The Fatty brought his shovel down with a mighty swing, shattering a sizable chunk out of the jade egg encased in wax. He hadn't intended for such a result; he was merely trying to shave off the outer layer of wax, but the zhīyù within proved to be incredibly thin, cracking like an eggshell at the slightest touch. The Fatty’s heavy hand had struck too hard, and regret came too late. He tried to console himself, muttering, "It’s all jade anyway, shattered or not, it’s the same stuff inside."

Beneath the layers of "wax" and "jade," there was another layer of "cork." It seemed these items were all preserved in this meticulous manner for moisture and decay proofing. What exactly required such rigorous safeguarding? Everything inside the "Gourd Cave" seemed inextricably linked to King Xian and his High Priest. The fact that King Xian himself did not preside over the major sacrificial rites, deferring instead to a High Priest, suggested a system of governance where civil and religious authority were separate, unlike the usual fusion of temporal and spiritual rule common in China's border regions in ancient times.

The cork material was extraordinarily dense and significantly thicker than the outer two layers. The Fatty, having learned his lesson, dared not use brute force again for fear of damaging the valuable contents inside. However, restraining his strength proved difficult as his eagerness mounted. The Fatty was forced to use his entrenching tool to painstakingly chip away at the wood shavings, a process that looked like it would take several minutes just to safely breach this layer of cork.

Watching the jade fragments fall to the ground beside me, I felt a strange unease. I casually picked up a few broken pieces of jade. I saw that the jade casing was etched with incredibly fine, dense cloud patterns. A thought struck me, and I wondered: "Could these also be zhōngqǔ vessels carved with soul-stabbing runes? Are the remains sealed beneath this wax, jade, and cork actually the resentful spirits of the dead?"

I asked the Fatty to pause, and Shirley Yang and I stepped forward, crouching down to examine the pieces of jade that his shovel had spared. Using my parachute knife, I scraped away the waxy substance from the surface. On the crystalline jade shell, patterns emerged: dragons, tigers, a hundred beasts, and sacred mountains and divine trees. Especially notable were the towering, precipitous peaks—majestic, shrouded in cloud and mist—bearing distinct totemic markings that looked strikingly familiar, as if depicting Mount Zhuo’long as it appeared in ancient myths and legends.

However, these depictions were vastly different from what we knew or had heard; they possessed a strong flavor of minority cultures and seemed to date back to a very distant era. In one scene at the base of the sacred mountain, there was a hunting party, and the weapons they wielded were quite peculiar—judging by their shapes, they were all stone tools.

The jade eggs were not natural formations; even the jade material itself was not monolithic, showing clear signs of being pieced together, and furthermore, they were old jade. I told Shirley Yang and the Fatty, "This object is no small matter. It could very well be an artifact from the Neolithic period, perhaps four or five thousand years old. It might not belong to King Xian. Perhaps it was a sacred object dedicated by the ancient inhabitants of Mount Zhuo’long in the mountain god’s cave. We must not act rashly."

The Fatty retorted, "Commander Hu, don't try to bamboozle me. I’ve been steeped in the antiques world for years, a prominent figure with a name in the Panjiayuan market. As far as I know, four or five thousand years ago was still the Stone Age. Humans back then couldn’t use tools harder than jade, so how could they possibly process jade to create such complex carved patterns? I say this is the work of that old scoundrel King Xian. We stick to the original agreement: any ritual objects belonging to this ghost, we clean out completely. Don't start inventing terms like the Stone Age to throw me off."

I replied to the Fatty, "Commander Wang, let's not argue. Why don’t we let Chief Advisor Yang weigh in? She surely knows more than either of us, right?"

The Fatty nodded. "Alright, let the American consultant appraise it. Though, she only knows more than you; her skill is only on par with mine, at best..."

Shirley Yang said, "This jade material is uncommon, and I can’t pinpoint the exact era. However, during the Stone Age, humans had indeed mastered the technique of jade processing. The first Chinese dragon unearthed from the Hongshan culture, as well as numerous exquisitely crafted jade pieces excavated from the Liangzhu ancient culture sites in the Yangtze River basin, prove this. But how humans utilized primitive tools to create such jade artifacts during that relatively savage period remains an unresolved mystery in archaeology to this day."

When the Fatty heard there was no definitive conclusion, it meant he couldn't be certain whether it belonged to the Yi people or King Xian. At that, he lost interest in further debate, grabbing his entrenching tool and returning to digging at the thick layer of cork.

I could do nothing but let him continue. Truthfully, I was also intensely eager to see what object required such rigorous sealing. My only concern was that it might be some kind of religious implement revered by the Yi people, and removing it might trigger unforeseen complications. We had already faced enough trouble on this journey; even though we hadn't died, we felt skinned alive, with equipment and stamina largely depleted. If we continued this reckless path, even reaching King Xian's tomb might prove difficult to escape from.

With our current means of identification, we couldn't yet confirm which period the contents of this bizarre large bronze cabinet belonged to. The carvings on the jade shell depicting the mythical era of "Mount Zhuo’long" could have been etched by someone in King Xian's own time. These layers of tight sealing were like layers of mist obscuring our vision; without opening the final layer, nothing would be revealed.

When it came to manual labor, the Fatty was exceptionally quick. In less time than it takes to smoke half an incense stick, he had peeled away the cork. Illuminated by the tactical spotlight fixed to the side of his climbing helmet, the deep brown interior revealed a dark cyan ceramic jar wrapped within.

The Fatty and I reached out together, carefully lifting the jar from the cork and setting it down on the nearby ground. This blue-green vessel stood about forty centimeters tall, with its widest diameter reaching ten centimeters. It had a straight mouth, a high body, a bulging belly, and a slender neck, supported by three short, outward-flaring ring feet. The mouth of the jar was completely sealed, and near the lip on the shoulder, there were five strangely shaped short spouts, much like those on a wine flask, though their openings were all plugged. These spouts connected to the rhombic patterns on the jar's body, lending it a pronounced three-dimensional quality.

We stared at the jar, with its simple form and deeply captivating warm color, unsure of what it was. Even Shirley Yang couldn't immediately guess. However, this finely crafted pottery bore no markings related to zhōngshù techniques, suggesting it was unlikely to be connected to anything malevolent. It probably didn't contain anything wicked.

I reasoned that since it was already out, we might as well open it. I used my parachute knife to carefully scrape away the lacquered wax sealing the jar's mouth. The Fatty, however, became cautious now, constantly reminding me to be gentle lest I break the jar. He warned that whatever was inside might be less valuable than the exquisite jar itself, and if broken, it would be worthless.

As I spoke, I had already pulled the lid free. All three of us, consumed by curiosity, crowded together, peering into the narrow opening. The jar was filled to the brim with clear water. Seeing only crystal-clear water inside, my mind immediately formed a question mark: Why would a jar of water require such secrecy?

Shirley Yang found the tactical light on her helmet inadequate. She pulled out her "Wolf Eye" flashlight, shone it directly into the jar, and exclaimed, "There’s something at the bottom! What is that? Ah... is that a fetus?"

The Fatty and I could now see it clearly too: submerged in the shockingly clear water was a small, pale green fetus, curled up at the bottom of the jar. Due to the limited angle, I could only make out that the body was about the size of a fist, its head tilted back as if meeting our gaze. Its eyes, however, were still closed. My most immediate impression was of an unusually large forehead.

Why was there a fetus here? And its size, posture, and shape were so different from a human fetus. I stared in astonishment. After a moment of intense focus, I suddenly saw the fetus seem to snap its eyes open. Its facial features were still only outlines, but in that instant, amidst the rippling water, they transformed into two black holes widening, threatening to swallow everything.

A chill shot through me, and I hastily stepped back, nearly falling to the ground. Pointing at the jar, I stammered incoherently, "What the hell is this thing inside?" Then, instinctively, I reached for my dried donkey hoof.

Shirley Yang asked me, "What bizarre game are you playing now? There are no ghosts, it's just a jade artifact."

I swore an oath, "I promise Chairman Mao, that little demon just glared at me... and even grinned." Feeling I had lost face with my previous reaction, I added a quick supplement, making my sudden action slightly more justifiable.

The Fatty said to me, "Are you seeing things? We’re all looking, and I didn't notice anything strange."

Shirley Yang suggested, "Perhaps the water in the jar is refracting the light, and you happened to catch it at a particular angle, causing an illusion. If you pour out the water, we can easily tell if the fetus is made of jade."

By this time, I had composed myself, feeling slightly embarrassed. I conceded that perhaps the intense pressure had made me overly sensitive, seeing danger in every shadow. I settled down and returned to stand beside the Fatty and Shirley Yang.

Shirley Yang suggested that since the water was so clear, it might be some sort of special medium. We shouldn't pour it on the ground yet; we should use an empty canteen to collect it. After fully examining the details of the pale green fetus, we could pour it back in. Our goal was only to gather intelligence for the "Tomb of King Xian"; we must not damage these miraculous ancient artifacts.

The Fatty, too, was unnerved by the glistening jade fetus and temporarily abandoned his plan to pack it up and take it back to Beijing. He decided to examine it thoroughly first; if it was indeed jade, packing it up would be fine. But if it were alive, carrying it around would be highly problematic. He complied, pouring the clear water from the jar into an empty canteen. However, the infant inside was wider than the narrow mouth of the jar, making it impossible to remove without damaging the outer vessel. But now that it was out of the water, we could see it much more clearly. After all, even the clearest medium still slightly obstructed the flashlight beam compared to air.

It was absolutely a jade fetus. At least the upper half looked remarkably similar. One could count several of the tiny fingers on its small hands, and even the fontanelle on its forehead was clearly visible. Only the lower body seemed unfinished. But there was not the slightest trace of artificial carving; it seemed entirely naturally formed. The marvels of nature were indeed unfathomable to man. Yet, its resemblance to a true fetus was so uncanny that if it weren't only the size of a fist, one would truly believe it was a living infant transformed into jade through some dark magic.