The Tibetan Bear-Horse, or Zangma Xiong, was distinct from other bears due to its facial structure, which bore a slight resemblance to a horse, lending it a fearsome and ugly appearance, hence the name. The one that tumbled down from above us, waving its claws in the moonlight, cartwheeled and slammed into a rocky protrusion on the cliff face.

This Zanggou, or Bone-Hiding Gully, was essentially a massive fissure split open in the Gaqing Slope. The cliffs on either side were steep and narrow, causing the Tibetan Bear-Horse, after striking the stone on one side, to alter its trajectory and collide with a withered thorn tree clinging to the opposing sheer wall. The immense force of a thousand jun of falling weight was incredible; it instantly snapped the deadwood trunk, and the bear’s belly was ripped open in a gaping 'O' shape by a sharp branch. Before it even hit the ground, it was disemboweled, bringing down a large, dark mass of splintered wood and rock with a resounding crash.

Because the immense bear hadn't fallen straight down, it was difficult for those below to gauge its precise landing spot. Furthermore, the spectacle was so bizarre that many people were stunned into inaction, completely forgetting the need to dodge.

At that critical juncture, someone shouted loudly, "Quickly, back away! Press your backs against the wall—do not move!" Fatty, Chu Yi, Peter Huang, and a few others finally snapped back to awareness. They grabbed Uncle Ming, his wife and child, and several porters whose legs had gone weak with shock, and scrambled toward the ancient trees near the edge of the cliff wall.

Almost simultaneously, the body of the Tibetan Bear-Horse smashed onto the gully floor. Inley Yang and I were still relatively far away, but we felt a blast of wind hit our faces. The bear’s carcass struck like a heavy bomb, causing the nearby ground to tremble three times. When we looked, the Tibetan Bear-Horse had been smashed into a pancake of bear meat, a mangled mass of bloody pulp.

Immediately following, more loose stones rained down from overhead. Just as the guide Chu Yi had warned earlier, even a pebble falling from a thousand meters up, no larger than a fingernail clipping, could kill a person. Everyone pressed tightly against the rock face behind the ancient trees, daring not to move. There was nowhere left to hide; all they could do was pray to the Bodhisattva for protection.

Fortunately, the spot where that Tibetan Bear-Horse had leaped off the cliff was somewhat distant from us, resulting in no casualties. All the local people were baffled as to what had just happened. Had the ancient legend come true? Or had that ritual sacrifice begun again? Yet, even the "Reincarnation Sect" had been wiped out hundreds of years ago, ceasing to exist in the world. This Tibetan Bear-Horse...

The falling debris from above gradually lessened. Luckily, the yaks and horses were not spooked into bolting; they simply stared wide-eyed, frozen in place, perhaps too overwhelmed by the sudden event to know how to react.

Just as we thought everything had concluded, Fatty suddenly pointed upward and exclaimed, "Mother of God, the Kamikaze Brigade... they’re coming again!"

Before I could even look up, a horned beast smashed down, its horns plunging directly into the back of one of our horses. Combined with the massive force of the impact, both the horse and our own mount were instantly broken in limb and bone, dying on the spot. Only then did we clearly see that what had fallen was a Kunlun White-Necked Long-Horned Goat.

Over a dozen more identical long-horned goats dropped from the gully rim in quick succession. This panicked the remaining horses. Since there were no sturdy trees in this gully to tether them securely, their ropes were loosely tied. Several horses let out long whinnies, snapped their tethers, and bolted forward heedlessly along the winding Bone-Hiding Gully.

The slowest to react, the yaks, finally became agitated as well, following the horses and running forward with lowered heads. The thunder of hooves and the panicked cries of the livestock gradually faded down the deep ravine, leaving behind only a dull, rumbling echo.

We could not imagine what chaos was unfolding above the Bone-Hiding Gully, nor did we have time to speculate. Because we had traveled all day, everyone was exhausted. Chu Yi and the others planned to eat, drink some liquor, and then unload the yaks, so some supplies, most importantly the ginger juice needed for ice-chipping, were still strapped to their backs. Though we carried explosives as a contingency, using them on a glacier was tantamount to suicide.

Furthermore, yaks are highly revered by Tibetans. At the time, Chu Yi’s family was relatively wealthy, owning only three yaks and twenty sheep. Losing ten yaks at once would have been a massive financial blow.

Seeing that no more beasts were falling from above, we disregarded the immediate danger. Splitting into two teams—myself, the guide Chu Yi, and Fatty, armed with our weapons—we immediately set off in pursuit of the herd. The rest of the group would pack up their gear and follow behind.

Following the winding Bone-Hiding Gully forward, the ground was churned up by the passage of hooves, revealing many brittle, decaying bones embedded in the dirt. Only occasionally could a faint, ghost-light phosphorescence be seen twinkling. One could imagine the terrifying scene in this gully long ago, when the ground at night would have been covered in a constellation of ghost lights amongst countless white bones. The surrounding scrub grass grew higher than a man’s waist, mixed with dead vines and broken branches, making the atmosphere all the more desolate and chill.

We chased for a long distance, but the sounds ahead and behind us faded. We could neither hear the running of the livestock nor see the lights of the rear party’s illumination tools. We had no choice but to stop and catch our breath. Chu Yi took out his leather flask of liquor, and the three of us each took several long swallows to bolster our courage. Fatty then passed around a round of cigarettes.

I asked Chu Yi what on earth was going on with the Tibetan Bear-Horse and those long-horned goats jumping off the cliff to commit suicide—events that hadn't happened in years, yet we managed to witness them.

Chu Yi shook his head. "I haven't entered the Bone-Hiding Gully in nearly ten years. No one else here has been here either. Before, aside from ancient legends, nobody had ever witnessed this firsthand. I cannot fathom why such strange events would happen the moment we arrive."

After a brief discussion, the three of us continued to follow the course of the deep gully, searching for the yaks and horses. We knew we couldn't catch up quickly, and we worried that if the rear party got too far behind, we wouldn't be there to assist if anything changed. We slowed our pace.

Ahead, the undergrowth by the path became thicker. Guide Chu Yi suddenly became alert, pointing to the wild grass by the roadside to me and Fatty. There was a strange odor emanating from the weeds—a combination of rotting corpse and rank, wild animal musk, so pungent it was suffocating.

Fatty held his sporting rifle, I gripped my Remington shotgun, and Chu Yi readied his favored hunting rifle. We were all in a state of combat readiness, prepared to push aside the tangled grass to see what lay within.

But before we could get close, a female wolf suddenly bolted from the grass, leaping into the air and lunging directly at us. This sudden attack was both swift and vicious. Chu Yi, standing at the very front, reacted faster. Without firing, he drew his Tibetan knife and brought it down in a single cleaving strike. With a sharp swish, the wolf’s head was split perfectly down the centerline of its nose, killing it instantly.

Fatty and I couldn't help but cheer for such a fast and accurate blade work.

Chu Yi laughed heartily. "Being the captain of the Karameer Wolf-Hunting Team isn't achieved just by chance. This wolf was unlucky to try ambushing us today."

Chu Yi suddenly stopped talking and raised his rifle, indicating with his gesture that there were other wolves behind the grass. We raised our weapons and parted the mass of tangled growth. Behind the foliage, a large hole appeared in the cliff wall, filled with countless fuzzy shapes. As the grass covering the entrance was pushed aside, the dim moonlight shone in, revealing a large nest of wolf cubs, exposed to the light, huddled together trembling in fear. Perhaps the mother wolf had also been startled by the stampeding herd of cattle. Seeing people approach, she had rushed out to attack, intending to protect her young. This was a wolf den.

Chu Yi, who rarely went without his barley wine, was feeling the effects of the alcohol, and a killing urge took hold. He once again drew his Tibetan knife, intending to plunge into the den and stab all the cubs to death.

Fatty hadn't had a chance to shine during the mother wolf’s ambush, but now he was eager to take the spotlight. He stopped Chu Yi, saying, "Good steel should be used for the main blade; good wine should be served at the state banquet. Why bother with all that trouble for these little pups? Watch Uncle Fatty do this." With that, he pulled three connected sticks of dynamite from his coat, lit the fuse with the cigarette dangling from his mouth, and with a flick of his wrist, tossed them into the wolf den.

We quickly scrambled to the side. Before long, we heard the blast from the den, followed by a plume of thick smoke.

After the smoke cleared, we entered the den for a final sweep, finishing off any survivors with a blade. The interior of this cave was astonishingly large; there were even fragments of bronze artifacts scattered around. It appeared to be a very secret location within the Bone-Hiding Gully used for holding sacrificial rites. However, because it had later been occupied by these wolves, much of the material and markings were destroyed and unrecognizable. We discovered a large quantity of animal remains in the cave, some not yet fully picked clean. Then it dawned on us: these wolves had exploited the unique terrain of the Bone-Hiding Gully. Since wolves are not naturally suited for running in high-altitude mountainous terrain and struggle to chase down prey, they had devised a method to drive their quarry to the rim of the gully on the Gaqing Slope. Without prior knowledge, it would be nearly impossible to spot the deep fissure running through the hillside from a distance; by the time one reached the edge and realized the danger, it would be too late to stop. The packs of wolves driven from the grasslands into the mountains had essentially disappeared, cornered. Unexpectedly, they had survived by utilizing the ruins of this ancient sacrificial passage.

After leaving the wolf den, Fatty and Chu Yi engaged in a heated discussion. It seemed logical that the unlucky Tibetan Bear-Horse had been swept up accidentally while the wolves were driving the long-horned goats. Faced with certain death, the Bear-Horse might have gone into a frenzy; a dozen ferocious wolves might not have been able to subdue it normally. But cornered, the bear probably intended to put as much distance as possible between itself and the pack, resulting in it falling into the deep gully and becoming a bear-meat pancake.

I wanted to interject and offer a few thoughts, but then a sudden worry struck me: the vicious wolves hunting on the Gaqing Slope—we didn't know their numbers, but they would surely circle back toward the direction we came from to the Bone-Hiding Gully. According to Chu Yi, the gully ahead connected to the Shenluo Ancient Glacier, a place with steep ice fields, meaning this was the only viable route in. Therefore, the wolf pack wouldn't return from that direction to drag away the smashed long-horned goats.

The yaks and horses that had bolted forward were likely safe from wolf attack, but the people following us were completely unprepared. I had encountered the vicious wolves of the Tibetan regions before; those creatures were uncanny and incredibly cunning. If Uncle Ming and the others were ambushed, there was no guarantee they wouldn't suffer casualties. I voiced this concern to Fatty and Chu Yi. The three of us immediately turned back. After all, human lives were at stake; the lost yaks could wait for the moment.

We hadn't gone far when we saw flickering lights. Inley Yang and the others had caught up. They had heard the explosion and, assuming we were in some kind of danger, had rushed to provide support.

Seeing the two groups reunited, I finally felt a measure of relief. But then I noticed Chu Yi had already raised his rifle. In the direction he was aiming, several vicious wolves appeared. They stopped just outside effective weapon range, not advancing further. In the darkness, we could only vaguely make out their glowing green eyes and indistinct shapes.

Everyone with a weapon raised their guns, preparing to fire. I quickly stopped them. "These wolves are testing our firepower. We only have two sporting rifles capable of long-range engagement. Don't fire easily. Wait until they get closer, then fire a coordinated volley." We had the numbers and the guns; even a pack of mountain wolves wouldn't number more than a few dozen. As long as we were prepared, we shouldn't fear them.

Suddenly, a white shadow appeared in the distance, its fur rippling in the night wind. My heart sank immediately, and the memory of fighting the wolf pack that night at the Great Phoenix Temple flashed vividly into my mind, as if it had happened yesterday. Damn it—enemies never fail to meet. After ten years apart, here in the depths of the Kunlun Mountains, where Tibet, Qinghai, and Xinjiang meet, I had encountered that White-Haired Wolf King again. It was still alive. Having just slaughtered so many of its cubs, the mutual hatred between us had deepened immeasurably.

I whispered to Fatty, "Are you confident shooting from here? To defeat the enemy, first capture the king. If we take down the Wolf King, these others won't pose a threat. It would be best to take it down in one shot."

Fatty grinned. "Child's play, Commander Hu. You just wait to skin this white-furred rascal."

Saying that, he raised his sporting rifle, his finger already on the trigger as he aimed. I felt a surge of joy. If we could eliminate it here, it would settle a long-standing worry for me. But just as Fatty’s rifle tracked the target and was about to fire, the White Wolf had already slipped into a blind spot of the shot. The other wolves followed, vanishing into the darkness. Fatty cursed, forced to lower his weapon.

The wolves knew that charging straight into the gunfire in the narrow gully was suicidal, so they quietly retreated. But I knew clearly that they must be grinding their teeth with hatred for us. Their departure now was only a temporary withdrawal. Given any opportunity, they would attack without hesitation.

However, we had no choice; we couldn't pursue them. We reassembled the group and continued forward, searching for the stray yaks. After trekking for a long time in the Bone-Hiding Gully, everyone felt drowsy and worn out. Finally, on a slope near the gully mouth, we located the yaks—they were grazing peacefully.

Guide Chu Yi and the four porters were ecstatic to see the yaks unharmed, forgetting their fatigue as they hurried up the slope. We followed slowly behind. When I finally reached the top of the slope, I froze. This scene seemed even more bizarre than a Tibetan Bear-Horse falling from the sky. Next to the yaks lay five figures; their clothing identified them as Chu Yi and his men. They all looked as though they had suffered a massive shock, collapsed on the ground, trembling violently all over.