Before we could think much of it, the current swept the raft toward the beast-mouth of the cave. The natural stone bead, suspended mid-air, hung extremely low—barely half a meter above the water, perfectly blocking the path. We quickly bent down, pressing ourselves flat against the bamboo raft to slip beneath the central stone.

Just as the raft was about to drift inside, the powerful spotlight mounted on its front flashed twice, then died completely. It had probably been on continuously since the current accelerated, and the battery had simply run out of power from overuse.

I thought to myself, Damn it, the battery had to die now. The cave ahead looked terribly eerie; we couldn't afford to be careless here. We had to change the battery immediately, lest we crash into stones and capsize once inside.

I raised my fist toward Fatty and Shirley Yang behind me, making a stop gesture, signaling them to help me halt the raft at the mouth of the cave. Then, I plunged my bamboo pole into the water, using it as a brake, bringing the raft to a standstill. Thankfully, the current was slow here; otherwise, one pole alone wouldn't have been enough to support the entire raft’s weight.

Since we wouldn't be able to get any further supplies during our ensuing actions, energy sources like batteries had to be conserved as much as possible. However, these stone figures inside the cave seemed connected to the "Tomb of the Xian King," necessitating a thorough investigation for clues about the main tomb—we knew far too little about it.

I replaced the battery in the spotlight, and it flared back to life. Under the beam of its orange-yellow light, the naturally eroded stone beast-head resembled a grotesque dragon's maw. Yet, millennia of dissolution from the limestone had blurred its features, leaving no discernible trace of human modification.

Fatty patted my shoulder from behind, signaling that they had removed the balancing poles. I then pulled the front bamboo pole out of the water. The raft, following the current, drifted into the cave through the bizarre, ugly dragon-mouth.

This section of the river channel was extremely narrow but very deep, running perfectly straight for a considerable distance. After entering, we used our poles to gently tap the rock walls, slowing the raft’s speed so we could carefully observe the stone figures hanging upside down in the cavern—above and below us.

All the stone figures were suspended with their hands tied behind their backs, posed as if bound. Due to the damp, cold underground environment, their surfaces had turned grayish-brown, and their facial contours were completely blurred, as if they were coated in a layer of tàn (a type of mildew formed on rock under specific conditions, non-toxic).

By their external appearance, it was impossible to distinguish the gender of the figures. Judging only by their stature, they varied in height, some stout, others slender, and it seemed that besides full-grown adults, there were even some adolescents who hadn't fully matured. Furthermore, they lacked the standardized uniformity seen in funerary figures from the Qin and Han dynasties, which were typically soldiers or acrobats.

From the cavern ceiling hung green-stained copper chains, suspending these figures on both sides. Some chains had broken off, and several were empty, perhaps having snapped over the long years. The fallen stone figures lay in the water, yet the remaining ones hung like hanged ghosts less than a foot above the surface. Encountering them suddenly in this pitch-black, gloomy cave was enough to chill anyone.

Shirley Yang called for us to stop the raft from the rear. Near the edge of the waterway lay a stone figure that had fallen from its copper chain. Shirley Yang pointed to it and said, "Although their features are blurred, the contours of their hair and clothing suggest they resemble Han Dynasty styles. Something feels wrong here; I'm going down to take a look." Saying this, she adjusted the headlamp on her climbing helmet to focus the beam more tightly, then jumped off the raft and crouched down to examine the fallen figure on the ground.

I warned her, "Wear gloves, Yang. Be careful of bacteria; if you get infected, even ten thousand CPRs won't save you."

Shirley Yang waved me off, telling me and Fatty not to distract her. She seemed to have found something on the figure. She immediately donned a pair of rubber gloves, used her paratrooper knife to scrape lightly at the figure’s surface twice, then turned the knife over, held it up to examine the residue, sniffed it gently, and told us, "This mannequin doesn't seem to be made of stone."

Fatty wondered aloud, "Not stone? Then maybe they were molded from clay?"

I recalled the scene by the Lancang River road. Sitting on the raft, I said to Shirley Yang, "Could these have been made from living people? Cut a piece open with your knife and see what’s inside the figure. The human skin map clearly recorded several burial pits near the Xian King's tomb, but it didn't mark their exact locations. Maybe this Dragon-Mouth Cave is one of them."

Shirley Yang used the paratrooper knife to slice off a small piece from the figure’s leg. It was just as we had seen on the road: the outer skin of the figure was tough, but it was only a thin shell. Inside, it was filled entirely with rotting maggots. Seeing the desiccated grubs, Shirley Yang couldn't help but frown. She then jabbed two holes into the figure’s chest with the knife; it was the same inside—packed full of dead maggots and insect eggs.

Shirley Yang turned to Fatty and me and said, "It seems this isn't a burial pit either. But I can confirm these figures were made from living humans, and they must be connected to the Xian King. This is likely the notorious, ancient, evil Xian sorcery practiced in Diannan during the King's era."

Other than the hundred-plus figures and the copper chains, the cave contained only jagged, protruding rock formations in the waterway. We found nothing else of significance, so Shirley Yang returned to the raft, and we continued to move slowly along the river channel.

As I maneuvered the raft, I asked Shirley Yang how she could tell these figures were made from living people and how she was so sure they related to the Xian King’s Xian sorcery.

On the way to Yunnan, Shirley Yang had put in considerable effort to gather intelligence. Before leaving Beijing, she had sought out every historical document she could find, reading constantly during the journey, hoping to increase their chances of locating the Xian King's tomb. A European scholar once said that beneath every tombstone lies a long novel. And the tombs of historically significant figures often contain vast amounts of contemporary historical information. A King's tomb is generally a concentrated synthesis of the era's economy, culture, and religion. For the most outstanding tomb robbers in history, knowledge of antiquity was an absolute requirement.

There have been many "Xian Kings" throughout Chinese history, but not all from the same period. Apart from the Xian King of the Dian Kingdom, the others were not in Yunnan. Even the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom designated a Xian King after establishing their capital in Tianjing. The title of Xian King also appeared during the Warring States period and the Five Dynasties era, just as the title of Zhongshan appeared in history as both a national name and a royal title. Those Xian Kings merely adopted the meaning of the character "Xian" (offering/tribute) and had no actual connection to one another.

The Xian King we were targeting was a sorcerer-king from the ancient Dian period. His "Xian sorcery" used the spirits of the dead as a medium, and the greater the number of wronged spirits, the greater the power of the sorcery. The process and methods for turning the dead into Xian were numerous. The bizarre manner of death and the degree of tàn transformation seen on these living figures in the cave matched the Xian King's known techniques, suggesting this was an ancient, secret site where "Xian sorcery" was practiced.

Shirley Yang judged that this river channel cutting through the mountain was likely dug during the construction of the King's mausoleum. They utilized a naturally formed dissolution cave and modified it with manual labor to clear the waterway, making it the most suitable shortcut for transporting materials needed for the royal tomb's construction via water.

The deceased, fashioned into figures in this cave, were very likely the slaves and artisans who built the mausoleum. To safeguard the secret of the "Tomb of the Xian King," after the construction was complete or after the "Xian King" was entombed, his loyal subordinates, following the "Xian sorcery," tightly bound their bodies, forced them to swallow a "Xian lure," sealed the seven orifices, and then hung them alive in the cave with heavy chains until they suffocated. This served two purposes: to keep the secrets of the royal tomb, and to use these preserved forms to frighten away any outsiders who might stray into this secret waterway.

The so-called "Xian lure" was a necessary pill for practicing a specific type of "Xian sorcery." Once swallowed by a living person, it would parasitize the body and lay eggs. In about three to five days, the eggs would multiply until the person's flesh and internal organs became nourishment for the larvae, filling the body cavity. Because the body lost moisture rapidly, the skin would quickly dry and harden like tree bark or stone shell. Once the larvae inside the formed human shell absorbed all the body's fluids and marrow, a vacuum environment would be created. Without air, the eggs would not hatch into larvae but would remain in a state of hibernation. In a cool environment, they could last for over a thousand years. Thus, even today, cutting open the skin might immediately reveal countless living "Xian lure" larvae resembling fat grubs, though depending on the preservation, the contents might also be entirely desiccated eggs.

Since "Xian sorcery" is infrequently documented in classical texts, including unofficial histories, Shirley Yang had only managed to uncover this much information in the past few days. As for the purpose of turning living people into insect pupae, or what use the grub-like creatures inside the skin served, all of that remained unknown.

Not only were there numerous figures in Mount Zhelong, but there were likely several other sites in the surrounding mountains. The figure we encountered on the cliff road by the riverbank had fallen onto the highway due to erosion causing the rock face to collapse. Although the Xian King only ruled a corner of the Southern Frontier, this large number of slaves transformed into grotesque figures revealed the ruthless cruelty prevalent in the Western Dian region under the Xian King’s rule in ancient times.

Hearing Shirley Yang's analysis, both Fatty and I felt goosebumps rise across our skin. At first, we thought they were just clay statues like the Terracotta Army, but they turned out to be real people. We couldn't help but glance back, but the hanged-ghost-like figures had already vanished into the pitch-black darkness behind us.

The more I thought about it, the more barbaric it seemed, and I couldn't help but curse, "Damn these ancient kings; they truly didn't value human life. In the eyes of the nobility, those slaves weren't even as valuable as cattle or horses." Turning to Fatty, I said, "With a physique like yours, if you had been a slave back then, you certainly would have made a fine sacrifice, one counting for three."

Fatty, tinkering with the dead spotlight on his helmet in the middle of the raft, gave it a couple of smacks, and it finally flickered back to life. Responding to me, he retorted, "Get lost, Old Hu. That statement completely exposes your ignorance. As far as I know, in ancient times, people considered it an honor to be chosen as a sacrifice or offering—a supreme privilege. The selection process for sacrifices was extremely strict, scrutinizing three generations of ancestry. Anyone with the slightest political blemish wouldn't qualify. Many people wrote blood oaths begging for the honor and couldn't get in line. Someone like you, pretending to be enthusiastic, would have been hopping up and down shouting, 'Sacrifice me to heaven! I'm perfect for lighting the sky beacon! Tell the folks back home to wait for my good news! For victory, light the lamp with me...'"

I became furious—that bastard Fatty had such a foul mouth: "I don't have as much lard on me as you do! How could I be suitable for lighting a sky beacon? You..."

Shirley Yang interrupted our spat: "Are you two ever going to stop? How did you devolve into bickering again? Did either of you notice anything unusual? This waterway doesn't match the description given by the proprietress of the Rainbow Inn at all..."

Fatty argued, "The proprietress never came in here herself, did she? She only heard it from the quarry workers, so there are bound to be some discrepancies. We don't need to be so jumpy."

I told Shirley Yang and Fatty, "It might not be that the proprietress was mistaken. The section of the river we passed earlier had a very fast current, possibly due to the heavy rain these past few days. That section was very wide; perhaps it connected two different channels. We were too focused on balancing the raft, and the spotlight's angle of illumination was narrow, limiting our vision. It’s possible we entered a fork."

Fatty panicked, "That's trouble. We should turn back and find the way we came. I don't want to end up like we did in the spider den, stuck in a maze we can't escape. We don't have much dry food left."

I told Fatty, "If it’s just a fork in the river, we don't need to worry. All this water flows in one direction and will eventually pass through Mount Zhelong and empty into the ravine of the Serpent River, so getting lost is definitely not an issue. Besides, this channel is very straight—clearly man-made, just as Shirley Yang suggested. It was likely the transport route used when building the King's tomb. Going down this path is definitely the right move."

Shirley Yang added, "Old Hu is right. In ancient times, building large mausoleums always involved using rivers to transport stone. When the craftsmen were working on Qin Shi Huang's tomb, they would sing, 'Fetch stone from the mouth of Quanshui, where the Wei River does not flow.' From these two short lines, one can imagine the sheer scale of the First Emperor's project—they actually dammed the Wei River just for transportation."

Fatty scoffed, "We saw the Wei River when we went to Shaanxi last time. Compared to that massive river, this place is at best a sewer. That Xian King is probably a pauper compared to Qin Shi Huang. Going after his meager wealth is actually doing him a favor... Ow... What was that?"

The raft, slowly drifting downstream, suddenly lurched violently as if snagged on something in the river. It quickly stabilized, but then a heavy, rusty grinding sound, like thick metal being dragged, echoed up from the water. A simultaneous feeling of ominous dread struck all three of us: Uh oh, the raft must have hit a hidden mechanism or trap in the riverbed.