Seeing that everyone else was fast asleep, utterly exhausted by the ordeal, there was no need to disturb them over Ming Shu’s petty trick. Without another word, I snatched the backpack back from him, placed it under my head as a pillow, and told him that if he insisted on leaving, he couldn't take anything with him because we needed it too. If he preferred to stay, he should find a comfortable spot to rest and stop bothering anyone.

Ming Shu had no choice but to return, sitting quietly on the ground and whispering to me, "Brother Hu... just one more word. It’s a true pity about the tomb of the King of Hami and the art of the Mojin Xiaowei being lost to ruin. If we cooperate, we could really pull off something huge. Don't think I’m old; look at all the vigorous old generals throughout history—like Lian Po of Zhao, skilled in military strategy, or Ma Yuan of the Han Dynasty, who established the state..." I pursed my lips, closed my eyes, and resolutely ignored him, choosing sleep. Feeling rebuffed and having failed to escape, Ming Shu was undeniably awkward, so he just settled down to rest on the spot. This time, I truly let go, my dream-soul soaring toward my distant hometown. I have no idea how long I slept before Shirley Yang woke me. The sky was already light. The weather in the mountains changes on a whim, and we had to move out of this valley while the sky was clear and bright. The underground volcanic belt was abnormally active, and the sulfurous odor in the valley was much stronger than it had been at night. Although we couldn't judge the immediate danger, this was no place to linger. We had very little left to pack, so we quickly set off again, with Fatty still carrying Ah Xiang on his back.

After emerging from underground, the Western-Tether city dive watch was ruined; the compass inside had stopped working. While these multi-function watches are perfectly adapted to harsh wilderness conditions, they have one critical flaw: they resist water but not vapor. Precision mechanical watches are highly susceptible to water vapor; the steam generated by high temperatures easily penetrates the seals, and any slight change in internal pressure causes the delicate components to shift or loosen. Mechanical navigation was impossible. Fortunately, the general direction of this Hidden Bone Gully (Canggu Gou) was clear enough. However, once we reached the higher mountain altitudes, we would have to rely on our wilderness survival experience to find our way.

The group headed west. Leaving the valley, we had to circle the Dragon's Peak Glacier (Longding Bingchuan) to reach another sacrificial burial trench, where our supply yak team should be waiting for us. Even though we tried to stick to the lower areas, the elevation increased sharply, and the temperature dropped the further we walked. In the ancient cypress forest sandwiched between glaciers on either side, the ground was littered with loose stones, making our trek feel like navigating a great river of rock and wood. Occasionally, among the high scree, we could see snow lotus flowers blooming—beautiful and white, their fragrance pleasing. In truth, the snow lotus isn't as incredibly precious as legends claim; it’s common near glaciers and widely used in medicine by local Tibetan monks. Only the Ice-Heart Snow Lotus (Bingxin Xuelianhua) is truly extraordinary and rarely seen.

After another half-day's trek, the cloud cover above began to thin. The mysterious snow peaks of the Karakoram unexpectedly pulled back their veil. Looking up toward the heights, the massive snow mountains surrounding the Dragon's Peak Glacier appeared as goddesses adorned with silver crowns, radiating a blinding brilliance, standing majestically against the firmament, showcasing unparalleled splendor. The rare and magnificent ice towers (bingta lin) on the mountainsides looked like diamonds set around the edge of a silver coronet—a world of glistening glass. If the clouds hadn't thinned, we never would have witnessed such a fantastically enchanting scene. Below the glacier, a forest of countless strange rocks extended densely downward, merging with the ancient forest at the lower altitudes.

The glacial meltwater flowed underground beneath the forest, emitting a rhythmic ding-dong, like a fairy maiden's jade fingers lightly plucking harp strings, releasing a cascade of moving notes. Though cold, hungry, and struggling for breath, seeing such a fairyland scenery compelled us to exclaim how wonderful it was just to have survived long enough to reach this place.

Reaching the edge of the forest, everyone felt their strength nearly spent. Fatty was gasping for air, his face flushed purple, so he had to set Ah Xiang down; they couldn't walk another step without resting. Ah Xiang was even more breathless. I knew this wasn't just fatigue; it was the onset of hypoxia caused by excessive exertion at high altitude. If we had continued climbing steadily, her breathing would never have normalized. We had to rest here until her altitude sickness subsided, but without an oxygen tank, I feared Ah Xiang wouldn't last much longer.

I also felt a suffocating pressure in my chest. I looked out at the vast expanse of distant mountains and forest seas, wondering how much further we still had to go. Just as worry settled in, I suddenly spotted several figures moving on a distant slope. I thought the silver light reflecting off the snow peaks was playing tricks on my eyes, so I quickly rubbed them and looked again. I was not mistaken; there were people there. Shirley Yang and the others had also seen them. Judging by their attire, they were some of the local porters who had accompanied us into the mountains.

The four men hadn't noticed us. They appeared to be prostrating themselves toward the peak where the clouds had parted, bowing repeatedly. Seeing that we had finally located the yak team, everyone’s spirits lifted instantly. Supporting one another, we waved and called out as we walked toward the porters. As we got closer, the porters spotted us too, showing equal delight. They pointed toward the snow peak, motioning for us to look there as well.

I followed their pointed fingers. Far above, over ten robust, enormous wild yaks moved slowly forward, looking like massive black boulders traversing the very edge of the sky. They were twice the size of ordinary yaks, typical high-alpine creatures extremely resistant to cold, and very rare. They roamed near inaccessible high mountains, possessing tenacious vitality, revered by locals as divine beings, symbols of boundless auspicious power. Normally, seeing even one was difficult; to see a whole herd was such an auspicious sign that it explained their excitement.

The largest of these wild yaks measured nearly four meters long, powerfully built, with magnificent, thick horns and thick, dark coats whose belly fur nearly swept the ground. Their long, barbed tongues, horns, and hooves were their three weapons; even the Tibetan cave bear and wolf packs dared not provoke them. It seemed this herd was treading snow and ice, heading toward the basin on the far side of the high mountains.

Watching the herd of wild yaks slowly traversing the heavenly path inspired a deep reverence—a reverence for nature and for life itself. As the group witnessed the huge, silent yaks gradually disappear behind the ridgeline of the snow mountains, the clouds along the horizon closed once more, re-shrouding the silver peaks. A sense of loss settled over us, and we stared blankly at the clouds for a long time before regaining our senses.

Due to the rapid increase in geothermal heat, the clouds covering the summit had been dispersed, revealing the true form of the snow peak. This once-in-a-millennium opportunity called for worship and prostration. The porters who had stayed behind at the supply camp were praying for the divine peak's protection. Seeing the auspicious wild yaks was an added joy. A cold snap had hit the glacier a few days prior, followed by an avalanche, which had worried them greatly. Seeing us return safely, they continuously turned their prayer wheels, praising the Buddha's mercy and grace. Regarding Chu Yi’s death, they felt sorrow, but the local herders held a distinctly different view on life and death from ours. To die beneath the sacred snow peak was a supreme and perfect merit. Furthermore, since he had slain the White Wolf King, the incarnation of the Kunlun demon, Chu Yi’s soul would surely become the Changzhu Protector of the Buddha (Changzhu: meaning an eagle’s cry like a dragon’s roar) in the next life, and may his spirit guard the Karakoram from wolf threats forever.

The supply camp held ample gear and medicine. Ah Xiang’s worsening condition was stabilized; she lay on a yak’s back, attached to an oxygen tank for two days, and was temporarily out of danger. Shirley Yang said she wanted to take Ah Xiang to the U.S., to prevent Ming Shu from selling her later. In America, she could undergo surgery on her eyes and live a normal life.

We packed up camp and, riding yaks, finally exited the imposing mountains of the Karakoram, returning to the desolate Zhajiexigu Grassland. The herders, seeing our return, busied themselves making ciba (glutinous rice cakes) and brewing yak butter tea. Soon, a feast was laid out for us to eat and drink. Though not as lavish as the dinner before we entered the mountains, it was still incredibly rich and delicious: first, hand-torn mutton, followed by thin-skinned, meaty Tibetan buns, pilaf mixed with white sugar and raisins, and finally, a large bowl of yogurt for everyone.

We hadn't eaten such proper food in days. We gorged ourselves until we couldn't eat another bite, then reluctantly allowed the herders to clear away the remnants, only to ask, "What time is breakfast tomorrow?" Of course, this insistence mainly came from me, Fatty, and Ming Shu. Shirley Yang wasn't as shameless, and Ah Xiang ate sparingly, only finishing two bowls of yogurt.

That evening, I recounted the details of our mountain expedition to Iron Rod Lama. The Lama reflected, saying, "How auspicious! Limitless, supreme encounters abound; truly splendid prosperity! This is not just your fortune, but the protection granted by the Buddha. This body is but a vessel for the sea of suffering, like an enemy. If one can use this body wisely through affinity, it becomes the very foundation of auspiciousness..."

Iron Rod Lama knew little about the Muchen Zhu (Dust-Catcher Bead), so I briefly explained it to him. In essence, the Muchen Zhu is the Phoenix Gallbladder. Tibetan Esoteric Buddhism has Feng Shui theories similar to those in Central China, though the terminology differs significantly. For instance, the Karakoram region is called the Phoenix Divine Palace (Fenghuang Shen Gong) in Esoteric texts—the land of the Phoenix Bird. In Qingniao Feng Shui, however, it refers to the Dragon's Peak, the spine of heaven and earth, where Yin and Yang converge.

After the demise of the Demon Kingdom, the Phoenix Gallbladder flowed into the Central Plains. During the Zhou Dynasty, the nobles in charge of divination foresaw, through turtle and fire augury, that this was a secret artifact symbolizing eternal reincarnation, originating from the land of the Phoenix. However, they had no clue how to use it correctly; only those who grasped the Sixteen-Character Heavenly Hexagram could glimpse its profound secrets. That diagram of sixteen characters is long lost, and we can only imagine its content through speculation. After the Qin and Han dynasties, certain privileged classes retained inscribed dragon bones from Fengming Qishan, likely stemming from their yearning for immortality, hoping one day to unravel its mystery.

The Phoenix Gallbladder was actually a sacrificial artifact used by the Demon Kingdom to appease the Ghost Cave. The unique geography of the Phoenix Divine Palace contains two pools of water. Explained through Yin-Yang Feng Shui, these two pools represent the black and white circles within the Taiji diagram, separated by a line symbolizing the unity of Yin and Yang. The pools in the Divine Palace symbolize these two dots; if these two points were covered with opposing colors, Yin and Yang would no longer merge but would be clearly divided.

I showed Iron Rod Lama the eye marking on my back, which had turned from red to black. This signified that the passage between the real and virtual spaces had been completely severed, meaning we had finally escaped the deadly entanglement of the Ghost Cave. However, when we left the altar, it coincided with Ah Xiang’s disappearance, so we left in such haste that we forgot to retrieve the Phoenix Gallbladder. Returning now was impossible—a major regret, undeniably.

Iron Rod Lama stated that the Phoenix Gallbladder was the Pearl of Reincarnation mentioned in the epic of the Enemy-Subduing Treasure King. The Enemy-Subduing Treasure King—this meant the Hero King, like the wish-fulfilling Mani Jewel of boundless Buddhist wisdom, could counter the Demon Kingdom’s Pearl of Reincarnation. Heaven has no boundaries, and earth has no laws. The lingering poison of the Demon Kingdom has not yet cleared; all methods shift, and human affairs are impermanent. What you have done constitutes the achievement of an immeasurably vast, unhindered good fruit, leading to supreme joy and auspiciousness.

The Lama mentioned he still planned to circumambulate the lake to fulfill his vows and asked about my intentions. I said I was contemplating going overseas. Thinking of Iron Rod Lama's advanced age and the likelihood of him dying on the pilgrimage around the lake—his lifelong aspiration—the road to Tibet was thousands of miles long. It seemed we would never meet again in this life. My eyes began to sting slightly.

The next morning, Shirley Yang discussed with Iron Rod Lama the idea of donating a sum of money to the temple near the Karakoram to erect a golden Buddha statue and pray for the deceased. I knew Shirley Yang believed in God rather than Buddhism, and she was doing this largely for our sake, as Fatty and I had broken many rules while tomb raiding. If we hadn't been incredibly lucky, we would have died long ago. I felt deeply grateful to her.

Iron Rod Lama led us to a small temple nearby, consisting only of front and back halls, with some piles of inscribed stones nearby. The temple was named White Conch Manjushri (Bailuo Manzhe), also linked to local legends. The front hall housed a statue of the Eight-Year-Old Vajra Indestructible Buddha; the back hall contained remnants of Tang Dynasty murals. This place had once known glory. The murals depicted the Dragon King’s palace, the chambers of the Rakshasi demonesses, secret passages infested by demon dragons, and valleys where malevolent spirits lurked—all demons and monsters subdued by the Indestructible Vajra. On either side stood statues of the Fragrance-Seeking Gods, who used the marvelous music of the pipa to make offerings to the deities.

According to locals, because of its remote and sparsely populated location, the spiritual fervor at this Indestructible Vajra Temple had waned. Centuries slipped by in an instant, and now only one-third of the original structure remained, and it was quite dilapidated. Long ago, there were three Buddha halls here, housing the Kalachakra Vajra and the Samvara Vajra.

Shirley Yang immediately decided to donate enough money to restore the Vajra Temple of the Karakoram to its former glory. Iron Rod Lama proclaimed that Shirley Yang must be a Lhamo (celestial fairy) descended to our snowy plateau, and the merit accrued from building and repairing temples would surely bring blessings in the future. Buddhist scriptures state that the people blessed with the greatest fortune in the world possess four types of good fortune: the first is great wealth, abundant treasures, properties, and land; the second is dignified and majestic appearance, possessing the thirty-two marks...

I thought to myself that I could certainly do without the fortune of having thirty-two marks. If I truly had thirty-two faces, even changing one daily, I wouldn't repeat a face for over a month—surely my acquaintances wouldn't recognize me? But this was probably just a metaphor. The Buddha hall was a place of solemnity, and though I cared little for such matters, I dared not ask such a rude question.

As we were leaving, Ming Shu again tried to stay behind to become a lama. Fatty and I pulled him up without argument and began dragging him back. I suddenly had a bad feeling and asked Ming Shu, "Are all those antiques in your Beijing residence fakes? Otherwise, why are you always trying to bolt? I'm telling you, Hong Kong will eventually return to the motherland. Give it up, Uncle. You've taken on this liability; you can't hide from it no matter where you run."

Ming Shu hastily protested, "It’s not a mistake! I have always conducted business with open purchases and open sales; I never deal in fraudulent goods. Otherwise, why would everyone respectfully call me Ming Shu? Ming means clear and transparent. How could I ever do something that can't see the light of day? I just suddenly saw through the vanities of the mundane world, that's why I wanted to become a monk. It’s definitely not to run away from debts."

Fatty and I immediately told Ming Shu that it was excellent that he had seen through the world. He’d lost everything in this last venture. We hadn't wanted to accept it all initially, but since he had realized the vanity of the world and was determined to leave the Three Realms and avoid the Five Elements, those worldly possessions naturally held no attachments for him anymore. We no longer needed to hesitate out of sympathy; we would gladly help him clean up his affairs and expedite his achievement of enlightenment. Saying this, we ignored Ming Shu’s look of utter misery and dragged him back, half-carrying and half-heaving.