Others might be different, but how could someone like Chu Yi—a tough man who never had a drink far from his lips and never batted an eye at slaying wolves—be so terrified? But seeing their posture, they weren't scattered randomly from chaos; instead, they were all facing one direction, prone on the ground, shivering uncontrollably. This struck me as even stranger! Was it not excessive panic, but rather some form of worship? Yet, it had barely been a minute since they crested the slope exiting the Bone Gulch; what could possibly happen in such a short time?

Thinking this, I quickened my pace. The moment I stepped out of the narrow ravine, I froze dead in my tracks—a hazy white light flickered and swayed in the northern sky. This strange radiance perfectly encircled the silver summit of the snowy peak, creating, for an instant, a sacred glow reminiscent of the sun and moon embracing in harmonious brilliance—the Jade Peak Buddha Light of the Kunlun Mountains, a phenomenon I’d heard about long ago, visible only to disciples deemed worthy.

Even I was awestruck by the sacred sight. Though not a Buddhist, I felt compelled to immediately kneel and pay homage. Just then, the others emerged from behind me, but before they could fully grasp what was happening, the magical light vanished back into the night. Ming Shu and the others only caught a glimpse, prompting them to stamp their feet and beat their chests in profound regret.

Shirley Yang also glanced up briefly and told the group, “Don’t regret it; that wasn’t the thousand-year Buddha Light at all! That was just a synchronous electrical discharge phenomenon occurring within the clouds; the cloud mass below the snowy mountain was too dense, causing this effect at night. The Buddha Light that appears once every thousand years doesn't show itself that easily!”

However, Chu Yi and the others firmly believed it was a holy vision of the Buddha Light, guaranteeing good fortune to all who witnessed it. He told us that this minor Buddha Light was common in the Karakoram, but the true thousand-year Grand Buddha Light only appeared atop the sacred Mount Kawagebo in his distant hometown of Yunnan; legend claimed it had flashed for only a few seconds about a thousand years ago, preserved in the scroll The Ten Stages of Self-Sovereignty. A living Buddha had prophesied it would reappear once more within the next decade, and as the time approached, many pilgrims would travel thousands of miles to worship beneath the sacred mountain.

Having just paid homage to the Buddha Light, the porters were invigorated, shouting as they gathered their oxen and horses. After checking the supplies and equipment—fortunately, not much was lost—we pressed on. When dawn broke, we found a gentle slope to set up camp; after resting for a day and a night, fully restored in spirit and strength, we prepared to enter the Shenluo Gully Glacier.

During this period, the vicious wolves had shown no trace, yet we knew they were lurking somewhere, watching us, so we dared not let our guard down for a single moment. This was especially true as, after two more days of advancing deeper into the mountains, we were about to enter an area even more perilous and mysterious—Shenluo Gully.

The Shenluo Gully Glacier is a unique ancient glacier at the world's lowest elevation, with its lowest point at only twenty-eight hundred meters. The glacier carves its way between two massive snow-capped mountains, extending several kilometers into the primeval forest below. Beneath the glacier, the forest is a dense tapestry of towering ancient trees, hosting countless rare flowers and exotic herbs, boasting rich flora and fauna from the alpine desert zone.

Entering the forest of Shenluo Gully solved the problems of high-altitude hypoxia and extreme cold, but new difficulties immediately arose: there were no paths whatsoever, making it impossible for the yaks and horses to descend the glacier, and we still had to cross a major ice embankment.

It seemed we would have to establish a supply camp here. The original plan was to leave only two porters guarding the supplies while the rest carried loads onto the glacier, but the encounter with the wolf pack created a latent threat; too few people left behind might not be able to protect the camp and livestock.

I didn't want Chu Yi and the local men to follow us into the mountain depths, uncertain of the dangers ahead; I truly did not wish to implicate others. But Chu Yi insisted on helping; digging up the Demon Kingdom's demon tower was an act of accumulating merit. If successful, Chu Yi planned to forgo sending his third son to a monastery for monastic training. Witnessing the treasure-peak Buddha Light had only bolstered his conviction. After much discussion, we finally agreed to leave four porters behind to guard the animals. They were all skilled wolf hunters, each armed with a rifle, and we supplied them with some explosives and detonators; four men should be sufficient.

The remaining eight of us formed a team. We wore diving suits underneath outer shell jackets and donned climbing helmets and protective gear. After distributing weapons and ammunition—two hunting rifles went to Fatty and Shirley Yang, while Peter Huang and I carried shotguns, Chu Yi had his rifle, and everyone except A Xiang carried a 9mm—we packed the necessary supplies, completed our final checks, and set off.

The gateway to the Shenluo Gully Glacier is what the locals call the "Great Ice Embankment." Descending was relatively easy; the slopes ranged from forty to sixty degrees, allowing us to rappel down the ropes almost like sliding down a chute. Returning, however, would likely take considerable effort.

Chu Yi led us to a spot where the embankment looked gentle, seemingly easy to descend, but it was riddled with fragile crevasses and ice pits. A person’s weight could crack the thin ice crust above, plunging them to their death below. Chu Yi recalled a narrow route he discovered years ago when he and the monks harvested herbs in Shenluo Gully; it was relatively the safest path.

We secured three long ropes down the embankment. Chu Yi took the lead, sliding down first, and the rest followed in sequence, successfully reaching the floor of Shenluo Gully beneath the embankment.

After descending, I raised my binoculars to survey the distance: endless sea of forest and snow-capped mountains. This glacier appeared to be a composite type, primarily ancient glacial ice mixed with modern glaciers formed by avalanches of varying ages. They were all separated and enveloped by the forest, featuring countless ice sinks, ice pits, ice ravines, and massive ice falls. In the forest at lower altitudes, the melted ice water converged into streams. God knows where that demon tower was buried.

Although this area wasn't entirely prone to avalanche danger, making too much noise in certain spots could awaken the silver deities of the snowy mountains. Thus, our guide Chu Yi advised everyone to engage the safeties on their weapons; no one was to fire until absolute safety was confirmed. If wild beasts attacked, we were to use cold steel.

We followed the glacier into the forest, advancing while cross-referencing the terrain to deduce the potential location of the demon tower. The Wheel Sect used to send people here for sacrificial rites as recently as a few hundred years ago; perhaps some relics remained. According to the secret text of the Wheel Sect, the precise location should be within the glacier encircled by four snow-capped mountains—what Tantric geomancy calls the Phoenix Divine Palace.

We walked in the forest for about two days this way. Continuing our advance that day, Chu Yi recounted the legends of Shenluo Gully and his own experiences harvesting herbs here years ago. According to Buddhist lore, this area was once an inland sea where a colossal conch shell at the bottom transformed into a demon whose magical power was divine. Because of it, nearby living beings suffered terribly until the Buddha subdued it by raising the sea into dry land and mountains with his Dharma. The conch demon god willingly converted to Buddhism and eventually became a Dharma protector. The shell it left behind after achieving Buddhahood supposedly transformed into this ancient Shenluo Gully Glacier.

This tale is not recorded in any canonical scripture and may be a fabrication by predecessors, but it aligns with the nature of common Buddhist legends. Buddhism is inherently inclusive; any demon or monster can achieve Buddhahood if they forsake slaughter, leading to the incorporation of local divine beings and demons as protectors in Buddhist narratives.

As we spoke, we arrived before a vast ice waterfall. Chu Yi stopped everyone and pointed to it, saying, “That ice slab up ahead, which was just below the waterfall, has a main peak of a snowy mountain above it. More than ten years ago, I climbed up this waterfall to gather an eighty-eight-flavored Pearl Lingzhi Mushroom. But the terrain here is treacherously steep; I failed to pick the herb and nearly fell to my death. If you are looking for a place surrounded by four snow-capped mountains, this is it, because I clearly saw four gigantic peaks encircling this spot when I was gathering herbs. There are many snowy mountains in the Karakoram—one to the east, one to the west—but finding them connected is rare. In my knowledge, this is the only place. However, I never dared enter this basin before, as legend calls it the center of the Sea of Calamity. We must be extremely careful as we enter.”

I could also see that the atmosphere here was unusual, independent of geomancy. Just looking at the millions of tons of snow on the massive peaks sent a chill down my spine. Fortunately, the forest belt between the glaciers was wide. We bypassed the ice waterfall, traversing through the forest to enter, and unless some major mishap occurred, we wouldn't trigger an avalanche.

In the heart of the forest lay a section of undulating glacier where the altitude abruptly increased. The glacier was above the snow line. It appeared that thousands or tens of thousands of years ago, this place was either a high-mountain glacial lake or a basin. Indeed, it was surrounded by four towering snow peaks of similar scale—the "Dragon's Peak," the very spine of heaven and earth. The demon tower, presumably housing an evil deity, might be frozen within this glacier mass.

Seeing that we finally had a promising lead, everyone’s spirits lifted, and they eagerly rushed forward, determined to find the Nine-Story Demon Tower before dark. The ice here was slick as glass, like a mirror. Peter Huang, accustomed to the south, had never been in such a freezing, snowy environment and struggled to adapt. Moving even slightly fast caused him to slip and fall several times, nearly shattering his tailbone, forcing Fatty and Chu Yi to support him as we walked.

Just as we were about to proceed further, I took a headcount and realized someone was missing—Han Shuna. This glacier was riddled with crevasses, ice pits, and sinks; if she had genuinely fallen in, it would be disastrous. Ice pits are manageable, but if she fell into a sink, there was no way to retrieve her from above, and finding a track back was difficult on the ice. Furthermore, beneath the great snow mountains, we dared not call her name, and even A Xiang couldn't see through the ice layer to check the situation.

We had no choice but to leave Peter Huang to watch the spot while the rest of us spread out and searched backward along our path. After changing direction twice, we finally discovered a crushed ice pit (this pit is a geographical term, referring to the hollow gaps within a glacier, shaped like a basin or bowl). I shone my wolf-eye flashlight inside. Han Shuna had fallen in and was unconscious. We whispered her name softly, but received no response. By my estimation, the pit was seven or eight meters deep.

No one knew why she had deviated from the path to end up here. Seeing his wife fallen below with her fate unknown, Ming Shu paced frantically. I consoled him, saying not to worry; it wasn't too deep, and she was wearing full protective gear. At most, she was just severely startled into unconsciousness upon falling. We could just pull her up; it wouldn't be a major incident.

I started preparing the ropes to descend myself when Shirley Yang tossed a cold flare into the opening first, hoping to illuminate the terrain and avoid cracking an interconnected ice seam. Unexpectedly, the descending flare lit up the four walls of the ice cellar. Everyone peered down and gasped. Frozen within the ice walls were numerous corpses dressed in ancient robes and archaic hats, all maintaining a standing, bowed posture, forming a circle as if they were still alive, all looking down at the unconscious Han Shuna. What we saw was merely the outermost layer; who knew how many more frozen bodies lay deep within the ice.