Chapter 168: Main Text Chapter 170 Numbers

Main Text Chapter 170 Numbers

Looking down from the slope where I stand, for several li ahead everything is a dark, gloomy vista; this corpse cavern keeps expanding, almost filling the valley behind, and I don't know whether this narrow gorge can dispel so much chaotic evil aura, but now there is no way to heaven or earth—I can only follow the prearranged plan; success or failure depends on whether heaven opens its eyes.

I swung the captured flying tiger like a meteor hammer, round and round, estimating that my strength had reached its limit, then I let go instantly—the Xian King's head was flung by tremendous centrifugal force toward the outside of the gorge.

I had intended to keep my eyes fixed on where the head would fall, but I had exerted too much force, my foot slipped on no stone, and I actually rolled down the slope; not far below grew a clump of banana plants, and I happened to get caught in them. All I heard was a muffled thunder-like sound echoing through the valley, my vision went black, and I knew nothing more.

In my stupor I didn't know how long it had been; I just didn't want to open my eyes, hoping to sleep forever, but my stomach grew hungrier and I woke up. As soon as I opened my eyes I felt the blinding sunlight—it was still daytime. Looking around, I saw myself lying on the slope, covered with a few banana leaves, my head resting on a backpack, Shirley Yang was beside me reading her Bible, my leg still wrapped in bandages, and the earlier gloomy corpse aura that had clung to my face had vanished.

My mind still not fully clear, I dazedly asked Shirley Yang how long I had been unconscious, and whether I had suffered any serious injury.

Shirley Yang laughed: 'You were snoring even while unconscious? You were just overworked, bumped into a tree, and took the opportunity to sleep a full day and night.'

According to Shirley Yang, after I fell into the banana thicket and fell asleep, the 'Aconite Meat Coffin Beast' down in the valley also rushed to the gorge mouth, where it was blocked by the 'Azure Dragon Halts Brush, Screen Walks Horse' formation; the chaotic malignant sand adhering to it instantly dissipated like smoke, leaving countless waste water, and finally only a corpse shell of meat lingzhi the size of a house remained at the gorge mouth; viewed from above, its shape resembled a large, mottled sea snail.

Everything corroded by the corpse cavern had turned to mud; the foul stench was blown away by the mountain wind. Pangzi dragged me and Shirley Yang separately up to the ridge. Then we collapsed and slept; once our tense nerves relaxed, they could no longer be sustained. Fortunately, by then Shirley Yang's corpse toxin had mostly receded, and she changed her glutinous rice and cinnamon for the last time. Now it seems the matured cinnamon spirit truly works wonders—at most another day and Shirley Yang will be back to normal.

Pangzi woke up early from hunger, went to the front of the valley and found the head, then went to the Mountain God Temple to retrieve our belongings; he should be back shortly.

Seeing that the major matters were settled, I waited for Pangzi to return and cook, then we would lash together a raft and float downstream back; this operation would count as a success, but I only wondered whether the head contained the phoenix gall we had been painstakingly searching for—evaluating the gains of this Yunnan tomb‑robbing venture mainly hinges on that.

Shirley Yang said: 'There is now a ninety‑nine percent chance that the jade‑transformed head's mouth contains the phoenix gall. However, we cannot extract and examine it in Yunnan; these things must wait until we return.'

At that moment, Pangzi returned from the valley carrying our luggage, and on the way he caught a few more patterned snakes; seeing I had awakened, he lit a fire and roasted the snakes. All three of us were famished, we wolfed down the food, then headed to the valley floor to find our way back to 'Shield Dragon Mountain'.

Shirley Yang asked whether we should burn the dried shell of the ten‑thousand‑year meat lingzhi; I said it wasn't necessary—unless a large amount of corpses piled up inside it, otherwise it would soon be buried by the local plants and soil. This place is not a major feng‑shui auspicious spot, so it won't produce any further changes; if we set it on fire we would surely suffer from diarrhea for ten days.

Following the 'Snake Crawling River', we easily reached the entrance of the Shield Dragon Mountain cave; I told Shirley Yang to stay at the mouth and watch our things, while Pangzi and I went nearby to find a few red oaks, used the remaining rope plus old vines, lashed together a tiny makeshift raft, and dragged it to the cave mouth.

Returning via the waterway inside Shield Dragon Mountain, we might encounter those sharp‑toothed 'Blade‑tooth Salmon', but as long as the raft stays free of fresh blood it's no problem; the only hassle is that we have to go upstream, and the recent high water really demands some effort.

By the time we rode the raft out of Shield Dragon Mountain, my arms were sore and numb; from tumbling about in the ancient tomb I had acquired at least a dozen bruises, which, due to the damp environment, throbbed faintly. I took off my climbing helmet and saw it covered in scratches and dents. Recalling the past few days, it was truly perilous—barely escaping becoming a ghost in some remote village, almost losing two lifetimes—but we managed to bring our things out of the insect valley, and we went and returned together, which is the most comforting outcome.

Returning to the Colorful Clouds Inn, I truly felt sorry for the landlady—I had lost the free‑loaned 'Sword Might' air rifle; when I came out I just kept walking, and I couldn't even recall where I had dropped it, so I told her we had been chasing butterflies behind the hills when we met a python, struggled with it, and lost everything, not even catching a butterfly.

The landlady, however, said the things were just dead objects; as long as people are safe that's fine. Shield Dragon Mountain originally has many giant pythons, and even local hunters who run into them can't be completely protected, but in recent years giant pythons have become rare; you ran into one and came out unharmed—that's better than anything.

We rested at the Colorful Clouds Inn for several days, waiting until Shirley Yang's body healed, then we paid double the room fee and thanked the landlady profusely before setting off. We took the train to Kunming; in the sleeper car I was already eager, so I suggested to Shirley Yang that we study the several items we had taken out of the Xian King's Tomb to see what they were used for—there seemed to be many mysteries still unsolved.

I checked that no one was peeking outside, then closed the door and had Pangzi take the items out one by one; at the time we were pressed for time and hadn't examined them closely, but the long train ride gave us a chance to appraise them.

Pangzi first produced a jade bottle, obtained from the Gourd Cave; the bottle originally held a flood of clear water in which a tiny white jade fetus was soaked, but the water inside had somehow drained away in the chaos, leaving the jade fetus deprived of its moistening and now looking withered. Even if we refill it with ordinary water, it never regains its former crystal clarity—perhaps the jade fetus is meant to be a kind of specimen, soaked in a real fetus to become like this, but I don't know what the liquid inside signifies or how it could produce this effect.

This Shield Dragon Mountain fertility‑worship relic has nothing to do with the phoenix gall, so we didn't think much of it; I had Pangzi put it away and we moved on to the next item. Pangzi produced several dozen black jade rings, which I had pried from the Xian King's hand—absolutely a paramount grave good surpassing all burial objects. As soon as the rings came out, we three covered our noses: 'Stink.' The rings, infiltrated by corpse odor, were reeking; we had already laid out some incense in the inn and smoked them for days, but the smell remained, so we sealed them in a transparent bag and viewed them through the plastic.

We stared at them for a long time but could discern nothing special; the jade rings were neither finely carved nor precious materials worth a city, merely ancient and well‑used, polished smooth by wear.

I suddenly had an idea and told Pangzi and Shirley Yang: 'The Xian King's pursuit was simple—seek immortality, become a deity. In the meat coffin we saw an alchemy furnace; inside remained traces of five‑colored medicinal stones, apparently cinnabar, lead powder, sulfur and the like, which in antiquity were compounded into Five‑Stone Powder. For those cultivating immortality, besides making elixirs, another important activity is communicating with the immortals.'

Pangzi, trying to be clever, said: 'Oh, these jade rings were originally meant to be thrown into the heavens; their purpose is much like drawing lots.'

I said: 'No, I think besides the grand lakeside ceremony, there must have been a daily practice; the ancients loved planchette writing. Even if true immortals might not come when summoned, it is still a spiritual reliance. I believe these jade rings were meant to go with a planchette board—its surface covered with chaotic characters—and the rings are used to hook the characters, a divination tool.'

Pangzi asked: 'How many hands does a person have, to make use of so many jade rings?'

I was speechless, so I replied: 'Perhaps one watches the changes of the stars and moon in the sky, then selects which ring to use to communicate with the immortals.'

Shirley Yang suddenly spoke: 'Yes, they are for hooking characters, but they are actually a set akin to an encryption‑decryption device; the font size on the Dragon Bone Heavenly Book matches these rings closely, and only by arranging these dozen or so jade rings in a certain sequence can the true information on the Dragon Bone be read.'

I told Shirley Yang: 'You've hit the nail on the head—once we get back, as long as we take Professor Sun's translation of the Record of Phoenix Cry Qi Mountain, we will know the secrets recorded in the Heavenly Book. I said it before: nobody knows about the Phoenix Cry Qi Mountain affair; to hide it so carefully, there must be another layer of cipher inside this code, and this secrecy is truly thorough.'

But how were these jade rings supposed to be arranged? Thinking of this, the three of us all stared at each other, dumbfounded; the black jade rings are each independent, not linked. I suddenly recalled that when the Xian King held the ring in his hand, there seemed to be some black residue as well—perhaps the parts that once connected the rings have rotted away, so no one will ever know how to use them.

Shirley Yang picked up the sealed bag and counted carefully: 'The total number of jade rings is… sixteen.'