Chapter 150: Main Text Chapter 152 Water Eye

Main Text Chapter 152 Water Eye

The coffin of the Xian King very likely lies in the "water eye" at the bottom of the pool. I recall seeing a huge stone beam when I was just at the pool bottom; I thought it was stone material that fell during the construction of the king's tomb, but now I think it might be the stone lintel of the tomb passage.

We divided up the preparatory work, fixing the three thickest ropes respectively to the wreckage of that heavy bomber underwater; nothing is more suitable as a fastening point than the wreckage of this 'Flying Fortress', for it not only has extremely high self-weight, but its huge hull far exceeds the diameter and suction of the 'water eye'.

Then we began to move the bronze horse; the bronze horse was extremely heavy, but fortunately the terrain here is a slope, and with all three of us exerting our full strength we finally pushed the bronze horse into the water, then we fixed the inflatable airbag on the diving bag to the abdomen of the bronze horse, so that when we return from the 'water eye' we can use the airbag's buoyancy to offset some of the huge suction in the vortex.

When we emerged from that breach, the outside was still dark clouds pressing the sky, stars and moon without light; the daytime scene of ancient trees growing thickly on the pool walls, vines entwining, the great waterfall spraying pearls and striking jade, silver mist surging, jade curtains hanging over green peaks—this mysterious and splendid atmosphere was completely invisible; the roaring sound of the huge waterfall masses was like a beast lurking in the darkness howling like thunder, making people's hearts tremble and souls shudder.

We three were treading water, floating in the pool. I said to Pangzi and Shirley Yang: 'Success or failure hinges on this one move; be absolutely careful not to let the bronze horse sink to the bottom of the water eye, otherwise we may never be able to come up again.'

Shirley Yang said: 'The nature of water is changeable; affairs underwater are hardest to predict. If it is difficult to enter the tomb passage from the vortex, do not force it; you can first retreat, then reconsider.'

I said to Shirley Yang: 'As long as the green mountains remain, we need not fear lack of firewood, but once the opportunity passes, we may never get another chance to enter this king's tomb; today we must exert our utmost effort. If we still cannot succeed, then it is heaven's will.' Having said that, I waved my hand and tapped my climbing helmet, turning on the tactical searchlight. I took off my diving mask, put on my oxygen mask, made the hand signal for descending, and led the way into the pool bottom.

Shirley Yang and Pangzi also immediately dove into the water; the three of us found the bronze horse underwater, together with the rope tied above it, and we firmly locked the safety latch on our necks to it, mutually securing each other. With threefold safety, I raised the 'Poseidon's Gleam' underwater searchlight, swept its strong beam around, and discovered that at the pool's edge we could not see the black vortex at the center in any direction—up, down, left, right—it was pitch black everywhere.

But I am already very familiar with the terrain of the pool bottom. Right now I am at the bomber's fuselage; its huge dark-green fuselage serves as a large landmark, with the tail pointing in that direction. That is the ten mysterious 'water eyes'; between the tail and the 'water eye' there is a strip of azure stone linked, and by following these markers on the pool bottom, even if visibility is poor, we can still find our bearings.

Underwater we cannot talk, so we use hand signals. Our hand signal is called 'Seal', not the universal German sign language, mainly because the Meiguo Navy's sign language is simpler and easier to learn. I signaled to Shirley Yang and Pangzi; Shirley Yang also understood, immediately released the airbag buoy on the bronze horse, letting it rise to the surface, so that if we run out of oxygen midway or the air tank fails, we can still temporarily breathe via the pipe connected to the buoy.

About a minute later, the air valve of the buoy had filled the airbag with roughly one‑third of air, lightening part of the bronze horse's weight; we pushed the bronze horse along the bottom, continually advancing toward the vortex at the pool's base.

Where we passed, the pool-bottom mud algae and mayflies floated up, fluttering chaotically in the water; the already dark pool floor grew even murkier, and I felt the silt beneath my feet was not thick, the bottom was very solid, like flat large stones, indicating that the tomb chamber of the 'Xian King's Tomb' is indeed hidden in the pool bottom, giving us a bit more confidence.

At this point, Shirley Yang moved slightly forward and stopped, clenching her fists left and right, pressing her elbows downward—this is the 'stop' signal; I and Pangzi hastily stopped, no longer pushing the bronze horse.

Shirley Yang turned her head back, not making any more gestures; I also noticed that an undercurrent began to appear below, indicating we had reached the edge of the 'water eye'. Following the prearranged plan, I signaled to Pangzi: extend two fingers, point back at my own eyes, then point at Pangzi, meaning 'You go ahead, we will cover you.'

Pangzi curled his thumb and index finger into a ring, extended the other three fingers: 'Received.' He then moved to the front of the bronze horse; since his build is the sturdiest among us, he must stay ahead to ensure the bronze horse is not drawn into the deep vortex.

With the heavy bronze horse, the three of us formed a circle, so we would not be swept up by the vortex's water flow; nevertheless we felt the undercurrent's suction growing stronger, and when that black vortex loomed before us we could hardly control our bodies. The bronze horse was not a single piece but cast in separate parts and welded together; I wondered whether it would be torn apart by the current. I quickly raised one arm, spread five fingers to draw a circle, clenched it into a fist, and gave Shirley Yang and Pangzi the 'quick gather' signal. The three of us plus a heavy backpack and the bronze horse's weight totaled nearly a thousand jin, which barely steadied our center of gravity; I slowly released the safety latch, letting the rope pay out centimeter by centimeter.

Pangzi pulled out two cold‑smoke fireworks. He struck them against his climbing helmet; instantly non‑burning smoke and cold sparks shot out in the water. He let the two sticks burn in his hand for five seconds, then flicked his wrist, and the two balls of light were immediately sucked into the deep vortex.

Behind the bronze horse, I saw the light of the cold‑smoke fireworks; in the vortex what did it look like? I saw Pangzi turn his head, extend his right hand flat to shield his brow, then point at the vortex below, and finally give a thumbs‑up: 'I see it, it's down there.'

I braced my body, pointed respectively at Shirley Yang and Pangzi, tapped my climbing helmet: 'Watch your safety.' Then the three of us tightly embraced the bronze horse, using the vortex's suction to sink slowly; thanks to the bronze horse's weight, otherwise we would surely be spun dizzy by the current as soon as we went down.

Just as we sank into the vortex, Shirley Yang immediately pulled the inflation cord to fill the airbag, lest the downward suction be too strong and we be swept straight into the deep undercurrent. If one says the pool bottom is like a great cauldron base, then the 'water eye' in the middle is a big hole in that base; even the advanced 'Poseidon's Gleam' underwater illumination device becomes like a tiny matchstick in the water eye, visibility plummeting drastically—it feels as if we are trapped in a terrifying ghost cave, being dragged by evil spirits into endless darkness.

Fortunately, embracing that bronze horse gave a sense of steady weight, and my heartbeat gradually steadied. Pangzi was the first to spot the tomb passage entrance; it was not in the vortex's center but lay close to the pool bottom, though a stone slab blocked the view—without entering the 'water eye' one could not see it.

Seeing that we had found the tomb passage, I hurriedly joined Pangzi and Shirley Yang in exerting force, so that our group broke free from the vortex's center and struggled to swim into the passage interior.

The tomb passage had no stone gate, and inside was nothing but dark, icy pool water; yet once we entered the passage we no longer felt the suction of the dark current. The large stone of the blue‑stone tomb‑passage entrance is arranged in a reverse‑slope contraction, utterly unaffected by the 'water eye' force field just one meter away. Still we did not dare relax, and we swam another twenty‑odd meters deeper into the passage before stopping.

Just now we struggled with all our might in the 'water eye', with no time to feel fear; now, upon a little reflection, if any step had gone slightly awry we would already have become vengeful spirits of the pool bottom—but at least we have found the tomb passage, and taking such a risk was worth it.

We untied the ropes on our bodies and continued swimming deeper into the water‑filled tomb passage. A quick survey showed the passage was fairly wide and level; both walls and floor were made of large square stone bricks, only the ceiling was a large blue‑stone slab, with no murals or inscribed steles, not even any tomb‑guarding effigies—most oddly, there was no stone gate, suggesting the explosives we had prepared would not be needed.

But I soon realized that this place certainly leads to the king's tomb's 'Mysterious Palace', for the Xian King was obsessed with the arts of immortality, believing he could ascend to heaven after death, and confident that no outsider would enter this tomb, so the passage lacks a stone gate to block intruders; to grave‑robbers, a stone gate is indeed the most foolish obstacle, the difference between having one and not merely being a waste of effort and time. The passage is thin and long; we have swum far underwater, and I signaled to Pangzi and Shirley Yang to keep advancing. Judging by the terrain here, the 'Mysterious Palace' where the coffin and funerary objects are placed should not be far off.

Sure enough, after advancing another few dozen meters, a stone slope appeared ahead on the pool bottom, and the tomb passage widened to several times its previous width. Following the slope upward, we soon rose above the pool's water level; as soon as our heads broke the surface we saw the end of the stone‑slope tomb passage, where a massive gray‑blue stone gate weighing a thousand jin stood towering.

I wiped the water from my face, mixed surprise and delight: 'At last we have arrived.' I could hardly wait to burst through the door, while Pangzi pointed in the water at the top of the great stone gate and said: 'Hey, Lao Hu, look up there… why is there still a small door?'

The small door Pangzi spoke of is a copper‑built gate tower at the highest point, entirely black, exquisitely crafted; its opening is just large enough for one person to pass through, and on the tower there are drip‑stones, with clouds, rosy mist and flying birds cast all around, seeming to symbolize lofty heights above the clouds. I told Pangzi: 'That place is called the Heavenly Gate; it is for the tomb owner to ascend to heaven after releasing the corpse and achieving immortality, and it exists only in the tombs of Daoist practitioners. Although the beautiful feat of becoming an immortal and ascending to heaven is nothing those dried corpses can even dream of, this Heavenly Gate happens to serve as a ready‑made loot tunnel for us grave‑robbing colonels.'

Having endured countless hardships, we have at last reached the great door of the king's tomb's 'Mysterious Palace'; our hearts could not help but be greatly excited, but Shirley Yang still worried whether inside there was that 'Dust Pearl', and suddenly she asked me: 'In ancient China, did immortals truly exist?'