The Longling range, on a grand scale, was a branch of the Qinling Mountains; scaled down, it was merely a sprawling expanse of earthen mounds, one hillock pressed against another, with tremendous variations in elevation. The gaps between the mounds were raggedly carved by rainwater and wind, creating countless deep gullies, and in some places, the exterior was just a thin crust of earth that would shatter underfoot, revealing hollow voids beneath. While the straight-line distance between two hills might appear short, traversing that gap could easily necessitate detouring half a day.

This area was obscure, lacking even a unified official name. The people near Gutian County town referred to this stretch of hills as "Longling," yet the villagers who lived near Longling called the region "Panshepo" (Coiled Serpent Slope).

"Panshepo" certainly lacked the imposing aura of "Longling," but it described the topography more directly and vividly.

Fatty, Big Golden Tooth, and I left Gutian County town at nine in the morning. We took vehicles where the roads allowed, and when the roads ended, we drove our Type 11 vehicle, asking for directions along the way. By the time we reached "Longling," dusk was settling.

At the foot of the Longling mountains lay a small hamlet, home to perhaps twenty families. We conferred amongst ourselves: the hour was late, finding the Fishbone Temple would be difficult, and the mountain paths were treacherous—one wrong step into a gully, and we’d be done before our expedition even truly began. We decided to seek lodging in the village for the night and address matters come morning.

We approached the first house we saw near the village entrance and explained our situation to the owners. We were miles from anywhere established, unable to find lodgings, and pleaded for a place to stay for just one night, offering payment for the courtesy.

The homeowners were an elderly couple. Seeing our large packs and bundles, and the two lively white geese we brought along, they eyed us with suspicion, wondering who we might be.

Fatty quickly put on a broad, ingratiating smile. "Sir, Ma'am, we are visiting an old comrade from our service days and happened to pass through here. We missed our intended stop. As you can see, we're travelers far from home—nobody carries their house with them, right? Could you possibly do us a favor and find us a room where the three of us can manage for the night? Please take this twenty yuan." Without waiting for their consent, he pressed the money into the old couple's hands.

Seeing we weren't troublemakers, the couple graciously agreed, clearing out a room for us. It seemed untouched for years; the kang (heated brick bed) was cold, and trying to light a fire now would just fill the place with smoke until dark. I told them not to bother with the kang; a place sheltered from the wind would suffice, and then asked them to prepare some food for us.

Fatty spotted a water bucket and a shoulder pole in the courtyard. He turned to me. "Old Hu, hustle over and draw two big buckets of water."

I questioned him, "What for? Don't you have water in your canteen?"

Fatty replied, "When you PLA men stay with villagers, you always fill their water vats, right? And then you sweep the yard and fix the roof."

I snapped back, "You're full of crap, Fatty. I’m unfamiliar with this place. I don't know where the well is. In this pitch black, what if I get turned around and can't find my way back? Besides, I need to ask them about the area in a minute. Stop talking so much; keep your mouth shut as much as possible. Remember, too much talk leads to slips."

Just as we were speaking, the old couple brought in several scrambled eggs and two guokui (flatbreads) they had cooked, setting them down in the room.

I thanked them profusely, and while eating, tried to build rapport with the hosts, asking who had lived in this room previously.

To my surprise, the moment I asked, the old man and woman both began to weep. This room had belonged to their only son. Ten years ago, their son entered "Panshepo" searching for a lamb that had wandered off, and he never returned. The villagers searched for three or four days, but never found a body. They presumed he had fallen into one of the fragile earth hollows or perhaps wandered into the hidden mazes within the mountains. Their only son was gone, leaving them with no one to care for them in their old age. For years, they had barely survived, relying on the help of their neighbors.

Hearing this, Fatty and I felt a pang of sympathy and gave them more money. The old couple thanked us profusely, saying they had met truly good people.

I inquired further about "Longling." The couple insisted there were no Tang Dynasty tombs in "Panshepo"; they only recalled tales from their elders about a major tomb from the Western Zhou Dynasty. Moreover, this tomb was said to be intensely haunted; people claimed to see ghosts building walls even in broad daylight, or getting lost at the bottom of gullies. Those lucky enough to encounter another person were rescued; the unlucky ones simply perished, trapped within.

The locals called this area "Panshe" precisely because the paths were so complex and easy to get lost in. As for the "Longling Labyrinth Caves" (Longling Mikul), they referred to the interlocking network of mountain caverns—a natural maze.

As for the ruins of the Fishbone Temple, it did exist, but it had been abandoned for decades. Past the village, after rounding two ridges, there was a deep gully; the "Fishbone Temple" sat right at its head. The merchant who funded its construction years ago claimed it was a prime Feng Shui nexus, ensuring the Dragon King Temple would bring timely rain.

In the end, building the temple made no difference. Heaven sent rain when it pleased and withheld it for years; burning incense and making offerings were useless. Consequently, the temple's worship faded, and few people visited it anymore.

I explained, "We nearly had our boat capsized by the Dragon King when we were crossing the Yellow River, so we're just curious. We want to see the bones of the Iron Head Dragon King Fish at the Fishbone Temple."

The elderly couple replied that going to the Fishbone Temple was fine, but they must absolutely not venture deep into Panshepo. Even those born and raised in the village easily lost their way, let alone three outsiders.

I nodded my thanks. We had nearly finished eating, so I began helping clear the bowls and chopsticks. As I stepped into the courtyard, Big Golden Tooth suddenly whispered to me, "Master Hu, there's something valuable in this courtyard."

I glanced back. Big Golden Tooth pointed toward a large stone in the yard. "That's a stele, it has some age to it."

I didn't reply, just nodded to acknowledge I understood. After helping finish the cleanup, the old couple retired to their room. The three of us gathered in the courtyard, pretending to smoke and chat casually while stealthily examining the stone stele Big Golden Tooth had pointed out.

If not for Big Golden Tooth's sharp eyes, we would never have noticed it. The rectangular stone was severely weathered, with several deep grooves carved down its center; judging by the look of it, it might have once been used to tether livestock.

Only half the stele remained; the top featured a broken piece of an animal head sculpture. All inscriptions and carvings had long worn away; without that half-beast head, one might not even recognize it as a stele.

Fatty asked Big Golden Tooth, "Is this the valuable thing you mentioned? I think it might have been worth something once, but like this, it’s just a big rock. Look how worn down the carvings are; how many years has it taken for that?"

Big Golden Tooth took a drag from his cigarette. "Fatty, I'm not saying this stele is valuable now. This remnant is certainly worthless; only half a beast head remains. It probably doesn't even hold research value anymore—a bit of a shame. But don't forget, my ancestors were tomb raiders. I’m not saying this is a good thing for no reason. Based solely on that half-beast head on this broken stele, I dare swear there must be a Tang Dynasty tomb in this Longling. As for the exact location? That will depend on Master Hu's skills tomorrow."

I reached out and touched the beast head on the stele. I said to Big Golden Tooth, "You think this is a tomb marker?"

Big Golden Tooth replied, "Let's call it that. Even though the head is broken, I can still make out that this beast is called a Lè Lí. In the prosperous Tang Dynasty, they built tombs deep in the mountains, taking the mountains as the mausoleum itself, but on the surface, there were corresponding structures—stone camels, stone Suanni—symbolizing the guard around the imperial resting place. The Lè Lí is a benevolent beast that perches specifically on stone steles. Legend says it’s a spirit beast from the Western Heavens whose voice is as melodious as heavenly music. By this deduction, the inscription on this stele should be one of praise and virtue. Eighteen li before the mausoleum entrance, a pair stood every li. The Lè Lí marks the second pair of steles."

I said, "Master Jin, though you claim ignorance of Feng Shui, your knowledge of ancient history and culture is far beyond my reach. Let’s not discuss this in the courtyard; let’s go inside to plan."

We returned to the room to continue our planning. We were now at the edge of Longling. Based on the current clues, the presence of an ancient tomb here was certain. However, whether it was the Great Tang or the Western Zhou caused a slight contradiction.

If the stele was accurate, it was unquestionably a major Tang tomb, consistent with what Old Man Liu told us at the Gutian County guesthouse. But why did the local villagers claim the mountain held a Western Zhou tomb?

Big Golden Tooth asked me, "Do you think it's possible for a single Feng Shui dragon vein to host multiple resting sites?"

I replied, "That is plausible. However, an entire continuous vein cannot consist only of excellent spots; the various anchor points will have hierarchies of nobility and quality. The absolute best location often suffices for only one tomb. Still, we cannot rule out the possibility that tombs from two different dynasties might covet the same nexus point."

I instructed Fatty and Big Golden Tooth to rest well tonight. Tomorrow morning, whether it was called "Longling" or "Panshepo," we would venture out and examine the area thoroughly. Furthermore, I suspected this village might harbor other undiscovered antiques; we should pay more visits to the local homes on our way back.