"Erluhai City," also known as the "Ten Cities of Terrifying Might," along with the "Gate of Disaster," are place names existing only in the ancient legends of Kunlun, never recorded in official histories. They are merely whispered to be hidden in the deepest reaches of Kunlun. Did they truly ever exist? The ancient city depicted in the murals of the "Xian King’s Tomb" might very well be "Erluhai City." But what connection does this den of northern demons have with the "Bottomless Ghost Hole" deep within the deserts of Xinjiang? Could the massive "eyeball" altar be found there? We currently lack any certainty.

We even have to prepare for the worst: legend says that the ancient, malevolent "Erluhai City," just like "Jingjue Ancient City," vanished mysteriously in a single night. That is why the mighty "Demon Kingdom" collapsed so swiftly. What catastrophe or upheaval occurred there remains entirely unknown.

I suddenly recalled what Zhang Yingchuan had said: "The end is the beginning; find the middle path where water lies." The middle path refers to the Doctrine of the Mean, the righteous way, or perhaps a path for self-preservation. Pressed by an avalanche, trapped in despair, we unexpectedly found a brighter prospect—a more mysterious passage. This long, narrow incline descended into the deepest parts of the Dragon’s Peak Glacier. There should be a lake or an underground river. Where there is water, there must be a way through. Thinking this brought a surge of confidence.

The group rested for about half an hour on this gentle slope. Worried about the safety near the Demon Tower, we pushed on downward. This frozen earth tunnel, reinforced with earthen steps, branched out everywhere beneath the ground, a network as dense as a spider’s web. We dared not wander down the minor paths, sticking only to the main central route. Occasionally, we spotted various charms and markings, among them numerous "eyeball" patterns.

Shirley Yang leaned in and said, "If the Samsara Sect only wanted to dig through to the Gate of Disaster, there would have been no need to bore the tunnel all the way into the Nine-Story Demon Tower. Furthermore, looking at the condition of these subterranean tunnels, they weren't all built during the same period; some sections might be hundreds, perhaps even thousands of years old. This probably relates to their belief that the abyss is a source of power. But have you ever considered why the Samsara Sect bothered excavating the Demon Tower?"

I pondered for a moment. "This matter is indeed peculiar. The Demon Tower is a place dedicated to an evil god; it shouldn't be profaned. Could the Samsara Sect be trying to retrieve something vitally important from inside? Besides the Glacial Crystal Corpse, what else could be in that tower?"

We walked on, debating, but we couldn't reach any satisfying conclusion, so we dropped the subject. After continuing down the inclined path for some distance, we reached a vertical ice abyss. Although the ice wall was slightly slanted, to our eyes, the angle offered no discernible difference from a sheer drop. Getting down was impossible.

We could already see the bottom of the ice abyss from here. At the deepest point, countless specks of faint blue luminescence converged into a softly glittering river, winding beneath the glacier. Because the ice wall had a slight incline, when we first tracked the "Snow Maitreya," the group looking down from the entrance of the frozen earth tunnel couldn't help but exclaim in awe: "It’s so beautiful, just like the Milky Way." Perhaps there were crystals below, or bioluminescent organisms like jellyfish in the river, creating this dreamlike spectacle.

Near the tunnel entrance, there were remnants of shattered wooden beams. Hundreds of years ago, there was probably a wooden bridge leading downward, but time had taken its toll, causing it to collapse. The lumber likely fell into the river below. I estimated the height: this was already the lowest point of the glacier. We were about thirty meters above that shimmering, faint blue river. This distance was manageable for a direct rappel using a long rope.

I told the others, "Since there is running water, there must be a way out. We can use climbing gear to descend..."

Uncle Ming raised an objection. "This ice wall is smoother than a mirror. Thirty meters doesn't sound high, but falling would certainly smash a man to pieces. Let’s look for another way; sliding down the ice wall with a rope is far too dangerous."

Fatty looked down and immediately felt dizzy, quickly agreeing with Uncle Ming. "Better safe than sorry. There are so many branching tunnels back there; there must be another exit. Of course, I, Fatty, don't really care—if I get smashed flat, I’ll just be a fine fellow again in twenty years. But we have the old and the young with us now; we need to prioritize Uncle Ming’s safety."

I warned Fatty, "Commander Wang, don't pick the wrong side. Why take the long way when we have a shortcut? What if we get lost in those tunnels and can't find our way out? We don't need to worry about Uncle Ming and the others. As per our prior agreement, we’ve dug up the Nine-Story Demon Tower and found the Glacial Crystal Corpse. From now on, we go our separate ways. If we survive, we can settle the accounts when we get back to Beijing. Uncle Ming, when you get home, get your antique artifacts ready; we won't be polite then."

I said that only to scare Uncle Ming a bit. He was indeed worried we would abandon him and Ah Xiang. After much deliberation, he realized that following the three Mojin Xiaowei was the only likely way out of this glacier. Moreover, this expedition had cost us manpower and wiped out our capital; perhaps they could find something even more valuable in this "Gate of Disaster" below. Of course, all this depended on survival first. Thus, he insisted they must not split up, believing their chances of surviving the disaster would increase if they stayed together.

Seeing that I had managed Uncle Ming, I started preparing the ropes. I would rappel down first, using the long rope in conjunction with ice axes. On both sides of the river valley beneath the ice abyss, numerous scattered black, decayed logs lay about. The riverbanks were rich with veins of ice crystal stone, which reflected the faint blue light from the river, providing enough visibility without needing any artificial light source.

I surveyed the surroundings, finding no immediate danger, and signaled for those above to follow. By the time Fatty slid down with a loud whoop, considerable time had passed. From excavating the wooden tower to fighting off the wolf pack and finally reaching the depths of the ice abyss, the entire group had rested for less than half an hour. Now, everyone was inevitably hungry and exhausted.

Shirley Yang told me, "We must find a safe place to rest for the night and let Uncle Ming and Ah Xiang recover their strength. Otherwise, if we keep going, someone really might die from exhaustion."

I nodded in agreement. The group searched the vicinity for a place to set up camp. We first went to the edge of the underground river and looked down. The water there was very calm and extremely clear. There were many freshwater jellyfish in the water, and their faint blue light was what illuminated the scene. However, though these creatures looked beautiful, they were actually quite dangerous. If they gathered in large numbers, the bioelectricity they emitted could instantly paralyze large animals. Shirley Yang warned everyone to stay far away from the riverbank and strictly avoid touching the water.

This river valley seemed endless. Following the current, we soon discovered a cave beneath a cliff face strewn with crystal stones. Since we were deep underground, anything falling from above would be disastrous if it hit someone. A cave at the base of the sheer cliff naturally became the most ideal camping location.

The mouth of the cave was quite wide and spacious, showing signs of artificial excavation. However, due to its age, it was hard to confirm. Turning on my flashlight, I looked from the entrance inward: patches of crystalline light flickered everywhere. The interior, just like the outside, contained many transparent crystals, but it seemed extremely tortuous and deep. Standing outside, one could not gauge the extent of the darkness within.

This cave did not seem like a place frequented by wild beasts, but for safety's sake, I took Fatty in first to scout it out. Walking less than five or six paces into the cave brought us to a turn. The space beyond was roughly the size of a room, about twenty square meters. If there were no immediate dangers, this would indeed be a very suitable place to camp.

Fatty and I swept our "Wolf Eyes" everywhere inside the cave. There were some old stone altars on the ground, and in the corner lay a pile of bleached cow skulls. On one of the altars stood a black, humanoid wooden idol, about a foot high. My heart stirred—this was very likely a place of worship for the Samsara Sect. This small black wooden figure, in this form, seemed similar to the "Black Tiger Altar" of the heretical cult mentioned by Iron Rod Lama.

I signaled for Fatty to call Ah Xiang and the others in, asking Ah Xiang to check the cave for anything unclean. Ah Xiang examined the entire cave and reported, "Nothing. No spirits, no ghosts." She also said the small black wooden figure was fine.

Since everything seemed safe, and everyone was utterly exhausted, pressing on to find another spot was unlikely to yield anything better. We settled down to rest in the cave, building a fire to heat our rations.

On the innermost stone wall of this crystal cave, there were some natural small holes, about the size of a fist. However, even a child couldn't squeeze through. We used stones to plug up these holes, preventing snakes from slithering in, which would make the place much safer.

Everyone gathered around the fire to eat, except Uncle Ming, who was sighing mournfully, unable to swallow a bite. He told Ah Xiang to take out his ancestral "Thirteen-Whiskered Porcelain Cat," shaking his head incessantly, then picked up a stone and smashed the porcelain cat into pieces.

Fatty, watching from the side, felt a pang of regret. He said, "If you didn't want it, you should have given it to me! That big flowery cat must be several hundred years old? It’s an artifact, after all. What a waste to smash it. As for smashing things, I smashed more than you during the 'Smash the Four Olds' period, but now? Aren't I a bit regretful too?"

I said to Uncle Ming, "Not long ago, you were still worshiping this porcelain cat. It was said to be very efficacious, and not a single one of its whiskers was broken. So why did we lose so many men in the Demon Tower? Did we not check the almanac and run into bad luck?"

Uncle Ming let out a long sigh and confessed the truth: "A man who has spent as many years sailing as I have believes most strongly in these things, and fears inauspicious signs the most. The older I get, the more timid I become. Just for good luck, I had glued the whiskers of this ancestral porcelain cat so firmly that they couldn't be broken off." He seemed angry, as if arguing with himself, waving his hand and sweeping the shattered pieces of the cat toward the wall.

Coincidentally, while the body of the cat was broken, its head remained intact. It rolled to the wall, facing Uncle Ming squarely. Illuminated by the firelight, the pair of cat eyes gleamed sharply, seeming almost alive. This made Uncle Ming even more uncomfortable. He muttered a curse, "The old porcelain cat is almost turning into a spirit! I’ll make you stop staring at me." Saying this, he picked up the stone again, intending to go over and smash the porcelain cat’s head to pieces.

I started to move to stop him—what was the point? Was it worth getting angry at an object? But before I could speak, Uncle Ming’s body suddenly stiffened, and he froze, standing stock-still.

His back was to us; I didn't know what he was looking at. I signaled, and Fatty immediately cocked his gun. Shirley Yang pulled Ah Xiang to a slightly farther corner.

I stood up and looked at Uncle Ming, whose eyes were locked onto the cat's head. I asked him what was wrong. Trembling, Uncle Ming said, "Brother Hu, there's a snake there, look over there." Uncle Ming had been bitten by a venomous snake in Southeast Asia and was terrified of them.

I thought we had checked everywhere just now; there couldn't be a snake, and what was there to be afraid of? Then I looked in the direction Uncle Ming was pointing. Next to the porcelain cat’s head was one of the holes I had plugged with a stone earlier. The stone was trembling slightly, as if something inside was trying to push its way out.

I shielded Uncle Ming behind me and drew my entrenching tool. Whether it was a snake or a rat emerging from inside, I intended to flatten it with one swing. Shirley Yang and the others also raised their flashlights, shining them from behind onto the spot.

The stone shifted a few more times before finally dropping to the ground. I swung the entrenching tool down, but the blow stopped abruptly halfway. It wasn't a snake, but a green vine. In an instant, a red flower the size of a washbasin bloomed.

How could a flower grow here? Before I could process what was happening, I heard Ah Xiang suddenly shriek from behind. I was focusing entirely on examining the strange occurrence, and her cry nearly made me drop the tool. I had never imagined that the sound a woman makes when pushed to the absolute limit of fear could be like that.

Shirley Yang quickly asked Ah Xiang what was wrong—if she had seen some... thing?