I asked irley Yang, "I see these two stones sticking here, and while they look conspicuous, the rocks themselves are unremarkable. If they were meteorites exposed like this, there should be a crater nearby. Do you see any sign of impact around here?"

She checked her watch again and said to me, "Look at the diving electronic watch you're wearing on your wrist—it’s blank now. These stones are covered in crystals. I suspect they contain some rare gas and Yuan element. Both transistor circuits and radio equipment have been affected. Perhaps the frequent plane crashes nearby are related to these two meteorites. Any aircraft that deviates from its course and approaches this area will have all its electronics fail. This place is practically the Bermuda Triangle of Yunnan."

Fatty and I both raised our hands to check our watches. Sure enough, they were all a uniform slate gray, all data erased, as if the batteries had died. I went closer to the rocks for another look and indeed saw many subtle crystals embedded in them. I had served as an engineer for several years, digging tunnels in the Kunlun Mountains day in and day out. The Kunlun range has a complex, folded geological structure, containing almost every type of rock layer, so I recognize most stones. But I had never encountered this kind of gray, crystalline mineral rock before. It did bear a resemblance to a meteorite.

Fatty was still somewhat unconvinced, but since we didn't have much other electronic gear on us, he dug out a radio from his backpack—I had brought it for news broadcasts, but it had lost signal since entering the mountains and had been buried at the bottom of the pack. The moment he turned it on, it immediately spat out a few bursts of static, then went dead, no matter how he fiddled with it.

Looking at other equipment like flashlights, which ran on dry-cell batteries, there was no effect. Fatty exclaimed, "Damn, that's weird, rocks like that actually exist. I wonder what the international going rate is per ounce. Let's grab a few samples to take back and study." With that, he picked up his climbing pick and was about to strike the rocks to chip off some samples.

I quickly stopped him. "Don't touch them! What if there's radiation? I recall reading somewhere that meteorites often contain radioactive material. Exposure means losing your hair first, followed by total body putrefaction and death."

irley Yang interjected, "Not all meteorites are radioactive. This one might contain some kind of electromagnetic energy, which is why it's interfering so severely with electronics. This meteorite probably didn't fall here; perhaps it was moved to the valley entrance later to serve as a marker for the entrance to the King's Tomb. In fact, large meteorites that actually strike the ground are extremely rare; the US has the remains of a massive crater. A meteorite must enter the atmosphere at an angle of 6.5 degrees relative to the horizontal tangent, otherwise, it burns up completely due to friction and turns to ash. These two stones are merely the residue left after intense burning, and the surface crystals are evidence of that scorching. Although nothing grows here, there are active insects nearby, so they might not be harmful to humans. However, until we know what they are, I advise you not to touch them."

Fatty was still reluctant, but since he had already secured a few genuine ancient artifacts near the Old Banyan Tree, he dropped the idea, vowing to return to this Insect Valley to mine stones if he ever fell on hard times later.

We stood at the valley entrance, examining the two stones marked with human eyes for a final time. We had planned to set up camp here for the night and head deeper into the gorge at first light to find the entrance marked with a toad symbol. But no matter how we looked at the place, something felt wrong. Standing at the gorge entrance, feeling watched by those eyes, was unsettling. Yet, the situation inside the Insect Valley was unknown, and who knew what we might encounter if we proceeded further? So, we reluctantly returned the way we came, setting up camp near the thicket of red-flowering trees to prepare dinner.

Since crossing the area on the bamboo raft until now, the three of us—except for Fatty, who slept for more than half the night—had gone almost two days and a night without proper rest and were utterly exhausted. We chose a relatively secluded and open spot to make camp.

There were few insects nearby, and the sweet fragrance of the flowering trees was intoxicating—it was truly an excellent place for an open-air bivouac. We all knew that tomorrow would bring more life-risking endeavors, and this night was our last chance for rest. We had to use sufficient sleep to restore our physical and mental states to their peak. So, we quickly ate some beef and dried rations bought from the Rainbow Inn. After a hasty meal, we left Fatty on first watch, taking turns crawling into our sleeping bags to sleep. Because we had shot a large Diao Gu (osprey/vulture) in the woods last night, and the Diao Gu is an animal with a deep sense of vengeance, several had already attempted to attack us near dawn. However, since daylight had arrived, they were unaccustomed to daytime activity and had temporarily retreated, though they might return at any moment for revenge—hence the necessity of a night watch.

During the night, I suddenly felt a tingling itch on my hand, an intense burning itch centered on the back of the hand bitten by the piranha in the mountains. I instantly shot up in my sleeping bag, reached out, and touched it. The waterproof tape wrapped around the bandage on the back of my hand had ripped open, and dozens of black Chong insects—the ones with the water radical on the left, the roof radical over Kou and Ri on the right—were crawling out of the wound. I quickly crushed two with my fingers, but more and more insects crawled out. Alarmed, I tried to call for help, looked up, and saw utter silence. The moon hung high in the sky, and Fatty and irley Yang were gone; their sleeping bags were empty.

Suddenly, there was a commotion from the nearby flowering thicket. An old man draped in a dark green robe, wearing a golden mask, riding atop an elephant, charged through the red blossoms toward me. His approach was aggressive, and I rolled away to dodge, only to feel a push on my shoulder. I snapped my eyes open—it was just a nightmare.

irley Yang was watching me beside me. "You're thrashing around again, having another dream?"

My entire body was drenched in cold sweat; the dream had felt too real. I nodded to irley Yang. It seemed it was my turn to keep watch. Strange—in my nightmare, was the masked person the Deceased King? Dreams shouldn't convey feeling, but the pain and itching from the wound still lingered even after waking. Thinking of this, I suddenly felt the wound on the back of my hand tighten, throbbing painfully.

If the wound were healing and new flesh were growing, it should be slightly itchy. This seemed worse. I peeled back the tape. The skin on the back of my hand was slightly purplish. I had already been given antibiotics, so infection shouldn't be the issue. But the wound seemed slightly larger than before. I changed the dressing myself and re-wrapped my hand, musing—could it be that those serrated piranhas had eaten the Shizhi Feng from the effigies, contaminating me with Xian poison? Thinking of the disgusting nature of Xian techniques made my stomach churn. I tried my best to think positively and rallied my spirits to stand watch.

But the more I thought about it, the more worried I became, fearing I might lose this hand. If even a few Jing worms crawled out, I’d rather chop the hand off right then and there. After a long internal struggle, I had to wake irley Yang, who had just settled down, and ask her to check if I had contracted Xian poison.

After examining it, she gave me some pills to take and comforted me, saying this was just a normal reaction to the wound healing after a fish bite and not to worry. Even the nightmare at night was caused by new flesh growing over the wound. As long as I kept it protected from further infection, it would be fine.

Only then did I let go of the knot in my stomach.

We finally made it to dawn, and the three of us set off according to our plan toward our destination, intending to find the toad-marked spot in the valley and see if we could locate a secret passage through the mountain miasma. However, the Deceased King’s tomb had been managed for many years and was very thoroughly arranged; even if there was a secret passage through the surface barriers, it probably wouldn't be easy to traverse.

The vegetation in the Insect Valley was far denser than in the surrounding jungle, making it feel cramped. After passing the two massive meteorites at the valley entrance and following the winding stream deeper into the gorge, as the terrain gradually sloped downward, the vines and creepers became more abundant. Clumps of Wisteria completely canopied the stream, and countless varied and spectacular small plants hung from the cliff faces on either side. On the trailing vines hanging halfway down the slopes, it was common to see multiple species growing together, like vibrant, colorful hanging gardens.

Due to the narrow terrain, the competition for living space here was extremely fierce. All plants stretched upward and outward beyond the valley edge to gain sufficient light, so from above, it was impossible to see the valley floor’s topography.

The environment was intensely humid and stifling, and everything in sight was a rich, deep green. After a while, our eyes started to feel strained. To push through the dense vegetation, Fatty had to take the lead, clearing the way with his entrenching tool, while irley Yang and I followed closely, struggling through the shadowed gorge thick with biting insects and old vines.

Compared to the obstruction from the vines, the biggest nuisance came from the mosquitoes and insects lurking in the dark corners of the valley. These jungle vampires, numbering at least a dozen species, attacked in swarms, heedless of their own safety. We smeared the exposed parts of our bodies with a paste made from crushed garlic and Feiji Cao (Ageratum conyzoides), and thankfully, the proprietress of the Rainbow Inn had given us some locally made mosquito repellent that was also somewhat effective. Even with these deterrents, we still received several bites; the spots immediately swelled, hardened, and stung painfully, feeling like boils.

irley Yang, however, expressed thanks to heaven that these mosquitoes weren't too large and their poison wasn't severe, noting that this wasn't a tropical rainforest. The venomous mosquitoes of the Amazon were the true blood-sucking demons of the jungle, possessing deadly toxins. But she mentioned that those highly venomous insects feared garlic—a weakness oddly coinciding with the vampires of European lore.

The dense plant life in the valley wasn't unexpected—although when the Deceased King's tomb was constructed, this area was likely the processional way leading to the main mausoleum, where all materials would have been transported. But two millennia had passed since then; the valley could have undergone tremendous changes. Vegetation cleared during the tomb's construction would have regrown, completely covering and eroding any remnants of the sacred pathway.

Yet, we could still discern that as we proceeded deeper, traces of artificial structures were becoming more frequent. Occasionally, fallen stone statues and figures emerged from the ground—these were the sculptures lining both sides of the tomb's processional way. It was clear that the Deceased King’s tomb, like others, was intentionally built with a formal approach for later generations to visit the mausoleum for sacrifices and worship. But the Deceased King likely never imagined that less than eight years after his death, his territory and subjects, including his ancestral state of Gudian, would be incorporated into the Han Dynasty's domains. The mausoleum, built with immense human and material investment, was destined to remain in this shadowed gorge, forever sealed in a forgotten corner of history. Only tomb raiders like us, the Mojin Xiaowei, would brave such dangers to pay him a visit.

We passed through layers of vegetation for three or four hours before finally spotting the ruins of a crumbling wall ahead—this was the legendary first retaining wall. Now, only a rammed earth and stone platform, over three meters thick and two meters high, remained, also covered in weeds. Only where sections of exposed quarried stone were visible did plants fail to grow. Since only a small section remained, it looked more like a green mound of earth, similar to the burial mound of a tomb, mixed into the deep valley jungle; if irley Yang hadn't had sharp eyes, we would have walked right past it.

To confirm further that this plant-covered ruin was indeed the retaining wall marked on the human-skin map, Fatty used his climbing pick to chip at the broken wall, trying to scrape away the surface weeds and moss. This blow unexpectedly caused hundreds of small tree lizards to dart out from the crevices of the wall with a "swoosh, swoosh." These little green creatures were perfectly camouflaged against the jungle vegetation, distinguishable only by their blood-red eyes and tongues; they were about the size of a finger. The lizards usually hid in the cracks of the retaining wall, and when disturbed, they fled in all directions from the rammed earth mound.

Fatty was startled by them, swinging his pick and shovel wildly, crushing many of the small lizards into flat patties.

irley Yang stopped Fatty's hand, telling him, "These small lizards don't harm people; they usually just eat insects. Why go after them?"

I suddenly noticed that as these small tree lizards fled in panic, almost all of them ran toward the outside of the valley or climbed onto the plants on either side. Despite Fatty's chaotic striking, not a single one fled deeper into the valley. Not just the tree lizards, but also the surrounding buzzing mosquitoes, the tree bugs, beetles, and dragonflies on the plants—past this broken retaining wall, there were almost no insects or animals on the side toward the stream. It seemed as if this wall marked a line of demarcation, a boundary that even the insects living in the valley dared not cross.