Chapter 173

Main text Chapter 175 Ge Ma's Ga Wu

This ancient tomb had no backfilled earth, retaining a certain volume of underground space; going down through the cracked fissure, I immediately saw a small cluster of eerie blue firelight, that cluster of ghostly, oppressive blue flame, a bit smaller than a fingernail cap; when the firelight flickered slightly, the air instantly gave off a unique gloomy, restless aura.

I am no stranger to the so-called blue "Da Pu"; an old acquaintance—just a few days ago they forced me to jump into the underground lake, barely escaping the fate of being burned alive. I slowly moved my feet, descending into the tomb chamber; based on last time's experience, Da Pu ghost bugs do not ignite inanimate objects, but any living thing that touches them instantly turns to ash, and their only weakness is water.

The silenced pistol at my back gave me no time to think, its cold barrel constantly reminding me to keep moving forward, because the wolves' howls outside were drawing ever nearer; I instinctively felt for the water flask at my waist, and despair instantly flooded me—the water in the military flask had frozen solid into a lump of ice the moment it left the depot, impossible to pour out.

Xu Gan Shi also realized this underground chamber was actually an ancient tomb; a faint ghost fire flickered faintly inside, he muttered a curse under his breath for bad luck, hid behind me, shone his flashlight inward, wanting to see what the tomb chamber looked like—if it were haunted, better to flee early and find another shelter.

As I walked down, I also used the light from Xu Gan Shi's flashlight to make out the chamber's structure—at most a dozen square meters; in the center stood a stone platform, the burial bed, carved into the shape of a crouching giant wolf, upon which lay a corpse dressed in strange attire. Its head was covered with a snow‑white mask, the mask painted with red pigment to draw a peculiar, almost joking expression; the whole body was wrapped in a tarnished silver chain‑mail net, the lining indistinct, and the hands and feet were bound in animal hides, leaving no part of the corpse exposed. This strange ancient corpse, at a glance, left a deep impression on me.

Beneath the wolf‑shaped burial bed lay a basin‑shaped stone bowl, in which sat upright a small‑sized corpse that appeared to be a child; it, too, wore a mask and was wrapped in the same tarnished silver net, matching the attire of the horizontally laid ancient corpse.

The tomb floor was littered with black ash; it seemed those who had gone in and never returned had all been burned to death here—if one didn't know the situation and tried to rescue each other, a single moment could incinerate all dozen or so people. This ancient tomb contained roughly three fire bugs, two of them sealed inside the corpses of the platoon leader and the signalman, while the remaining one was probably the one that burned the cook, Old Sun, to death.

I broke out in a cold sweat, forced to walk to the middle of the tomb chamber. Xu Gan Shi stood at the tomb entrance, hesitating; the wolves' howls seemed right outside, making it almost too late to retreat, yet I also felt the tomb was a haunted place and, short of absolute necessity, really didn't want to go in.

I suddenly noticed that the tomb's ghost fire had retreated into a corner, and Xu Gan Shi's flashlight beam followed it there; only then did I see that the light was not emitted by a bug but by Lu Weiguo of the Geomancy Institute, his expression agonized, his hands constantly scratching his chest; as soon as he opened his mouth, a blob of cold blue light spewed out, and I hurriedly asked, "Old Lu, what's wrong with you?"

Lu Weiguo looked at me helplessly, then suddenly dropped to his knees and coughed violently; each cough expelled a piece of dark‑red ash, as if his internal organs and respiratory tract were burning inside; after just a few coughs he curled up and collapsed, the flames bursting from his chest consuming him from within, turning him into a pile of black ash.

In the pile of black ash after the burning, only a single blue point of light remained; it suddenly sprang into the air and spun rapidly, and in the vast, pitch‑black tomb chamber there sounded a noise like the vibration of a ladybug's wings in flight.

I hurriedly stepped back, trying to dodge the attack of that Da Pu ghost bug, but Xu Gan Shi also saw what had just happened and shoved me in the back with his hand; I was unprepared, couldn't keep my footing, and ended up falling straight toward that Da Pu ghost bug; although I lost control of my balance, I knew full well that even a slight contact meant certain death.

In desperation I steeled myself, bit through my tongue, and sprayed a mouthful of fresh blood at the Da Pu ghost bug before me; the blue ghost fire it emitted was extremely weak, and this mouthful of blood actually doused it out. In the darkness I couldn't tell whether it was dead, so I grabbed the water flask, now completely frozen solid, and smashed it wildly against the ground in front of me.

I only heard Xu Gan Shi say from behind, "All right, Hu Ba Yi, you kid, your skills are not bad—quickly push that stone slab under the corpse over to block the gap, hurry, hurry, you hear the wolf pack already coming." Still shaken, I turned my head to look at Xu Gan Shi behind me and thought, "Damn it, he's really using me as a big blade," wondering how I could get a chance to take him out, when I suddenly saw, in the darkness behind Xu Gan Shi, a huge white face emerge, its pallid, furry visage bearing a single jade‑green eye glowing with cold light—this is the root that keeps herdsmen from sleeping peacefully, the white devil of the steppe, the one‑eyed wolf king.

Starting in 1969, to suppress counter‑revolutionaries, boost production, and protect socialist property, a large‑scale campaign to eradicate wolf packs was launched; in the supply and marketing cooperatives, a whole wolf pelt could be used as cash to exchange for daily necessities—whenever wolves were hunted, the locality could request military assistance, men for men, guns for guns; the wolves died or scattered, and those that remained understood their doom was near, for the Moon‑Magic God no longer blessed them with proud fangs.

The last surviving starving wolves were forced to flee into unfamiliar mountainous regions, where the high altitude and thin air left little game to hunt; dying in the Kunlun Mountains was merely a matter of sooner or later, and moreover, wolves of the Tibetan lands never enter monasteries—a reason modern people cannot explain.

Yet these wolves were already at the end of their rope, sniffing the wind‑borne scent of the dead, still breaking a millennium‑old taboo to storm the ruins of the Great Phoenix Temple; the wolves' abnormal movement I only learned of later—at that moment, suddenly, in the ancient tomb, I saw a pallid‑colored giant wolf burst forth behind Xu Gan Shi, its eyes in the darkness gleaming with a greedy green light, and I too was genuinely startled.

A thought struck me; I rose to my feet where I stood and asked Xu Gan Shi, "Old Xu, have you ever heard what to do when encountering a wolf that leans its paws on your shoulder?"

Xu Gan Shi stared, then waved his pistol at me and said, "What wolf‑leaning‑on‑shoulder? I told you to move that wolf‑shaped stone slab to block the door—hurry up, stop dawdling…" Before he finished, the white‑furred wolf king behind him rose onto its hind legs; its frame was so huge that standing upright it towered a good deal over Xu Gan Shi, both fore‑paws resting on his shoulders, and as it bared its fangs a strand of saliva dripped from the corner of its mouth.

Xu Gan Shi felt something suddenly clamp onto his shoulders, and a whiff of fishy odor hit his nose; instinctively he twisted his head to look back, instantly exposing his neck to the one‑eyed wolf king, whose sharp teeth sank straight into his blood vessels, gulping down his blood in big mouthfuls. At this point, even if he still had a gun in hand he could not use it—all I saw was Xu Gan Shi's legs kicking wildly, his pistol dropping to the ground, and soon the famished wolf would drain his blood, devour his flesh down to the bone, leaving only a white skeleton.

Seeing the opportunity, I sprang out from the side, and as I ran past Xu Gan Shi I shouted at him, "When a wolf leans its paws on your shoulder, you must never turn your head—once you do, even an immortal can't save you."

The white wolf's silver chest fur was stained red with blood, its eyes blazing red with hunger, it had no mind for anything else; I seized the chance and bolted out of the tomb. As soon as I emerged, the first thing I saw was a full round moon hanging high in the sky, with two old wolves circling the corpse of the medic Ge Ma, and I found it strange—these wolves' eyes were blood‑red from hunger, Ge Ma had only just died, why weren't they lunging to tear at the corpse? I knew wolves are naturally suspicious; they must have sensed something off, which made them hesitate.

Those two aging old wolves were probably the wolf king's aides, never leaving his side; the more doubtful a wolf of this sort, the more it would bring meat to its mouth yet refuse to eat it, and I thought, maybe Ge Ma isn't actually dead? I didn't know how many wolves had entered the ancient temple, or how the lama and the big fellow were faring—just as that thought crossed my mind, the two old wolves spotted me, let out low growls, and charged; I reached down, picked up the rifle that had fallen earlier, and fired, knocking the first wolf that lunged at me off its feet.

But at the same moment another wolf lunged and knocked me down; though old, it was still a wild beast, its experience slick, it knew the power of the 5‑6‑style semi‑automatic rifle. Its jaws clamped onto the rifle barrel, its two claws raked wildly at my chest, shredding the cotton coat into several large tears; in the cold air, puffs of white vapor blew from its mouth and nose, and all I could smell was the foul, gamey stench of the wolf.

I and that old wolf rolled into a tangle, deadlocked for a moment, when a few gunshots rang out; the wolf's grip on the rifle loosened gradually, and I saw opposite me Ge Ma holding up his pistol, smoke still curling from the muzzle.

I was both startled and delighted, I pushed myself up from the ground and asked, "Ga Hong, are you still alive? Weren't you hit by the secret police?"

Ge Ma pulled an ornament from the collar of his uniform and said, "Since I enlisted I've never worn an amulet, but before setting out today I dreamed of wolves, so I put it on." Ge Ma's medic's head had previously struck a stone, and the small‑caliber bullet from the silenced pistol happened to hit the amulet exactly; the amulet shattered, though no bullet entered his body, the impact knocked him unconscious for a while.

The amulet is a Tibetan protective charm; its form varies by sex—women's are larger and rounder, made of silver on the outside, inside they hold a Buddha image, blessed with mantras, a vajra, and assorted talismanic objects; some contain relics. Ge Ma's amulet contained a nine‑eyed stone, agate, and a wolf tooth left from centuries ago; legend says only a sage can wield the wolf king's fang, and those two old wolves must have caught the scent of their forefather's aura, which made them hesitate before biting.

I loaded the semi‑automatic rifle, then took Ge Ma the medic to look for the two lamas who had been staying by the pond; there had been no movement, and I didn't know if they were still safe. On the surrounding mountain ridges, specks of green wolf eyes glittered everywhere, countless in number; the remaining starving wolves all followed the wolf king's call, but with the bright moon in the sky they would run a few steps, then couldn't help stopping to howl at the moon, each long howl adding a touch of ferocity to their bodies.

Seeing the ravenous wolves everywhere, I had no choice but to quicken my pace; after a few steps Ge Ma said she might have been concussed from the blow, her vision repeatedly going dark; I was about to turn back to help her when, under the frosty bright moon, I suddenly spotted that white‑furred giant wolf crouched silently some thirty‑odd meters behind us, its single eye fixed on us with a fierce glare; the clear moonlight and biting wind made its white coat look like a bundle of silver wind‑horse flags trembling in the breeze—I hastily raised my rifle, worked the bolt, but when I looked up again it had vanished into the moonlight.