The phantom Wolf King vanished silently beneath the moonlight, like a white gust in the snow. Back when I was doing my labor service in the Northeast, the village hunters told me that a wolf growing white fur meant it was close to achieving sentience. The harsh conditions of survival had made the wolf packs cunning and vicious to an extreme degree. In the Tibetan regions, wolves have always been unwelcome; people chase them down, dogs bite them. To survive in the crevices of nature requires such a tenacious will and iron constitution. This giant wolf must have long understood the power of firearms, only showing itself when it deemed weapons no threat.

I had no idea what strategy the pack would employ against us. The only immediate course was to quickly rendezvous with the Lama and the Big Guy, using the ruined walls of the temple as support, and strive to hold out until dawn. Even if reinforcements failed to arrive, the wolves would likely retreat into the mountains once daylight broke.

Holding my rifle steady, I constantly scanned our surroundings, wary of an attack that could erupt at any moment. With my other hand, I supported Medic Gama as we swiftly moved toward the temple ruins where the Lama and the Big Guy were hidden. Gama held her pistol, and her dizziness seemed to have somewhat subsided. We circled the patch of weeds where the Company Commander and the Signalman had met their end, finally reaching the edge of the broken red wall. These fragments of the ruined rampart were only chest-high. I lifted Gama over the top first, then scrambled over myself.

Iron Rod Lama was tending to the heavily wounded Big Guy. Seeing me bring Gama back, he exclaimed, "By the grace of the Auspicious Mother of Pure Light, the Puse army has finally brought back Gama-Lam!" After speaking, he looked up at the bright moon in the sky. Whether the Kagyu school (White Sect), the Gelug school (Yellow Sect), or the Nyingma school (Red Sect), they all believed that a temple bathed in such a perfect, luminous moon should be a "Dakini's Pure Land." Yet, amidst the deep grass and fog, everything had become pitch black hell; the demonic moon and its multitude of deities had turned this originally sacred place into the terrifying, chaotic finale of the Eight Disasters and Eight Hardships, teeming with dancing demons. Who was this meant to punish?

I anxiously said to the Lama, "The wolf pack is gathering outside, and our ammunition isn't plentiful. We must start a fire to scare them off, or we’ll all be eaten by the hungry wolves before morning."

The Lama sighed, "They've gone mad; wolves dare to enter a temple to eat people now." He then led his old horse over to the wall. The horse was already trembling like a sieve from the constant howls echoing from all sides. All the wolves from the pastures beneath the Kunlun Mountains must have converged outside the temple. The Lama and his old horse had never heard so many wolves howling at the moon in their lives. These desperate, cornered wolves cared nothing for who was or wasn't a disciple destined by the Buddha. Chanting scriptures was useless now.

Walls of varying degrees of damage formed a circle. One section was taller, its structure weighted down by a collapsed main beam. Another side featured the temple’s inscribed stele, engraved with "By Imperial Edict of the Precious Dharma King." This massive, broken stone monument stood nearly five meters high, making it difficult for the wolves to approach from those two sides, but we still had to guard against them forming a wolf ladder to leap over.

Gama first checked the Big Guy's wounds. Judging by her expression, the Big Guy was likely facing a grim fate this time. I picked up a few pieces of dry mu yuan wood from the rubble and placed them on the small fire, making the flames burn stronger. Then I took the Big Guy's semi-automatic rifle and handed it to Gama. We positioned ourselves to guard two of the low walls.

Suddenly, the wolf howls subsided. I peered out beyond the wall. More and more wolves were descending from the ridge toward the ruined temple. I could see several wolf shadows darting among the overgrown weeds and broken walls. They had clearly spotted the firelight inside the enclosure and dared not move until the Wolf King gave the order. The Lama had managed to gather dry yak dung and fire-starting wood, and a small blaze was now burning within the remaining walls. We were positioned in the remains of what seemed to have been a side hall, moving around the ruined temple structure.

I spotted a pair of wolf eyes, glowing like small green lamps, about forty meters away. I immediately raised my rifle, aligning the three points, aiming between the two green lights, and pulled the trigger. With a gunshot echoing in the silent night, both green lights simultaneously winked out. Although I couldn't confirm a hit, the shot served as a powerful warning. The wolves of the wilderness had feared the sound of the Type 56 semi-automatic rifle more than anything else during these past days; it was a divine weapon capable of shattering their souls and confidence. The remaining wolves dared not linger nearby and melted back into the darkness. However, the low, guttural howls indicated they had only temporarily retreated, not given up the fight.

Seeing the pack withdraw, I finally let some tension drain from my taut nerves. I recalled what I encountered on the path to the ancient tomb behind the temple and found it quite peculiar—that stone figure half-buried in the earth, covered entirely in rotting green flesh. I casually asked the old Lama if the past disappearances of people and livestock were connected to it.

Unexpectedly, the Lama had never heard of any foul-smelling, rotting stone statue within the temple. The Lama asked me to describe it in detail. I thought, if you’re asking me, then who am I supposed to ask? I had assumed the Lama knew the situation of this ruined temple intimately; turns out, he was just an ordinary old man. So, while keeping watch on the wolf pack outside the walls, I recounted everything that had just happened to the Lama.

The Lama chanted the Six-Syllable Mantra several times after listening, then exclaimed in shock, "We always thought it was the lingering, malevolent spirit of the Ghost Mother and Demon Consort from the ancient tomb, which led to the construction of the temple and the great Vajra statue to suppress the evil spirits using the stupa and the white conch. But for so many years, the successive Buddhas were helpless. Who would have thought it was the stone statue before the tomb causing the trouble? If not for the earthquake and the sinking lake, and if the Puse army hadn't stumbled upon it, perhaps no one would ever have found it. If this thing were allowed to mature for another hundred years, it would surely become a great menace."

I didn't fully understand. "Lama-A-ke, what exactly did you mean? How can stone become sentient? It's a pity I didn't have any grenades on me just now; otherwise, I would have sent it flying to heaven while I was at it."

The Lama said, "You Han people call this pass Kunlun Yakou, but in the Buddhist scriptures, it is called Rubaikaka, meaning the Eight-Petaled Sukha supported by the Turtle Dragon. Heaven resembles the Wheel of Eight Blessings, and the earth resembles an Eight-Petaled Lotus. The location of this temple is precisely in the heart of that lotus. The Qiemar Mountain to the east resembles the [content redacted] of a Rakshasi woman; the terrain to the south resembles a Scorpion grasping; the rocks to the west look like a Water Demon gazing; and the Ghost Lake to the north, before it dried up, resembled a shattered Dragon Mirror. Building a temple here, in such auspicious topography, to intimidate the demons of the four directions, should have resulted in perfect merit."

However, the drying of the lake turned this place into the playground of malevolent spirits. The Scorpion Fish that devours men and beasts emerged from the dry lake bed. The sky above Langoa narrowed because the 'Buda' (a type of water demon described in Buddhist texts) attached itself to the ancient tomb's stone statue, drowning people in the river to consume their vital essence.

What the Lama was describing seemed like the geomancy of Esoteric Buddhism, vastly different from the half-destroyed book I read. Perhaps the core principles aligned, but the methods of expression varied too much. At that time, I had little grasp of deep Feng Shui secrets and couldn't understand the meaning behind his descriptions of complex topographical formations. I only distinctly heard him mention something called "Buda." This word felt familiar, as if I had heard it recently. Then I recalled when our advance team first reached Budongquan, the transport soldiers mentioned a man-eating water monster in Qinghai Lake. Those who claimed to have seen it described it as resembling a log, while others said it looked like a large fish. The only consistency was that it smelled foul and looked greenish. Soldiers from the Tibetan regions told us that these were all "Buda," water devils that possessed whatever object they attached themselves to. If caught, they had to be smashed and burned, otherwise, if they grew old enough, nothing short of the Buddha's Great Garuda bird could subdue them. Just after this discussion, the Company Commander overheard us and severely reprimanded us.

Tibetan lands are full of taboos and legends; I couldn't know the full details. I thought to myself that whatever it was, I would find a way to burn it once daylight broke; I must avenge my comrades.

The Lama said, "Countless men and livestock have died by the edge of this Ghost Lake. Ordinary people cannot deal with the Buda on the stone statue. We must ask a Buddha Master to consecrate the great salt, and have a Dharma Protector who has cultivated for four lifetimes carry the salt container. First, use the salt to bury the rotting stone man, and only after three days, dig it up to smash and burn it; that is the safest method."

As we were discussing in low voices, a thick cloud suddenly drifted across the sky, obscuring the bright moon. The area outside the temple, beyond the reach of the firelight, instantly plunged into pitch blackness. Gama, the Lama, and I immediately tensed up. We knew the wolf pack would also recognize this as the optimal moment to attack; they would certainly rush in regardless of the risk.

A sharp, mournful wolf howl echoed from above, desolate and filled with unspeakable malice—it was the voice of the White Wolf King. It had finally given the signal to attack. Dark winds swirled around us, revealing countless flickering, oily green little lamps. I quickly grabbed a few wooden sticks and threw them outside the wall to illuminate targets for shooting.

This situation demanded immense testing of one's physical agility and mental fortitude. One could only focus on taking down the wolves one by one, absolutely not allowing oneself to be distracted by the numerous, darting, hungry beasts. Simultaneously, one had to endure the terror of being slowly compressed and surrounded. Compounding this, the cloud cover meant visibility was extremely low. I missed my target five times in a row, drenched in sweat, when suddenly a giant wolf leaped down from the "Imperial Edict of the Precious Dharma King" stele. It didn't hesitate regarding the fire pit below, plunging directly from mid-air toward the old horse huddled against the wall. The teeth in its jaws were fully extended, ready to clamp down on the horse's neck.

The Lama swung his iron rod, striking squarely into the wolf's mouth, breaking three or four of its hardest teeth. The wolf was struck, tumbled onto the ground, and rolled into the fire pit, immediately engulfed in flames. At this moment, the panicked horse neighed and bolted toward me. I ducked quickly; the horse leaped over the low wall behind me and was instantly tackled by several giant wolves rushing in from outside, dragged away into the tall grass.

Another lean, black-maned wolf bounded into our defensive perimeter and pounced onto the heavily wounded, unconscious Big Guy. Gama raised her rifle and shot the black wolf dead. Simultaneously, two more wolves sprang in. I tried to bring my rifle to bear in support, but found the magazine empty. I had no choice but to stab forward with my bayonet. Gama's rifle was also out of bullets; she tossed it aside and drew her pistol to fire. The Lama, chanting the Six-Syllable Mantra, swung his iron rod at the hungry wolves continuously leaping over the low wall. For a moment, shouts, wolf howls, gunshots, and the sounds of human and wolf bone-breaking struggles merged into one chaotic clamor within the broken walls of the ruined temple.