The three men, initially ready to support each other, quickly found themselves fighting isolated battles amidst the chaos and dire straits. The Lama’s weapon proved unexpectedly effective; though his iron rod looked cumbersome and ancient, every swing aimed at a wolf’s head was true. Strangely, the wolves seemed instinctively wary of the rod, often hesitating or being a step too slow, resulting in shattered skulls upon impact. The Lama single-handedly held the stone wall barrier, while the army physician Ge Ma retreated to the big man’s side, using his pistol to shoot down the ravenous wolves that lunged too close.

I stabbed wildly with my rifle. Seeing Ge Ma out of pistol rounds and busy reloading, I plunged my bayonet deep into the flank of a large wolf lunging at her. The bayonet, much like a three-edged armor-piercing spike with a blood groove, pinned the creature to the ground against the wall corner, its pain so intense it couldn't even cry out. Just then, another hungry wolf, identifiable by a long scar across its face, leaped over the wall and lunged at me, its jaws spread wide to reveal two rows of teeth like blades.

I tried to wrench my rifle free to finish it mid-air, but having exerted too much force earlier, the bayonet was stuck fast in the body of the half-dead wolf. Having never participated in wolf drives and only having encountered lone wolves in the Northeast, I was unfamiliar with wolf behavior. Surrounded now, I genuinely felt my composure start to crumble; the more anxious I became, the more the bayonet refused to budge.

The situation was critical, forcing me to release the rifle and throw myself to the ground, narrowly dodging the scarred-face wolf. But I was a hair too slow; the wolf ripped off my sheepskin military cap, and its claws left a gash above my ear. The fresh blood immediately froze into ice crystals. The scarred wolf, having cleared my head, didn't pause or abandon its attack, instead rushing straight for the Lama opposite. The Lama swept his iron rod, striking its shoulder blade; it let out a muffled cry and tumbled aside. The first wolf that had fallen into the bonfire was now burnt charcoal, and the stench of scorching permeated the air.

These were the fiercest core members of the pack. Many more hungry wolves lingered outside the temple walls. Although the Wolf King had issued commands, the others were likely still shaken by the intensity of the recent rifle fire. Before they could fully recover their senses, they wouldn't dare rush forward en masse. Otherwise, if hundreds of hungry wolves had charged at once, even with three heads and six arms, we couldn't have held them off.

As I lay on the ground preparing to scramble up, I suddenly felt a crushing weight on my back. A massive wolf had pinned me down, its claws resting on my shoulders. Though I couldn't see behind me, I sensed that this unusually enormous wolf was likely the one-eyed, white-furred Wolf King. This nearly spirit-like white wolf had waited for the gunfire to subside before leaping in. Its perfect timing was chilling to contemplate.

I kept repeating to myself: Do not turn around. Once I turned, the Wolf King would seize my throat, and I would inevitably meet the same fate as that damned Official Xu. The giant wolf behind me waited patiently for me to turn, anticipating the moment when it could drain the blood of a living man—the sweetest flavor in the world.

My head buzzed, my face pressed against the icy ground, daring not to move an inch. I wanted desperately to fight back, but my hands were empty, devoid of any weapon. Under these circumstances, my proletarian iron fists were utterly useless.

Great swathes of dark clouds obscuring the moon were swept away by high-altitude air currents, and the bright moonlight poured down like liquid mercury, bathing the desolate weeds and scrub in silver-white.

The Lama’s situation was also growing desperate. After all, he was elderly and weak; the heavy iron rod was swinging slower and slower. Finally, the rod was seized by the jaws of a seasoned hungry wolf, and he couldn't shake it loose. As the Lama struggled with the wolf for possession of the rod, he saw me pinned to the ground by a giant wolf in the moonlight. Wanting to rush to my aid but unable to break free, he kicked a packet towards me: "Pu Se Da Jun, quickly use your Han people’s Ten Thousand Thunders Demon-Smiting Rod!"

The package almost struck my shoulder. I wondered what the "Han people's Ten Thousand Thunders Demon-Smiting Rod" was, but upon touching it, I instantly understood: it was Big Guy’s ammunition bandolier. Each of us had been issued two grenades; I had thrown mine into the pond to foul the mud. Big Guy’s, however, had remained unused. The Lama had taken it off him after he was wounded. If the Lama hadn't reminded me, I would have forgotten it entirely.

I immediately pulled out a grenade, but with the wolf pressing on my shoulder, I couldn't make any large movements, lest a single opening invite the wolf’s fatal kiss. Thinking quickly, I used the bandolier to shield my face and violently turned my head. Behind me seemed to loom a white-haired, ferocious ghoul—it was indeed the Wolf King. A white flash crossed my vision, and it had already clamped down on the bandolier.

At that moment, I pulled the fuse. The grenade immediately began to hiss white smoke. I intended to fling it backward; once it exploded, it would surely scare off these hungry wolves. The Wolf King, having bitten down on the canvas bandolier, was furious. Suddenly spotting the hissing grenade, an inauspicious messenger of death, it raised a paw and swiped the grenade from my hand aside.

The grenade didn't roll very far. I cursed inwardly; this white wolf truly was impossibly clever. I surmised that even if it didn't know what a grenade was, its experience surviving harsh environments told it that this object was dangerous. It wanted to be as far away from this ominous short club as possible. Though it batted the grenade away with its paw, the distance was still too close. If it exploded, the consequences would be dire; the shrapnel would injure everyone inside the wall, wolf and man alike.

I was still pinned by the Wolf King; at this point, even sacrificing myself by throwing my body onto the grenade was impossible. The image flashed through my mind: everyone injured, the subsequent surge of wolves tearing the four of us apart to be eaten. My entire body felt plunged into an ice cellar. Time ticked by, second by second. I estimated the detonation was due within those two seconds.

At that final, nerve-shattering moment, the hungry wolf that had been biting the Lama's iron rod finally wrenched it free. But it pulled too hard and couldn't retract its feet in time, stumbling backward until it landed directly on top of the soon-to-explode grenade. With a BOOM, white smoke billowed out. Most of the fragments were intercepted perfectly by this unlucky wolf. Its body, weightless like a sack, was lifted nearly a meter into the air by the shockwave before crashing heavily to the ground.

The three or four hungry wolves inside the wall, including the Wolf King, froze momentarily. Then they bolted out the wall and vanished into the night without looking back. The weaker wolves outside, already terrified by the gunfire, were even more frightened by the explosion, especially the acrid smell of gunpowder hanging in the air. They immediately scattered and fled. In this fight, over a dozen ferocious wolves had died, and the pack would not recover its strength anytime soon.

I rolled over, ignoring any wounds I might have sustained, grabbed Ge Ma's dropped rifle, and used the bayonet to dispatch the few injured wolves inside the wall one by one before slumping onto the ground. I felt as though my soul had departed, taking a long time to return. If the pack had counter-attacked then, even if they were all old and weak wolves, we would have met a glorious end.

As I gasped for breath, I suddenly heard the Lama cry out in alarm. I forced myself up instantly. Ge Ma had fallen into a pool of blood. My eyes had been clouded with the frenzy of killing, but now that I had regained my senses, I quickly joined the old Lama in helping lift the army physician. Looking at the wounds, the Lama and I were both stunned: a section of her intestines had been ripped out by a wolf, hanging out of her uniform in a bluish coil, already crusted with ice.

I started crying in desperation, unable to speak. Fortunately, the Lama had studied medicine at the monastery and performed emergency treatment on Ge Ma. Checking her breathing, though shallow, she was still alive.

I checked Big Guy next. His injuries were severe, but he hadn't lost much blood, and given his robust physique, he was temporarily out of danger. I asked the Lama, "Can Army Physician Ge Hong last until dawn?" With the horses dead, in these desolate mountains, the Lama and I couldn't possibly carry two seriously wounded men out. We could only hope for the reinforcements to arrive quickly. At least the wolves had retreated into the deep mountains.

The Jade Rabbit in the night sky was already leaning westward. The Lama looked at the moon, half-hidden by the peaks: "It will be dawn soon. If we keep the two soldiers warm, they should survive. Pu Se Da Jun, rest assured, I will chant sutras and pray for the Buddha’s protection."

Wiping the frozen snot and tears from my face, I expressed skepticism that chanting could save the wounded. The Lama continued, "You just look after the bonfire; keep it burning high. The light will attract the auspicious Sky Dancers. I will make a great vow: if the Buddha opens his eyes and grants safety to the injured, I will spend the rest of my life circling Lhatso Lhamo until my final liberation." (Lhatso Lhamo: a place name, the sacred lake that protects the recovery of the sick, meaning the Lake of Celestial Nymphs Hanging in the Sky.)

Seeing the Lama’s solemnity, I couldn't help but feel grateful. I covered Big Guy and Ge Ma with every piece of clothing I could find, built up the bonfire in the lee of the wall, and applied the Lama's secret medicine to my own wounds. The eastern clouds were gradually turning dark red; the first light of dawn was appearing. I was overcome with emotion, gazing blankly at the prayer wheel in the Lama's hand, listening to his chanting, and surprisingly experiencing a strange feeling, as if listening to the sounds of heaven.

Around ten in the morning, we were found by the brother company that had come to our aid. The troops sealed the Kunlun Pass. Ge Ma, Big Guy, and I were to be urgently evacuated. As we parted, I asked the Lama about the "Buduo" by that ghostly lake—should we follow his earlier suggestion: find the Buddha, bury it with salt, and then burn it?

The Lama nodded affirmatively, adding that he would go to Lhatso Lhamo Lake immediately to pray for the wounded, but he would first return to report the matter to the Buddha. He wished the Great Army well, hoping the Buddha would protect their peace and safety.

I told Fatty and Shirley Yang, "Then I followed the troops deep into the Kunlun Mountains for construction. My comrade, Big Guy, is still alive, though he became a disabled veteran. Army Physician Ge Ma never woke up again; she remains in a vegetative state. I visit them whenever I have time. The ruins of that broken temple and the ancient tomb are still preserved to this day. Looking back now, the rest isn't that important; the key is the corpse in the ancient tomb—the special garments and expression were strikingly similar to the bronze figures and murals we saw in the Xian King’s tomb. The local Tibetans say it is the tomb of the Demon Queen of the ancient Kingdom of Mo, but that’s just legend. The Demon Queen can be reincarnated, so there should be more than one. Records of the Kingdom of Mo only exist in long, orally transmitted epics; no one has ever actually seen what clothes the Demon Queen's enchanting consort wore."

After hearing this story of my past, Shirley Yang told me, "The city depicted in the mural is dedicated to a giant eye totem, and the figures inside are identical to the corpse in the ancient tomb below Phoenix Temple. Perhaps that city was the altar of the Kingdom of Mo. I wonder what secret connection exists between the Kingdom of Mo and the Bottomless Ghost Cave."

It seemed I would be busy once I returned to Beijing. First, I needed to cut open the Xian King's head to see if the Muchen Pearl inside was real. Second, I had to find the first half of the Sixteen-Character Yin-Yang Feng Shui Secret Art, which would allow me to decipher the information about the Muchen Pearl within the Dragon Bone. Finally, I had to gather some data on the mysterious dynasty of the Kingdom of Mo, because without piecing together the Sixteen Characters, the Dragon Bone celestial book couldn't be deciphered. All the information about the Muchen Pearl might hinge on that. At that point, I would pursue both paths, waiting to see where I could achieve a breakthrough. I wondered if that Iron Rod Lama was still alive. Perhaps I could find him by the shore of Lhatso Lhamo, the Lake of Celestial Nymphs Hanging in the Sky, to reminisce and perhaps learn some of what we needed to know.