Chapter 118

The behavior of the insects in the valley was quite abnormal—why wouldn't they dare move deeper? I hurriedly climbed onto the earthen and stone-reinforced ruined wall, stood on high ground, and looked into the depths of the stream valley. I saw that the terrain ahead gradually lowered, but due to various plants competing to grow upward, nothing could be seen clearly beyond half a kilometer. I estimated that moving forward a bit further would bring us into the range of that toxic miasma.

I said to Pangzi and Shirley Yang: "Going deeper, even the insects disappear—this suggests there may be toxic substances inside. For safety, we should prepare our gas masks so we can put them on at any moment."

Although wearing a gas mask in this hot, humid valley is uncomfortable, to avoid poisoning we had no choice but to take them out, ready to cover our faces at once if we detected miasma. Before continuing, each of us also took some Red Pill Marvelous Heart Pills to lower heart rate and breathing—this is according to the secret formula of the Gold-Tapping Corpse Commanders, prepared by Da Jin Ya after consulting experts; whether it works remains unclear.

I took out the human skin map, located the mark of the Xian King's Tomb's ruined wall on it, cross-referenced, and confirmed it was correct. Judging by this, the toad mouth mark on the Burial Mound Register should be located not far from this ruined wall, on the left side of the valley.

After walking seven or eight meters, Shirley Yang noticed a bald patch of ground in this vine-choked stream valley, which stood out oddly. She used her entrenching shovel to dig a shallow pit, crouched down, and examined the substance in the soil. As it turned out, just like at Maoling, to prevent insects and ants from damaging the tomb, long-lasting insect-repelling medicine had been buried near the main tomb. This method was very common in Han dynasty imperial tombs; the simplest version buried sulfur and mercury, plus some hemp, xun huangji, lan pu ti, and other plants mixed together. Due to their opposing properties, they can remain buried in soil for hundreds or thousands of years without evaporating completely.

Shirley Yang asked me: "We're still far from the main tomb of the Xian King's Tomb—why bury the insect barrier here?"

I thought for a moment and said: "From the signs we've encountered on the outskirts, it seems the Xian King was deeply versed in esoteric arts, his greatest skill being the ability to alter feng shui layouts. For such a massive royal tomb, not only must the main tomb's form and energy possess the aura of an immortal's grave, but nearby, auxiliary grave sites would also be established."

If these auxiliary grave sites and stellar positions are well adjusted, they benefit the main tomb's grave site like a tiger gaining wings or a flood dragon entering the water. In ancient feng shui secret arts, the most difficult part is altering the layout—this requires a macroscopic understanding of heaven and earth, Qian and Kun, mountains and rivers, and the shifting of stars and constellations. Many fraudulent feng shui masters who deceive the world for fame also claim they can change layouts, but in reality they only know a few minor branches—how could altering the earth's veins be easy?

Moreover, the workload of altering feng shui layouts is not something ordinary people can accomplish—unless those who hold regional power and supreme authority, the nobles and princes, have the strength to undertake such massive earthworks.

In the "Sixteen-Character Yin-Yang Feng Shui Secret Art," the "Transformation" section details the methods for changing wind and water. Among them, the "Change (Change means exchange) Dragon Classic" records that altering the dragon vein's form and momentum, transforming wind and water, requires at least moving the nine main related grave points surrounding the dragon vein. The first grave point: transform generating energy into entwined protection; the second: both ears pierce heaven, piercing the clouds; the third: fish become dragon whiskers, gathering gold water; the fourth: towering (no no) palace as support; the fifth: adorn the celestial beam, open the Ming Tang; the sixth: water mouth pass set up to greet and welcome; the seventh: sand feet suitable for left and right coiling; the eighth: layered tents penetrated by the dragon; the ninth: ninefold winding returning to face the mountain (mountain thousand).

Adjusting these nine grave points near the main vein can maintain the feng shui gate lock, entwined protection, dense and unbroken—grave site form, energy, and pulse enduring ten thousand years. This formula seems obscure and difficult, but in fact, once one studies the "Earth Classic (region, inside change upper not to lower said)," one knows it's simply a matter of burying goldfish bowls, planting tall trees, digging deep wells, etc. —the difficulty lies only in choosing the right locations.

Here the vegetation is too thick, so other things are temporarily indiscernible, but among these nine grave points for altering feng shui layouts, the last one—"Ninefold Winding Returning to Face the Mountain (mountain thousand)"—is particularly clear.

The insect valley winds and twists; in its deep parts, the hills on both sides are tangled and chaotic, while the dragon vein of water running through the stream valley appears host and guest indistinguishable—truly, no distinction can be made, with the guest seeming to seize the host. Surely, within the dragon's halo of the water dragon, the terrain will be lower; those who sit low and small are like sitting in a well watching the sky—their bearing lacks dignity and is full of humility, so we must rebuild a "Ninefold Winding Returning to Face the Mountain (mountain thousand)" formation at the choke point of this dragon vein.

At the beginning and end of the valley, every ninth bend should have a shrine, temple, or similar structure built to give this water dragon vein added momentum, making the pulse evident. If it is a mountain god temple or similar, it will necessarily be of earth and wood construction, and since wood is most feared by insect gnawing and ant biting, measures to repel insects must certainly be taken. Thus I infer this insect barrier is meant to protect that mountain god temple, and there are likely at least three such barriers, with additional insect-repelling structures within the temple itself.

Shirley Yang exclaimed joyfully: "So the toad mark in the Burial Mound Register and on the human skin map should be a certain shrine—your feng shui theory really does have great use."

I said to her: "Fish cannot leave water, melons cannot leave seedlings, and seeking dragons by inverting the斗 cannot leave the 'Sixteen-Character Yin-Yang Feng Shui Secret Art'."

Pangzi said dismissively: "Look at that—say he's fat and he still pants. If you really have talent, why not tell us what arrangements are in the Xian King's old man's underground palace, and what more burial goods there are?"

Not wanting to waste time, we followed the insect barrier off course, cutting through the middle of the stream valley, then slanting forward into the depths to search for exposed temple sites of the water dragon vein.

As I walked, I said to Pangzi and Shirley Yang: "I say there is a mountain god temple or similar structure on this valley's side—this is definitely not wrong. Although these things may seem strange and rare, 'once one principle is understood, all principles are understood'—once you master feng shui secret arts, it's not hard to see the reason. As for the layout of the Xian King's Tomb's underground palace, I can't say until we get close; random guessing won't give a definite answer. However, since the ancient Dian Kingdom began closing its borders and cutting off contact with Central Plains civilization after the Qin collapse, although it later absorbed some Han cultural influence, I estimate the tomb's structure certainly inherits more pre-Qin traditions."

Pangzi asked: "Last time we went to Shaanxi, I heard that grandson Da Jin Ya talk about some events of Qin Shi Huang's mausoleum—saying human fat made candles that burn for ten thousand years—is that really true?"

Shirley Yang said: "Not human fat, but the oil of the Eastern Sea merfolk used as fuel, burning for ten thousand years. Four gates shoot and trap bows, mechanisms pour and transmit—those nearby are shot."

After hearing Shirley Yang's words, I laughed: "This is something from the Records of the Grand Historian used to scare people—eternal lamps like this appear in many noble and imperial tombs, but in the eyes of grave-robbing and gold-tapping experts, it's a joke. Never mind how much sea creature fat would be needed to burn for ten thousand years—once an ancient tomb's underground palace is sealed, air stops flowing; without air, even the most energy-efficient eternal lamp will burn out. If air were allowed to circulate, this tomb's underground palace would rot into ruins within a hundred or so years."

In modern times, even if Qin-Han era ancient tombs are preserved, unless the environment is special, it's already very hard to maintain their original appearance. Now we still don't know how well the Xian King's Tomb, deep in this secluded valley of the dense forest, has been preserved.

We already found a reference point—although plants are abundant and visibility low in the jungle, for us it's already no obstacle, and soon we discovered the second to third insect barriers laid with insect-repelling medicine. Since in this deep valley there is no wind or rain, and the medicine contains large amounts of sulfur and nitre, the surface has no grass growing, and to this day has not been covered by moss or vines—only a little soil has been added on the surface; for those who know the truth, finding it is not difficult.

The valley reached here, the terrain became increasingly open, presenting a funnel shape—already ahead there were faint traces of light smoke and thin mist. The deeper we went, the thicker the white, murky mist became; looking ahead, the entire valley was shrouded in clouds and mist. Inside was a deathly silence—no insect chirps, bird calls, or sounds of wind moving grass.

This is that legendary pestilential mist that has not yet dissipated to this day—the toxic miasma generated in the valley's depths. Under the shroud of the mountain miasma, this valley becomes even more mysterious and unfathomable. And the even more mysterious Xian King's Tomb lies at the very end of this cloud and mist.

Although we were still some distance from the mountain miasma, to be safe we had no choice but to put on our gas masks. Pangzi looked ahead at the vast expanse of white miasma and said to me and Shirley Yang: "Since we have anti-toxic equipment, why not just ignore it all and charge straight through this white mist? Wouldn't that be easier than struggling through this tangled mess of trees and grass searching for some shrine?"

I said to him: "You, besides lacking a screw in your head, have no other major flaws. Do you know how vast this mountain miasma's range is? That white mist is so thick that once you enter it, even if you don't lose direction, with visibility reduced to the extreme, your progress would slow by several times compared to normal. If it takes half a day to get out, fine—but if you end up stuck in darkness unable to exit, you couldn't even take off your gas mask to eat or drink—then you'd be truly trapped, unable to advance or retreat."

As we spoke, we had already arrived at the foot of the mountain on the valley's left side. This place had already deviated far from the Snake Stream, yet it was almost exactly in the middle of the three insect barriers. As we walked, suddenly a patch of flowering shrubs beside us trembled violently—we all jumped in shock. Nobody touched that lush patch of flowers and grass, there was no wind, so how did the plants move on their own? Could we have encountered again those strange trees and grasses possessed by the toxin snake? I and Pangzi both raised our "Chicago Typewriter," pulled the bolts, and were about to sweep fire at that strange patch of plants.

Shirley Yang raised her right hand: "Wait—this is dancing grass—normally listless, but once startled by a passing person or animal nearby, it will pose and sway as if dancing, with the ability to move at sound and sing while dancing, harmless to humans."

That large clump of dancing grass trembled like a ghost for a moment, gradually split into two clumps, and then revealed half of a large, fire-red gourd.