"How come these female corpses are lying face up, yet their limbs are twisted at such an impossible angle?" I wondered aloud, immediately recalling the "dead floaters" I had seen earlier in the water. Could there be more of these "dead floaters" ahead in the cavern?

These female corpses were truly bizarre. Who were they? How could bodies submerged in water for millennia remain uncorrupted? Furthermore, I couldn't shake the feeling that these "dead floaters" were unlike ordinary drowned bodies; that intense sense of grievance they projected seemed to be communicating something. I scrutinized the "fossil altar" several more times, but too little of the carvings remained discernible to yield any further clues.

As if on cue, the surrounding giant toads submerged themselves again, and the water surface instantly calmed. I scanned my surroundings; the area near this fossil altar seemed relatively safe. Having swum for so long in the water, all three of us were feeling quite weary. We decided to rest here briefly, consume some high-calorie food, and, given our current situation, readjust our plan of action.

A wave of hesitation washed over me. Past experience gifted me with a sense of foreboding, making a swift decision difficult. I had no choice but to seek the opinions of Shirley Yang and Pangzi. This gourd-shaped ancient cavern, with its mouth pointing towards the inner chamber of the Xian King's tomb, meant the final stretch was fraught with unknown perils. No one truly grasped the real nature of the Mountain God, and those "dead floaters"—the most immediate threat we faced—was that female corpse phantom that kept appearing and disappearing beneath the water. Turning back the way we came was an option, but we might never find another entrance to the Xian King's tomb. The crux of the matter was assessing whether the risk was worth taking.

Shirley Yang turned to me. "Actually, the carvings convey much more information than you realized, just because you missed it. Look, the indigenous people in the drawing all have plumes in their hair. Only the leading chief wears a horned helmet. The composition of the carvings is overly simplistic, which makes this detail easy to overlook. Remember that mask we found in the jade coffin of the Xian King's high priest? I suspect that golden mask is connected to this."

Whether the indigenous leader in the carving wore a helmet or a mask was hard to distinguish. Only those two long, curved horns were prominent, signifying a person of unique status—if not the paramount chief, then certainly a high priest presiding over important sacrificial rites.

I asked Pangzi to take out the golden mask for another look. Pangzi, true to form, had kept the sacrificial artifacts close, tucked away in his carry-all bag. Taking them out now, we examined the mask: the top sported two forked dragon horns, or perhaps stag antlers; the face had the eyes of a lion and the mouth of a tiger, with fish-like ears, synthesizing features from various animals—a truly bizarre construction. Moreover, the mask's surface was inlaid with numerous raised and sunken eyeballs, immediately recognizable as the totem worshipped by the Jingjue people of the ancient desert city. Comparing it to the carving, the horned headdress of the barbarian leader did indeed bear a resemblance to the shape of this golden mask.

Shirley Yang stated, "The fossil altar carvings date back at least three thousand years, while the Xian King's tomb is only a little over two millennia old. I suspect this secret underground passage might be the only route to the Xian King's tomb from the outside. And the so-called Mountain God residing in the cave has been worshipped and sacrificed to by the local barbarians since ancient times. Therefore, the Xian King's subordinates co-opted the ancient sacrificial rituals of the local indigenous people. After the tomb was sealed, if one wished to enter the Ming Tower to offer sacrifices to the Xian King, they would need to follow the established protocol: simply offer a sufficient number of giant toads to the deity in the cave to pass through safely. The Qin and Han dynasty wooden boats and those decaying long poles found at the end of the burial trench prove that at least one such sacrificial ceremony took place after the tomb was sealed."

Shirley Yang paused, then continued, "Additionally, based on my knowledge of fauna, the large toads in the nearby waters don't naturally live here. They are likely congregating at some source of moisture in the valley. It’s only because the insects breeding underground recently entered their spawning season that so many large toads have been attracted."

Listening to Shirley Yang's analysis, which was delivered with such clarity and coherence, I couldn't help but admire her insight. "Chief Advisor Yang, your foresight is incredible. You extracted so much intelligence just from a mask that none of us paid any attention to. The Xian King must have been an outsider. As the saying goes, 'a strong dragon cannot crush a local snake'..."

Pangzi was clearly unconvinced. Before I could finish, he interjected to Shirley Yang, "I was the first one to figure out this gourd cave led to the Xian King's tomb, even before we entered. You tell us what this Mountain God and these female corpses actually are—what trick is this gourd playing?"

Shirley Yang shook her head. "I'm not a prophet, how would I know? I'm only making inferences based on the clues before us. What the reality is, we won't know until we see it with our own eyes. But I believe the information on this altar is genuine. The Mountain God and those female corpses exist. Even if their true forms differ significantly from ancient perceptions, there is definitely something bizarre lurking in that cavern."

Shirley Yang then asked me, "Old Hu, you've seen a great deal. In your experience, what could the true appearance of this Mountain God be? Are we confident we can traverse the rest of this gourd cave?"

I told Shirley Yang and Pangzi, "In my opinion, that black-faced Mountain God, covered in coarse hair and with a lifeless face, is undoubtedly an ancient, thousand-year-old jiangshi spirit residing in the cave, heavily laden with corpse poison. The meaning of the altar carving is quite clear: the barbarians captured large toads and lowered them into the cave using long poles, not because something was eating them, but because the toads themselves carry venom glands. When confronted by a more ferocious toxic attack, they release poison through the glands on their backs to fight back. In the end, their vital essence is depleted by the corpse poison, which is why they emerge looking like dried-up toad jerky. Only by baiting the old jiangshi into temporarily expelling its poison, and then using the golden mask to suppress it, might one pass through the gourd cave. Normally, without this specific method, any outsider who unknowingly enters would succumb to the corpse poison and die. I encountered similar folk legends in Yunnan; my deduction is well-founded, not just made up. However, those floating corpses, the dead floaters—I truly cannot explain them. They are unheard of and unseen. I don't know what connection those female corpses have to that millennia-old zongzi spirit."

Pangzi, though not one to back down easily, visibly stiffened at the mention of a three-thousand-year-old evolved jiangshi. After all, none of them had ever encountered such a creature; who could guarantee that a black donkey's hooves and glutinous rice would be enough to handle it? He quickly declared, "Political Commissar Hu, your earlier words about the strong dragon not crushing the local snake were excellent and entirely accurate. Regardless of anything else, that old jiangshi has lived there for years, hasn't broken any laws, hasn't caused trouble in society—what does that tell us? It means he's a model citizen, bothering no one. If we insist on picking a fight and forcing our way through, with our skills, it's certainly possible. But that would make us unreasonable. I say we should take a detour, give each other face, and let sleeping dogs lie."

Shirley Yang responded, "Using toads to exhaust the poison gas in the cave is very plausible. But I doubt there is some ancient jiangshi spirit. Why would the ancients worship a jiangshi as a Mountain God? That's impossible. It’s just that the naked corpse emerging from the water, completely bare, faintly shrouded in a spectral aura—the moment the female corpse appears, it generates an inexplicable sense of sorrow, as if carrying some potent lingering resentment. It looks like there will be more ahead in the cavern, and what their nature is, we must guard against."

Pangzi and I exclaimed in unison upon hearing Shirley Yang utter the word "naked corpse": "Naked female corpse!" I instantly realized my slip, quickly clapping a hand over my mouth, but it was too late. I found it very strange: why did Pangzi say the exact same words, not missing a single syllable? That scoundrel was truly a pervert.

When I had seen that female corpse suddenly rise from the water and silently vanish, the event was so sudden that I hadn't clearly noted whether she was completely unclothed. I only registered that the floater was female, her figure very youthful, enveloped in a chilling white light. Recalling it now, she did seem to be a naked corpse. But why wasn't she wearing clothes? Had they dissolved in the water? Even if it were a true jiangshi, being stark naked was certainly peculiar. My curiosity piqued, a sudden urge arose to take a closer look.

Feeling awkward about my earlier outburst about the "naked female corpse," I coughed artificially and addressed Shirley Yang and Pangzi: "Now that we've reached this point, there’s no reason to retreat. We should move on. If you have the mettle, follow me, put on your gas masks, and let's penetrate the final stretch of this gourd cave. Whatever ghosts or jiangshi lie ahead, whatever is in that cavern, as long as we fear no sacrifice and overcome all difficulties, we will surely achieve final victory."

Pangzi, a man who couldn't keep things bottled up, became quite animated at this moment, slapping his thigh and declaring, "That's the spirit! Professor Chen’s life hangs by a thread; there's no time to waste! We must see this rescue through to the end, sending the Buddha to the West, as it were. This grave responsibility compels us not to falter. Strike while the iron is hot to achieve success! This is the final struggle, and the Internationale shall certainly be realized! Fierce mountains and wicked waters cannot block our soaring ambition; the boundless sky cannot contain the soaring eagle! When the morning sun rises tomorrow, we shall return to our long-missed homes filled with the joy of victory. Recalling those nights and days of battle, our hearts still brimming with unspent zeal, we must solemnly report back to Motherland—for the happiness of mankind..."

Pangzi's sudden enthusiasm regarding completing the final section of the gourd cave left Shirley Yang somewhat bewildered, and she regarded us with a curious gaze. Seeing Pangzi rambling on endlessly, I covertly tugged his arm and whispered, "You're making a scene like breaking a jar in a latrine, spouting nonsense. Stop playing the fool. You just want to see the naked corpse, don't you? Enough chatter; grab your gear and lead the way."