisely because they are so intimately connected to the earth, even the slightest subterranean changes alert them. At that point, the loaches will surface in large groups, making the water in a field look like it's boiling, constantly bubbling up. When this happens, farmers know a debris flow is likely coming and quickly gather their important belongings to seek shelter on flat land or higher ground."

"Especially here in Yunnan, with so many mountains and terraced fields, loaches are abundant. Gradually, people began to revere this life-saving creature as a deity, naming it the Mud God."

Number 12 nodded thoughtfully, "No wonder these Yunnan people, even if they couldn't articulate exactly what this statue represents, show such deep respect for it—it’s a guardian deity."

I affirmed, "Where the Mud God resides, it's certain they won't be ravaged by debris flows. This grotto has existed for such an ancient time, and there are no signs of it ever being destroyed, which proves the point."

As we were speaking, the rumbling sounds around us subsided, and the rain had essentially stopped.

Debris flows are like that: they arrive quickly and leave quickly, yet they manage to claim villages and lives in an instant.

At this point, Number 2 finally became exasperated by the crowd, announcing, "Alright, alright, everyone disperse! Fortune-telling, marriage readings, all that can wait until tomorrow. This poor monk needs sleep!"

Seeing Number 2 genuinely angry, the crowd had no choice but to disperse, returning to their vehicles.

Only that hip-hop kid remained, clinging to Number 2’s leg and still sobbing.

Number 2 threw his hands up in exasperation, kicking him away slightly. "Man up! Are you finished yet? Go on!"

He then looked at us and commanded, "What are you two staring at? Help me get my cigarettes and liquor!"

We quickly rushed over, retrieved his things, and got into the car together.

After storing the items, I was about to compliment Number 2 on his uncanny foresight, but I figured his ears must be ringing with praise already, so I held my tongue.

We didn't say much else. Since we were safe, it was time to sleep so we could be well-rested for the mission the next day, especially since we had been delayed for so long already.

Listening to the distant rumble of thunder fade, the sounds of snoring began to rise and fall throughout the car.

I, too, drifted into my dreams, accompanied by those rhythmic snores.

The next morning, I was awakened by the sound of countless voices. Climbing up, I saw several yellow engineering vehicles parked beside our car—it seemed the repair crew had arrived.

The emergency crew informed us that although the road surface was severely damaged, the next two kilometers were still barely passable. If we still intended to reach Yuanmou, we just needed to traverse this dangerous stretch and we would reach a fork in the road that also led to Yuanmou. It was a detour, but we could still arrive that afternoon.

Naturally, we wanted to continue toward Yuanmou, as several people in our group had urgent matters there.

So, with the bulldozers clearing the path, we slowly navigated that perilous section and reached the alternate road.

Along the way, we weren't bored at all, as many people stopped to ask Number 2 for readings or relationship advice.

And Number 2 was quite the extortionist with his fees; a reading cost one hundred yuan, yet people kept lining up relentlessly.

There was nothing to be done about it, given how accurate his predictions were.

Later, when I questioned him about it, he told me he never used his precognitive ability during those public readings, even scolding me: "Do you think foresight is like tap water, something you can use whenever you want? It shortens your lifespan; it demands a spiritual and soulful toll!"

I was left speechless by his words and could only silently curse him as a charlatan.

We arrived in Yuanmou at eight in the evening. We had expected to rest after a full day in the car, but upon arrival, Number 2 immediately went to the county post office to retrieve his wicker basket. Then he urged us on, saying the new mission objective was ready: we needed to meet Farmer Old Man Li in a small village north of Yuanmou County.

Fortunately, the village wasn't too far; we chartered a small minivan and arrived in about two hours.

Despite being close to the county seat, this location was quite remote.

At ten in the evening, we saw this small village, encircled by numerous earth pillars, with only a hundred or so households and two intersecting roads.

The village outskirts were ringed by a grove of trees, and beyond the grove, sporadic clusters of earth pillars stood scattered about.

These so-called 'Earth Forests' (Tulin) are formations of columnar protrusions, much like miniature mountain ranges, generally composed of earth. When viewed from afar in large numbers, they resemble a forest, hence the name. This terrain typically forms in hot, dry climates where the soil becomes excessively parched; once a torrential rain strikes, the resulting runoff cuts into the ground over long periods, eroding it layer by layer, resulting in these pillar-like protrusions, usually standing 20 to 40 meters high.

The Earth Forest formations exist in a few places in the Southwest, but Yuanmou’s are considered the finest—their shapes are peculiar, their colors rich, and under the sun, they exude an ancient, rugged grandeur.

Returning to the matter at hand, this village, nestled among sparse clusters of earth pillars, felt imbued with some peculiar Feng Shui arrangement, otherwise it wouldn't have been built in such a singular formation.

We followed the dirt road through the fruit grove and saw only a few scattered lights shining in the village, suggesting many families had already retired for the night.

Before us lay an old street paved with flagstones, lined on both sides with houses and many storefronts.

It seemed the place wasn't as backward as we had imagined; storefronts meant commerce, likely benefiting from the tourism generated by the Earth Forest scenic area.

However, looking at the earth pillars right next to the village, they seemed to offer little scenic value. Perhaps the tourists who shopped here were mainly those seeking an 'authentic ancient village culture' experience?

In reality, having arrived here by minivan without having eaten dinner, we were starving.

At this moment, on the section of the old street with storefronts, one restaurant called "Yuanmou Local Cuisine" still had its lights on.

The interior décor, though unremarkable, appeared tidy, so we walked in and took a seat.

A moment later, a stout man with a bushy beard emerged, smiling broadly, asking if we wanted to see a menu.

I shook my head and said, "No need. Just whip up a couple of meat dishes, and make it quick."

But Number 12 stated, "Since we are here, we must sample the very best thing this place offers. Boss, what is your most famous specialty?"

The owner frowned, answering with rustic honesty, "Our most famous item here is the Yuanmou 'Native Man.'"

Number 12, assuming it was a dish name, replied, "What a strange name. Never mind that, just bring me one!"