The Elorhai City, shrouded in twilight, hosted countless scattered points of light. Within the faint, ethereal mist, they appeared exceptionally hazy, as if the residents of this ancient city had already lit their lamps, preparing to welcome the coming night. Yet, the city was dead silent, devoid of the slightest breath of vitality. After only a few glances, a cold sweat broke out on me. Legend held that the inhabitants of this city had vanished inexplicably, and even the succeeding Reincarnation Sect had been extinct for hundreds of years. How, then, could there still be the glow of lamplight here? A city capable of housing tens of thousands, yet utterly still—it was either a "dead city" or a "ghost city."

Just as I stood there in astonishment, the others finally reached the summit of the Green Rock. Like me, seeing this ancient city, presenting such a colossal contradiction between "death" and "life," they too were speechless for a long time.

Legend spoke of Pompeii in the Roman era, a city destroyed overnight by volcanic catastrophe. Later archaeological excavations revealed that when the residents perished, they were all caught in the midst of their normal daily lives within their homes; the posture of Pompeii was forever frozen at the moment of its destruction.

Yet, the ancient city before our eyes seemed to have seen its entire populace evaporate. Only the honeycomb-like Elorhai City stood brilliantly illuminated in the dusk, preserved so perfectly it felt as if it had shrugged off the shackles of time, remaining unchanged across millennia. What cataclysm had struck this place? Even contemplating it sent shivers down my spine.

We could not help but wonder if this was a Gui Shi (Ghost Stinging), but after questioning Ah Xiang, the answer was negative. This devil’s lair truly existed; it was not a Gui Shi conjured by the specters of the dead.

As we were about to discuss how to enter the city, we suddenly heard the waters of the Wind Erosion Lake churning below the cliff. It was not yet fully dark. Looking down from our height, the glass-like transparency of the entire lake was clear to see, albeit somewhat blurred and indistinct. The battle between the Old White-Bearded Fish and the two Striped Jiao had concluded; hundreds of thousands of White-Bearded Fish, in an effort to aid their progenitor, fearlessly rammed their bodies against the Striped Jiao beneath the water.

The foreheads of the White-Bearded Fish all bore a crimson marking—apparently the hardest part of their bodies. Averaging about half a meter in length, launching themselves out of the water could easily make a man cough up blood. Although the pair of Striped Jiao were fierce and tenacious, being struck by ten or so large fish hardly seemed to bother them. But they could not withstand the relentless bombardment from tens of thousands of great fish, combined with the Old Fish’s opportunistic counterattacks. The Striped Jiao could not hold out and were forced to leap back into the forest along the shore. Trees were knocked askew by their collision as they vanished in an instant.

The battered Old Fish floated in the lake, having lost considerable flesh and scales to the Striped Jiao’s bites. A large chunk of its gill was torn away. Its fry and descendants crowded around, plugging its wounds with their mouths. More and more White-Bearded Fish gathered, and in moments, they reformed their Fish Formation. A dense, black mass obscured the surface of the Wind Erosion Lake.

I watched the Fish Formation slowly sink toward the bottom, realizing that this kind of intense conflict must occur frequently between the White-Bearded Fish and the Striped Jiao. The Striped Jiao seemed intent on exterminating the fish school entirely, rather than merely securing food. But with the school led by a King Fish, even the powerful Striped Jiao could not gain a significant advantage. Was their dispute merely about seizing this rare Wind Erosion Lake? What was so special about this lake? It might involve ancient secrets, but we could not dwell on that now. Before the darkness fully descended, we ought to enter Elorhai City.

Inley Yang asked me if we should enter the city immediately. Though lights flickered within, the stillness was eerie—a strange phenomenon that inspired dread.

I told Inley Yang, “How can one catch a tiger cub without entering the lair? Since Ah Xiang says there’s nothing unclean in this city, I figure after all the hardships we’ve endured, there’s nothing left to fear. However, this ancient city truly exudes an evil aura from within and without, seemingly concealing unimaginable things. We just have to accept the bizarre. Let’s go straight in.”

So, the group took our remaining supplies and searched for a path into the city. The ancient city, resembling a giant beehive, was sunk deep into the earth. The surrounding cylindrical white walls seemed merely ornamental, lacking significant defensive function, yet the scale was immense, making it tiresome to circumvent. Strange wisps of thin mist drifted through the city. The dwellings here were all caves carved into the honeycomb structure, interconnected in a complex maze. Fearing we would get lost, we dared not venture inside rashly, only glancing into a few openings. The deeper we looked, the more uneasy we became.

There wasn't a single human shadow in the city, yet seven or eight out of every ten households had lit their lamps. Moreover, these weren't perpetual flames; they were fueled by ancient combustibles made of dried animal dung mixed with grease, and they seemed to have been lit only recently. Though the cave structures of the city were ancient, they certainly didn't appear dilapidated like thousand-year-old ruins. Some artifacts and animal hides inside looked almost new, and there was even a half-finished skull drinking cup.

Time truly seemed frozen in this city, the point of fixation being the exact moment its residents disappeared. We conferred: wandering through the city in the dark would make it easy to lose our way. Furthermore, the streets of Elorhai City, including its governmental, religious, sacrificial institutions, and key structures, were likely deep within the great honeycomb. With thousands of entrances and exits entirely unlike conventional city layouts, the safest course now was to wait until dawn to examine the honeycomb structure from the periphery, find a shortcut to the central altar, and absolutely avoid stumbling around blindly inside. We must be resolute when the time calls for audacity, but equally cautious when prudence is due.

We had planned to spend the night on the city wall, but as we passed a cave opening beneath the wall, Fatty, like a hound catching the scent of a rabbit, sniffed the air and declared, “What is that fragrant smell? Smells like someone’s stewing beef at home. Damn the Bull Demon King’s sister, this has really struck Fatty’s weak spot.”

Upon hearing Fatty, I, too, detected the aroma of cooked beef wafting from that cave dwelling. I had just been worrying that our dwindling food supply wouldn't be enough to share—I had told everyone by the Wind Erosion Lake that we could manage for two or three more days, which was meant to reassure the group, but in reality, it wasn't enough for a single meal. Smelling meat now, it was natural we had to investigate. We took the lead, Fatty and I, and squeezed into the cave. Inside the stone cauldron, there was indeed yak beef stewing to a perfect tenderness, bubbling with heat—truly fragrant, savory, and richly seasoned.

Fatty swallowed hard and said to me, “Commander Hu, what we wish for comes true. Though clarified butter is sweet, it isn’t as sustaining as tsampa. Tsampa is good, but not as filling as yak beef. Is this pot of beef reserved for us? Can we… can we eat it?”

A pot of freshly cooked beef stewing in an ancient city devoid of any inhabitants was something that defied common sense. It reminded me of the fruit that old woman offered me when I was first assigned to the countryside, in the area of Ox Heart Mountain where the nine dragons protected the jade lotus. Could this also be a ghost market set up by spirits, an illusion made of frogs and earthworms that would cause stomach illness if consumed? Thinking this, I hesitated. The meat’s provenance was unknown; it was best not to eat it. Although it looked like beef, perhaps human flesh was boiling in the pot.

Uncle Ming was also famished, his front sticking to his back, and he stared fixedly at the yak beef with Fatty. In that short time, they had likely consumed several pieces with their eyes alone. I asked Inley Yang what his thoughts were on this pot of meat.

Inley Yang shook his head decisively and confirmed once more with Ah Xiang: this pot of boiling yak beef was completely genuine, with no additives whatsoever.

Hearing Ah Xiang, Fatty could wait no longer. Unmindful of the heat, he grabbed a piece and shoved it into his mouth: “I will sacrifice myself for the greater good and taste it for the comrades first. If there’s poison or medicine in the meat, let it all strike me.” As he spoke, he was already swallowing seven or eight chunks of beef up to his neck; we couldn't stop him.

We waited a moment, and seeing that he suffered no ill effects after finishing, and since Fatty had already devoured half the pot himself, I felt we couldn't observe any longer. If we waited, even the lukewarm leftovers would be gone. Since there was no poison, what was there to fear? So, the others resolved themselves: better to die struggling than to starve to death. We all used our paratrooper knives to pick out the beef and eat.

As I ate, I suddenly remembered something and said to Uncle Ming, “Tomorrow at dawn, we plan to venture deep into that great honeycomb. We don’t know what dangers lie within; it likely won’t be peaceful. You and Ah Xiang are safer staying outside the city. Wait for us to finish, and then come out to meet us.”

Uncle Ming, with his mouth stuffed full of beef, couldn't speak. In his urgency, he swallowed the pieces whole, choking until his eyes rolled back white. Only then did he manage to say, “We are family sooner or later; why are you speaking so formally? Ah Xiang and I may not be very capable, but we can still lend you a hand…”

Previously, when Uncle Ming mentioned marrying Ah Xiang to me, it was always discussed privately between us, and I had never agreed. Now, Uncle Ming spoke of us being family sooner or later. Inley Yang heard this and immediately asked Uncle Ming, “What family? Are you trying to become relatives with Old Hu?”

Uncle Ming replied, “Yes. I see that Brother Hu has unimpeachable character. When a man and woman come of age, they should marry. As an elder, it is my duty to worry about them. If my goddaughter marries him, she will have a secure lifelong home, and I can close my eyes peacefully when I die, having done right by Ah Xiang’s birth parents.”

I quickly interrupted Uncle Ming: “For thousands of years, the blood of the Chinese working people flowed like a sea, struggling, failing, then struggling again until final victory was achieved—all for the purpose of overthrowing the Three Great Mountains pressing upon the Chinese people! I have fought revolution my whole life, only to have them arrange a feudal-style arranged marriage for me in the end? They want me to suffer twice and toil a second time? I am firmly opposed! Whoever brings this up again, I will rebel against!”

Fatty had just eaten his fill. Always eager to stir up trouble, he immediately joined the fray, saying to Uncle Ming, “Uncle Ming, my own uncle, pay no mind to Bayi (my nickname). Arranging a wife for him is a blessing dropped from heaven, yet he complains the dumpling that fell wasn't filled with three delicacies. Why don’t you just pass Ah Xiang over to me? My parents passed away early. Can I marry into your family as a live-in son-in-law? I will treat you like my own father from then on. When your time comes to pass on, I promise I will wail for you from Tiananmen to Babaoshan, I swear to Chairman Mao, without a single pause! I will mourn as… as damn much as possible!”

Fatty was taking liberties with Uncle Ming, and I nearly spat out all the beef in my mouth from laughing. Just then, a lowing sound echoed from the depths of the cave dwelling, interrupting everyone’s chatter. Everyone in the room heard it. While the sound of a yak is not unusual in the Tibetan region, hearing it in this silent ancient city, especially right after we had eaten beef, was enough to make our scalps crawl.

I instructed Inley Yang to stay behind to look after Uncle Ming and Ah Xiang. I waved my hand at Fatty, and the two of us grabbed our weapons and, holding our "Wolf Eyes," crept into the deeper recesses of the cave. When we entered, I had taken a cursory glance inside; the structure was similar to the other caves, but it seemed to have an extra stone door. Since we had seen several other empty caves, we hadn’t paid much attention when we arrived here, only glancing around casually. Now, standing by the stone door, I sensed something was wrong.

The stone door was slick. There was a bloody, human-shaped handprint, as if someone, covered in blood, had hastily pulled the door shut while leaving. Touching it, the bloodstain seemed quite fresh, left not long ago.

I nodded to Fatty. Fatty stepped back two paces, then charged forward, slamming the stone door open with his shoulder. I followed, gun raised, entering inside. Still, there was no one. The surrounding walls were coated everywhere in blood. The central stone altar and the wooden stakes were all vivid red. Seeing the piles of fresh yak meat, this was clearly the city’s slaughterhouse. Steam still rose from a few bloody cowhides, as if they had just been stripped from the animals.

Fatty and I, having just eaten boiled beef, both felt a wave of nausea. Suddenly, we noticed something above us. We snapped our heads up to see a bovine skull, two to three times larger than an ordinary yak's, suspended upside down. The skull was stripped bare of skin, its eyes wide open, flesh and blood dripping. Half of its tongue dangled out, appearing almost alive, and it let out a heavy, muffled grunt directed at Fatty and me.