The Iron Stupa Lama immediately decided to accompany me to destroy the Demon Lord's tomb. As a Dharma Protector Vajra of the Buddha, eliminating demons was his foremost duty, and although he hadn't chanted the verses of the Demon-Subduing Precious Pearl King for over thirty years, these Heaven-bestowed teachings, upon careful recollection, still held many details for him.

I worried about the Lama's age; after all, he was sixty, not what he used to be. According to the clues in the scriptures, the demon tower enshrining the "Glacier Crystal Corpse" lay at the very peak of the snow mountain. What if something untoward happened?

The Iron Stupa Lama said, "I vowed to circumambulate this lake, yet little Ge Ma's condition has not improved. I hope this time I can perform a great meritorious deed and bring Ge Ma's soul back from the underworld (Tibetans believe that losing one's wits is soul-loss). After success, I must return to complete the vow of circumambulation. A practitioner's view on death and life is entirely different from that of ordinary people; dying while accumulating merit ensures rebirth in the Pure Land."

Seeing the Lama’s determination, I felt this was precisely what I needed. The Iron Stupa Lama was an expert in Tibetan customs and proficient in Esoteric Medical principles; having his guidance would undoubtedly double our efficiency with half the effort. Thus, we packed our gear, and once again, Wangdui led us toward the westernmost part of Tibet—the Ngari region, nestled beneath the Himalayas.

We rendezvoused with Fatty Ming Shu and his party at Sengge Zangbo. They had arrived shortly before us. As I counted heads, it seemed there was an extra person. Besides the four of us—myself, Fatty, Shirley Yang, and the Iron Stupa Lama—Ming Shu's group included Peter Huang, Han Shuna, and A Xiang; it turned out Ming Shu's runner, A Dong, had also tagged along.

I asked Fatty why A Dong had come. Fatty told me that the rascal usually just ran errands for Ming Shu, but upon learning that Ming Shu was heading out for big business, he begged Ming Shu to take him along every day. Eventually, he pestered Old Man Jin until Old Man Jin interceded on his behalf after receiving a little something. Old Man Jin then chirped to Ming Shu that the lowest altitude in Tibet was still over four thousand meters, so they needed someone to manage the oxygen tanks. And so, A Dong ended up carrying the oxygen tanks for them.

I thought to myself that things were truly getting lively now—more and more people, nine of us before we even reached the Guge Kingdom ruins. But there was nothing to be done; once we found clues to the Demon Kingdom's place of reincarnation in the demon tower, we would have to split up and couldn't stay clustered together.

Since there was no passable trail to the Guge ruins yet, the guide had to hire several yaks. Those suffering more severely from altitude sickness rode the yaks, which was fortunate as we didn't have overly heavy supplies. We rested for two days in the small settlement of Sengge Zangbo, which boasted only about a hundred households, before setting off toward the royal city ruins to search for the Guge Silver Eye.

The journey was desolate, devoid of any sign of human life. Sparse, yellow scrub grass littered the Gobi. There was hardly any wind. Looking up at the sky, the immense blue made the dry earth and withered grass on the ground seem almost blinding. The brown mountain ranges in the distance looked jagged and eerie, compelling one not to stare for too long.

We made slow progress. I led the Lama’s yak for him. Seated on the animal’s back, the Iron Stupa Lama recited the verses he had learned through divine inspiration—tales of monstrous spirits and titanic battles.

Suddenly, some wooden stakes protruding from the ground appeared by the roadside. Shirley Yang remarked that they looked somewhat like the remnants of ancient tombs. Hearing the word "tomb," even Ming Shu, who had been struggling for breath while slumped over the yak, instantly perked up, craning his neck to look.

The guide said those ancient tombs had long been abandoned, and everything inside was gone. "Don't let the desolation fool you," he advised. "Around the Tang Dynasty, this area was packed with Qilian cypress trees. The structure of these tombs was built entirely from whole Qilian cypress logs. This peculiar wood dislikes both drought and dampness and is only found on the mountains bordering Qinghai and Tibet. They were gifts bestowed by the Tang Emperor to the local vassal king, transported over a thousand li. But later, internal strife erupted in the vassal state, and these tombs were all destroyed. The remnants have lasted until today."

After passing this stretch of desolate burial grounds, we traveled for about another day before finally reaching the ancient city. It had been discovered long ago, and apart from numerous murals, carvings, and statues, it was mostly ruins. At that time, it hadn't garnered much attention from the autonomous county government; it wasn't like a few years later when iron gates would be installed and guards posted. Back then, virtually no one would trek this far just to see these ruins.

Looking up from the base of the mountain, we saw a drop of over three hundred meters from the slope to the summit. Everywhere were clusters of buildings and caves, the exact color of the earth. Except for the more structurally sound temples, most residential buildings had collapsed, some reduced to mere earthen walls, encircled by the remains of outer walls and watchtowers. The entire royal city was built against the mountain: the palace at the very top, the temples in the middle tier, and the residences and outer defensive structures at the bottom.

I said to Ming Shu, "The Guge ruins aren't exactly small, but looking through these hundreds of houses and caves will take us some time. Where exactly is this 'Guge Silver Eye' you mentioned? We should head straight for the target."

Due to the altitude sickness, Ming Shu’s mind was sluggish. After thinking for a long while, he recalled that it was likely in a temple, not the palace. According to the scripture, there should be a "Cycle Temple" here, and it should be located there.

Among the ruins of the royal city, several temples stood out prominently, clearly visible at a glance. Of course, these included the Red Temple, the White Temple, and the Cycle Temple ruins. We couldn't distinguish which was which, so we had to ask the Iron Stupa Lama. The Lama could certainly tell which was the "Cycle Temple" just by its external structure. He pointed the way: past the Dharma Protector Hall, the temple site with several red pillars behind it was the Rotation Temple that housed the Guge Silver Eye.

Explorers had visited this area as early as the 1930s, and no danger had been reported. However, just to be safe, I gave Fatty a shotgun. Carrying one myself, I led the way, winding around layer after layer of earth walls, climbing halfway up the slope. Hardly any structures here remained intact among the ruins. Due to evaporation from Tibet's dry climate, weathering was severe. If it were only dry, it would be manageable, but during the rainy season, downpours lashed this place. Year after year of erosive weathering had turned the once-dense earth brittle, crumbling into dust with any external force. All jutting parts of the broken walls and remnants had their edges worn smooth. A once vibrant city was being silently digested by nature.

Fearing being crushed by collapsing walls or pillars, we tried to detour around the open areas as much as possible. Ming Shu and his wife could still manage, but frail A Xiang was utterly spent; climbing any higher might cost her life. Ming Shu had to leave Peter Huang behind to look after her, while the rest of us pushed on, most of us gasping for breath by the time we reached the Dharma Protector Hall.

Though I was relatively accustomed to the thin air, leaning against a wall to rest, my breathing suddenly grew heavy when I saw the murals in the hall. Fatty, wheezing, commented to me, "Old Hu, I never expected this place to be such a cultural dead zone for civilization. Such potent explicit pictures—if we showed these in Beijing, we'd be detained for sure."

The murals here depicted Esoteric couples engaging in dual cultivation, painted with a bold style and intense colors that made one blush. Moving further inside, the content of the murals took a sharp downturn, displaying the torments of hellish reincarnation—layer upon layer depicting the tortures of hell, scenes too gruesome to look upon. The Lama said this hall was forbidden territory centuries ago; ordinary people rarely made it past the entrance. Only clergy and the King himself could enter freely.

The former glory and the forbidden nature had all collapsed and weathered away. After catching our breath, we filed inside. The Cycle Temple behind the hall, being recessed internally, suffered slightly less from wind and rain erosion and was relatively well-preserved. The most prominent features in the temple were several large red pillars, each embedded with layers of oil lamps. The roof above was damaged, with several large holes exposing the sky. All the statues and other religious artifacts were gone, whether stolen or simply rotted into mud, we couldn't tell.

I looked around. The place was a wreck; there was no carving of the "Guge Silver Eye" anywhere. Ming Shu pointed upward: "It probably refers to this carving."

We looked up. The sun was high, its rays shooting down through the holes in the roof. Looking up made our eyes water, feeling dizzy, but we could see that the entire ceiling was one magnificent, vibrantly colored depiction—part carving, part painting. Although parts had peeled off and some were damaged by the collapse of the structure, about seventy-five percent remained intact.

At the center of this ceiling mural was a giant eyeball. The outer ring consisted of radiating totems divided into eight colors, each band featuring a different divine beast. The outermost ring contained dozens of nude khandroma (sky-walking mothers), each exquisitely graceful and unique. As expected, this was the ancient Esoteric Feng Shui coordinate: the "Guge Silver Eye."

I told Ming Shu, "Now you should bring out that ancient scripture for us to see. Without seeing it clearly, we won't figure out the exact location of the demon tower based on this coordinate alone."

Ming Shu found a large red pillar to lean against and sat down to catch his breath. A Dong produced an oxygen tube and gave him a few puffs. Only then could Ming Shu speak, reaching into his bag to feel for the scripture. Just then, there was a sharp crack. A pillar in the temple toppled, and everyone shouted, quickly scattering to take cover. The massive column crashed down. In the chaos, nobody noticed if anyone had been hit.

It turned out the base of the pillar Ming Shu had been leaning on had already crumbled. It looked stable when standing, but the moment he leaned on it, it collapsed with a roar. Fortunately, it fell outward. If it had fallen inward into the narrow hall and knocked down other pillars, people would surely have been crushed. Seeing the roof losing a major support column, although it hadn't completely fallen yet, no one dared to stay inside. Everyone wanted to get out first and figure things out in a safer spot outside.

As we moved toward the exit, we suddenly noticed that where the pillar had struck the earthen wall, a vast, dark space was exposed, seemingly a sealed secret chamber. As the wall collapsed, a wave of decay odor rushed out. It was said that Italians had found numerous caves of various functions in these ruins—a famous one being the headless mummified corpse cave, and another the weapon storage cave—but both were far from this "Cycle Temple." What lay inside the secret cave within this temple?

Fatty pulled out a flashlight and shone it inside. Everyone’s eyes were immediately drawn to the contents. Furthest inside was a three-eyed, four-armed bronze statue wearing a crown adorned with the Buddha's manifestation, seated cross-legged on a lotus pedestal supported by a beast. Its three gleaming silver eyes shone brightly against the statue's golden hue.

However, behind this three-eyed Buddha statue was a tightly shut black iron door, plastered all over with countless talismans and scriptures, as if something that must not be released were confined within.