Upon the highest point of the relief carving on the Tomb-Quelling Manual rested a magnificent, golden palace. Towers for the moon, corner turrets, inner city walls, the buried stele, the watchtowers, the divine wall, the stele pavilion, the offering hall, and the spirit platform—all architectural features were present, with the mountains and rivers behind them rendered as distant scenery. Beneath the palace, there were no foundations of earth or stone, but rather streams of rosy, iridescent light, traversing the mist as if floating in the sky, encircled by protective, coiling dragons, displaying the style of an ethereal, immortal abode.

Below this, the carving depicted the divine road leading down from the Xuan Palace. Mountains flanked the divine road on either side, their towering peaks conveying an aura of chilling solemnity and grandeur, which served only to make the aerial palace above appear even more majestic. This divine road was likely the very creek known as Bug Valley.

Fatty looked at it and laughed, "That old ancestor King Xian must have been insane to wish for immortality; he built his tomb like the Heavenly Palace of the Jade Emperor, even constructing buildings in the sky! He might as well have just buried himself on the moon."

Shirley Yang said, "No one knows the details of the King Xian tomb's interior now; all clues suggest the tomb lies within the Water Dragon Halo. Even if that Water Dragon Halo is miraculous, I refuse to believe there exists a place that defies the laws of physics. This carving on the back of the Tomb-Quelling Manual must have been artistically embellished, or it points to something else entirely."

I said to Shirley Yang and Fatty, "The so-called Water Dragon merely refers to a waterfall with a large flow; the 'halo' is the rainbow created by rising water vapor, formless and intangible, which is why the ancients regarded it as a bridge for immortals. It’s impossible to build structures upon it. The palace carving we see probably isn't the actual King's Tomb, but the Ming Lou—the ground-level sacrificial structure for the tomb. Following the Qin and Han system, the subterranean palace of the King's Tomb should be situated at least ten zhang below this Ming Lou; this tradition was maintained right up until the late Qing dynasty."

Shirley Yang asked me, "If it’s the sacrificial structure, the Ming Lou, that implies that after King Xian died, people would enter the Ming Lou at specific intervals to perform rites of worship. However, the records on the human-skin map indicate that the area around the King's Tomb is perpetually shrouded in toxic miasma, making it inaccessible to outsiders. So, how did those who worshipped King Xian get inside? Is there perhaps a secret passage that pierces through the poisonous fog?"

There are only two reasons for the miasma to generate in the valley. One is due to the topography and terrain; in deep mountains and secluded valleys where air circulation is poor, the moisture generated by dense vegetation accumulates excessively. When mixed with the decaying corpses of various animals that died within, it creates toxic miasma.

The other possibility is that the miasma was artificially created after the King's Tomb was completed and King Xian was interred. They would have utilized the low-lying terrain of Bug Valley, planting specific, inherently poisonous vegetation in the deepest, stillest areas. This would form a protective barrier guarding the King's Tomb. However, it might not necessarily involve planting toxic flora. It’s rumored that the depths of Bug Valley have poor ventilation, and by the Qin and Han periods, the technology to refine mercury from cinnabar (sulfide of mercury) was already quite mature. It’s possible they placed large amounts of mercury nearby; over time, the volatilized mercury formed toxic substances in the air. Yet, this possibility is slim. Even with poor air circulation in the valley, it’s still an open space unless the craftsmen who built King Xian's Tomb devised another method.

The three of us discussed it, then took out the blind man's human-skin map to compare. We found that the map was missing something present on the Tomb-Quelling Manual. The stone carving on the back of the Manual showed a strange, grotesquely shaped toad—composed of the character "" above ""—with its mouth wide open, etched at one spot in the creek valley. Near where the King Xian Tomb was indicated, there was a symmetrical toad—composed of the radical "" next to ""—also with its mouth agape.

On the human-skin map, however, there was only the toad in the creek valley, and its mouth was closed. Whoever drew the map for King Dian clearly had no knowledge of the conditions beyond the miasma; they only roughly marked some external features. It was obvious that the internal workings of King Xian’s Tomb were absolute secrets, not privy to everyone.

This tiny difference would be hard to notice if one weren't looking closely. This is because both the Tomb-Quelling Manual and the human-skin map featured numerous exotic birds and strange beasts, many of which might not actually exist near the King Xian Tomb, some being mere symbolic depictions. This related to the ancient people's worldview, much like how some ancient maps used dragons to represent rivers or a spiritual tortoise to signify magnificent peaks.

However, this toad was unremarkable; describing it as simply a toad felt inaccurate. Although its shape was similar, its posture was definitely not that of a typical toad. Its countenance was utterly repulsive, with a bulging abdomen, resting on its hind legs while holding its forelimbs up before its chest as if pushing open a door. Its head was raised high, eyes wide open as if it died with regret, nostrils flared skyward, and its monstrous mouth was disproportionately large compared to its body.

I pointed to the toad on the Tomb-Quelling Manual and said, "These two toads, one inside and one outside, are perfectly symmetrical. This is the only symmetrical feature in the entire map's depiction of the valley within a valley. It’s highly likely this marks the passage that allowed access through the poisonous miasma during sacrifices. The toad's bizarre mouth must be the main entrance. The human-skin map only marks one because the mapmaker didn't know the internal layout. As long as we find this spot in Bug Valley, we can enter the deeper King Xian Tomb."

Shirley Yang agreed with my assessment, while Fatty hadn't understood a word and simply followed along with the mood. We confirmed the details on the drawing several more times. As long as we could find that creek valley, we were confident we could locate this toad, which likely concealed a secret passage. Whether it was a stone statue or something else, we would know once we reached the location.

We dismounted from Jiao Tu, looking back at the scene around us—a complete mess: two fallen giant trees, the shattered jade coffin, the wreckage of the C-type transport plane, and the giant Diaogu (great vulture) shot into tatters by the "Chicago Typewriter," but most numerous were the countless skeletal remains within the tree trunks.

Fatty kicked at the Diaogu corpse on the ground: "It’s broken, otherwise we could pluck its feathers and roast it for lunch today."

I told him, "Forget the dead bird for now. Go check the wreckage of the plane cabin again; see if there are any usable firearms or ammunition left, and collect it all. We'll take some when we set off; there are too many wild beasts in this forest, and we might not manage with too few bullets."

The C-type transport wreckage had fallen from the trees and was completely scattered. Fatty rummaged through the damaged aluminum hull, searching for anything salvageable.

Shirley Yang and I went to clear the remains of the American airman from among the various animal skeletons. I picked up the double-headed tool in his hand and squeezed it a few times; it made a dripping sound. I thought about how the blood seeping from the jade coffin must have made a similar dripping sound on the jade, how the Diaogu pecking at the tree lizards in the cabin emitted sounds like signals, and the noise the Thao python made crashing against the jade coffin—where exactly did the code for that ghostly signal originate? It was likely impossible to confirm now. Everything that happened in the dark jungle night had profoundly affected one's judgment; who could ever truly explain things that happen in the dark? I preferred to believe it was the spirit of this American pilot warning us.

However, one specific detail caught our attention: the insignia on the pilot's uniform belonged to a bomber squadron, not a transport plane. Furthermore, there was a tattered piece of white cloth on his back inscribed: "US Army Air Force, aiding in the Chinese war effort; military and civilian personnel, offer unified assistance."

This indicated he was not a crew member of this C-type transport. The climate in this area was complex; due to the vast elevation differences in the mountain basin, the airflow and air pressure were extremely unstable. It could truly be called an aircraft graveyard, and there were likely other crashed planes nearby. This survivor, upon emerging from the jungle, had become a victim of that jade coffin. Perhaps we would encounter more wreckage on our journey ahead.

So, I used my entrenching tool to dig a pit, intending to bury the pilot's body. But the ground here was too wet; after just a few scrapes, I hit tangled root systems and what seemed like kilograms of stink bug eggs, shimmering white and utterly disgusting. This environment was truly unique. Although it was subtropical, it leaned closer to a tropical rainforest south of the Tropic of Cancer and north of the Tropic of Capricorn. The constant erosion by the Lancang and Nujiang river systems had carved out this low-lying area—composed of the left side of "" plus ""—resulting in abundant groundwater resources and a hot, windless environment that fostered rampant plant growth. The ground was a mass of thick, varied root systems, completely unsuitable for burial—no wonder that priest had chosen to be interred in a tree.

Shirley Yang and I conferred and decided to temporarily use the wreckage of the C-type transport cabin as a coffin to house his remains until we could notify his people to retrieve them and take them home.

By this time, Fatty had already gathered three or four intact Thompson submachine guns, along with over ten magazines and drums. We all pitched in to wrap the American's remains in a thin blanket and shove them into the cabin wreckage, then used stones to block the gaps in the fuselage as best we could.

Shirley Yang fashioned a cross from branches and erected it in front of the C-type transport wreckage. We stood solemnly before the cross, and Shirley Yang took out his Bible and recited a few verses, hoping that this American airman, who sacrificed himself for human freedom, could rest in peace.

The scene reminded me of facing the bodies of fallen comrades on the front lines, and suddenly my nose stung. I quickly forced myself to blink hard and looked up at the sky.

Fatty suddenly took two steps forward and said, "Rest in peace, dear friend; I understand your unfinished business. The great task of glorious post-war construction, we shall shoulder it. Rest in peace, dear friend; the white clouds and blue sky sing your praises, the towering green peaks weave you a garland. The crimson grass and flowers covering the mountains tell us that a martyr lies sleeping here."

I was always left helpless and torn between laughter and tears by Fatty's words and actions. Seeing that it was nearly noon, if we delayed any longer, we wouldn't reach the entrance to the creek valley today. I called them to move out.

Although the Thompson submachine guns were heavy, after that long night, we fully appreciated their necessity in the jungle. Except for Shirley Yang, who wasn't comfortable using the "Typewriter," Fatty and I each took one. "Sword Might" and the remaining Type 64 pistol would be temporarily used by Shirley Yang. We took as many magazines and drums as we could carry, and kept the black waterproof plastic bags used for packaging the firearms.

We continued advancing along Mount Zhelong, eating dry rations as we walked. Today's segment of the journey was relatively easier. Learning from yesterday's lesson, we tried to stick to the slopes closer to the mountain range. The area where the mountains met the forest had significantly sparser vegetation than deep within the jungle. Due to the moderate density, it felt like a natural air purifier. There was neither the damp heat of the jungle nor the stuffy cold from high altitude; waves of fragrance from flowering trees refreshed our spirits, clearing our minds, and making the fatigue of the past day and night seem less noticeable.

Walking northwest like this for about four or five hours, we saw a large expanse of flowering trees, their blossoms—red, white, and yellow—the size of bowls, with countless large butterflies dancing among them. A substantial stream flowed through the cluster of flowering trees, leading into a deep area called a 'forest above a forest'—meaning the trees there were exceptionally tall, clustered together, standing clearly half as tall again as the surrounding vegetation, hence the name. This winding stream was likely the Snake Creeper River mentioned by locals; the Snake River system mostly runs underground in this region, with only this stream visible on the surface.

The stream flowed past the flowering trees, through the stretch of 'forest above a forest,' and into a deep, remote valley. Due to the dense vegetation and undulating terrain, the valley's interior was obscured even through binoculars. I took out the human-skin map to find nearby reference points and confirmed our location: this was the entrance to Bug Valley. As the terrain gradually dropped, the water flow would increase; there were some remains of dikes built during the construction of King Xian's Tomb nearby. Although the ground here was overgrown with weeds, mostly covered by low-lying plants, fragments of bricks and tiles were still visible, likely remnants of the King's Tomb's divine road.

Seeing that we had finally reached Bug Valley, our spirits lifted, and we quickened our pace, planning to set up camp near the remains of the dike wall. We strolled into the flowering tree grove. Initially, these low-growing trees displayed various vibrant blossoms, an unrestrained riot of color. But deeper within the thicket, everything was red flowers and red leaves; as far as the eye could see, they looked like massive clouds of fire, with flocks of golden-tailed butterflies flitting among the red blossoms.

This truly felt like a divine locale, a world apart from the gloomy jungle where we had spent the night not far away. Fatty remarked, "It's a pity we lost those two insect nets. Otherwise, catching hundreds of these butterflies and taking them back to Beijing to make specimens to sell could earn us a fortune. It seems there are many ways to make money in this world; if you just stay in the city without seeing things, how would you ever know?"

Shirley Yang said, "These red-flowered, red-leafed trees are called Mingyu Ferns (composed of "" above ""). They date back to before the Tertiary period, tens of millions of years ago. Most coeval organisms have gone extinct through tremendous historical changes; dinosaurs are fossils, but the Mingyu Fern survives as a relic species. It primarily grows in dark, cool, dense forests, and these bizarrely large butterflies are likely only found nearby. If you caught hundreds at once, wouldn't you cause this rare golden-money butterfly and the Mingyu Fern to go extinct together?"

Fatty snapped, "Honestly, you just love lecturing people. I was just saying it casually! If you really made Fatty catch butterflies, I wouldn't have the patience for it! Small butterflies are boring to catch; they’re not as rewarding as robbing tombs—one artifact from the Ming Dynasty is enough to cover food and drink for half a lifetime."

The three of us talked as we navigated through the flowering trees, following the remnants of the ancient divine road to where the grove met the forest edge. This was the entrance to Bug Valley. As we got closer to King Xian's Tomb, the ancient remains became more numerous.

The valley mouth looked jarringly out of place with its surroundings: two barren stone mountains that were strikingly conspicuous up close. However, because this spot was behind the 'forest above a forest,' the view from outside was blocked by the tall trees, rendering the bare stone mountains invisible until one physically reached the entrance of Bug Valley. No one would expect such two massive, sterile rocks in such a dense jungle, which gave them a very abrupt feel.

We looked up and all felt the stones resembled something specific. Upon closer inspection, each rock was painted with an eye in black pigment. However, it wasn't the spherical shape of the Muchen Pearl's eye, but an eye with eyelashes, possessing a deep, majestic gaze. Though the composition was crude, it was extremely vivid. Was this a sign that the deceased King Xian was watching everyone who dared enter this valley with his own eyes?

Shirley Yang walked closer to examine the rocks, then turned to us and said, "This is a meteorite that split in two. Most of the nearby plane crashes are probably related to it."

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