Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two: Ruins of the Ancient City of Xiye

Sand Sea Demon Nest 8

Since we encountered the violent black sandstorm at noon, we chased the white camel and rushed into the ruins of this nameless small city in the sand sea, I felt that this ruined city, inside and out, was shrouded in a mysterious veil, and I could not tell whether danger lay hidden beneath that veil, so I remained highly vigilant; everyone rested, but I dared not relax in the slightest.

Suddenly I saw the stone statue's eyes twitch slightly; although it was a bit far away and the indoor light was dim, I still trusted my eyes would not deceive me, so I stood up and walked to the wall beside the giant-eyed stone statue to examine it.

The kerosene lamp hanging from the beam was shaken unsteadily by the wild wind blowing into the ruined house, the light flickered, casting alternating brightness and darkness in the ruined house, and the black stone statue resembled a buried corpse, only its head exposed, the rest buried in the yellow sand.

Upon closer inspection, I saw that on the stone statue's eyes, a large ant was perched, about the size of a finger joint, its body pitch black, its tail blood-red, and when shaken by the kerosene lamp's light, it flashed a faint gleam; from afar, it looked as if the stone statue's eyes were blinking.

Seeing it was just an ant, I flicked it away with my finger, sending it to the ground, then stepped on it with my foot; I only heard a light "crack" as it was crushed into a pulp. What struck me as slightly strange was that this large ant's body was much harder than that of an ordinary ant.

I looked around; the ruined house was drafty everywhere, and I did not know where this ant had crawled in from. Shirley Yang came over and asked what was happening. I said nothing, just that there was an ant, and I had stepped on it to death.

I woke the sleeping Pangzi and told him to take watch, then added some solid fuel to the fire to make it burn brighter, extinguished the kerosene lamp, and crawled into my sleeping bag to sleep.

My body was fatigued, and I soon fell asleep. When I woke up, it was already past nine in the morning of the next day; the sandstorm outside had blown all night and had not yet ceased, though its force had greatly diminished compared to before—this devilish sandstorm was finally about to end.

A large section of the ancient city ruins had sunk into the yellow sand, and the part exposed above ground was now small; after two more such sandstorms, this nameless ancient city would likely vanish into the desert. However, even if completely buried by yellow sand, it does not mean it is permanently buried, for over half of the Taklamakan Desert is mobile sand, shifting with the wind; who knows how many years later it might see the light of day again.

Hao Aiguo was directing the students in excavating the stone statue at the wall corner, having already dug down to its thighs; the crowd gathered around to watch, only An Liman took advantage of the weakening wind to go out and check on the camels hidden beneath the city wall.

I took out some dry rations from my pack, eating while I went to watch them dig. This time, following the archaeological team into the desert, besides wanting to see if there were any large ancient tombs, I also wished to learn some archaeological experience from these experts.

Afraid of damaging the carvings on the stone statue's body, they only used engineering shovels to dig away the surrounding sand, then used flat shovels and brushes to clean bit by bit; they dug a section, cleaned a section, while simultaneously making various records.

Seeing I had awakened, Professor Chen nodded at me in greeting; it seemed his health was already fine. He told me that this time was simply to let the students practice their hands and gain some field experience; although theoretical knowledge is important, for archaeology, field practice is equally important—only by observing more, touching more, and doing more on site can one develop an intuitive sense, which, when combined with theory, leads to much faster progress.

Not long after, the students cleared down to the statue's base. This was my first time seeing such a giant-eyed stone statue: the statue wore Hu clothing, its arms hung down, and its body was carved with many patterns, seemingly some esoteric scripture. According to Professor Chen, these inscriptions have never been deciphered, but with recent expansion in archaeological research, experts believe they should be some kind of symbol or cipher recording information about ancient religions. As for why these symbols were carved onto the stone statue, perhaps it relates to ritual practices. However, related documents, murals, historical records, and other materials are completely absent; to this day, these remain mere speculation.

Salite Peng, listening nearby to the professor's explanation, asked: "Professor, the appearance of this stone statue differs greatly from that of ordinary people. I think it possible that in ancient times there was a religion worshipping extraterrestrials; after seeing extraterrestrials, they regarded them as heavenly gods and thus created such stone statues to worship. The symbols on these stone statues are a kind of extraterrestrial language."

Hao Aiguo immediately criticized him: "Little Sal, you usually don't study hard; I've told you so many times—you are a smart child, don't misuse your brains. How could you come up with extraterrestrials? When dealing with history and archaeology, one must be serious."

Professor Chen did not get angry; instead, he revealed a kind smile: "Having imagination is not a bad thing, young people—active thinking is excellent. Unity and tension, seriousness and liveliness—these are not contradictory at all. However, in our archaeology and historical research, we must follow one principle: bold assumptions, cautious verification. Imagination must be built upon real evidence; imagination lacking evidence is not solid. Let us take this giant-eyed stone statue as an example: ancient people liked to judge fortune and misfortune through astronomical phenomena; whenever night fell, they gazed at the starry sky—would they not wish their eyes could see farther? When crafting the stone statue, would they not have incorporated this wish? This possibility is very high. Sichuan's Sanxingdui has also unearthed some figurines with elongated eyes extending outward; conservatively speaking, this most likely expresses the ancient people's desire for exploration."

Upon hearing this, I could not help but admire: the professor truly has depth, not using grand principles to overwhelm others. Compared to Professor Chen's stature, Hao Aiguo falls far short.

Professor Chen continued: "The extraterrestrials you mentioned are also not impossible, and it is not that mentioning extraterrestrials means referring to the fictional science fantasy in foreign novels. In fact, the earliest records of extraterrestrials still appear in our ancient Chinese notes and murals. As early as seven thousand five hundred years ago, in the primitive tribal murals of Helan Mountain, there appeared the image of astronauts in space suits emerging from a large disc, with surrounding animals and residents scattering in panic. These probably could not have been imagined by the imagination of people at that time; they should be a record of a major disaster and event, a documentary mural. Similar situations appear in the bronze vessels of the Xia and Shang dynasties, as well as in some ancient texts..."

At this moment, An Liman leapt back through the hole in the roof amidst the wind and sand, telling everyone the sandstorm would soon pass—within half an hour the sky would clear, all thanks to the blessings of the True Lord; the sand had nearly swallowed the outer city walls, and if it blew for another two hours, we would be buried alive here today.

Although the others were still somewhat worried—though they saw the wind had weakened, they did not know when it would stop—An Liman's words completely put their hearts at ease. The students listened attentively to Professor Chen's lecture, while I boiled a pot of tea on the fire, preparing to let everyone finish drinking before we set out on the road.

Just as the tea came to a boil, the several people gathered around the giant-eyed stone statue suddenly screamed in unison and jumped backward, some shouting: "Ah...... why are there so many large ants?" others shouting: "Ouch! This side has them too!"

I hurried over to see: only to find the sand beneath the stone statue's feet bulging into a large mound, like a spring spewing out countless large ants. Someone used a shovel to swat them, killing hundreds at once, but simultaneously thousands more emerged from the sand. Dense and numerous, the sight made people's scalps tingle.

At first I thought they had dug into an ant nest while shoveling sand, but I immediately realized this was not the case—dozens of large holes appeared on the ground, from which more and more ants crawled out, each with a pitch-black body and a blood-red tail, red and black alternating, like an endless tide of floodwaters.

An Liman only glanced at it, then turned and ran outside; Pangzi and the others still wanted to use the engineering shovel to swat them, but at that very moment, the ants had already become too numerous to handle.

Shirley Yang is a photographer for the American National Geographic Magazine, has been to many places, and has broad experience; only hearing her anxiously shout to everyone: "Everyone, quickly climb out through the roof—these are desert legion ants; if you move slowly, you'll be gnawed down to skeletons."

Tens of thousands of desert legion ants had already filled half the room, and more kept crawling out from underground without cease—not only underground, but also on the beams, inside the walls, everywhere crawling out. Professor Chen and Ye Yixin, among others, were so shocked by this horrifying sight that their legs went weak, and they could not take even half a step.

Sand Sea Demon Nest 9

Let alone those few intellectuals—even I and Pangzi felt our whole bodies trembling; these desert legion ants are too terrifying—perhaps the human skeleton originally in the house was their handiwork, no wonder not a bit of flesh remained.

I struggled to calm myself; upon looking around, I discovered that old rascal An Liman had again fled first—damn it, this old slippery eel, seeing danger he runs, yesterday he had sworn solemnly to share weal and woe with us.

No time to curse An Liman that stinking old fool; seeing the engineering shovel's swatting could no longer hold back the tide-like desert legion ants, I kicked over the fire under the tea kettle, dumped the entire half-can of solid fuel onto the ground, forming a wall of fire in the house; the ant colony touching the fire wall was immediately scorched, slightly blocking the advance of the desert legion ants.

Those desert legion ants are too numerous and without hesitation charged at the fire wall, trying to use their numbers to extinguish the flames; fortunately, the solid fuel burns very strongly, though being extinguished by the ant swarm is merely a matter of time.

Seizing this moment, we grabbed whatever luggage and equipment we could, pulled and dragged, and all got out of the ruined house. Outside, the wind and sand had already diminished greatly; only see hundreds of Tibetan antelopes, wild camels, sand wolves, sand rats, and hyenas scrambling in the ruins of the ancient city—not only the large house we had just been in, but many places were emitting patches of desert legion ants; some animals, having run a little slower, were immediately covered by the desert legion ants.

The mouths of the desert legion ants contain large amounts of formic acid; tens of thousands biting at once, even an elephant could not withstand it—some sand wolves and Tibetan antelopes kept collapsing, and after the desert legion ants passed, they were left with nothing but a pile of white bones.

How many desert legion ants are in this city? Not just tens of millions—it seems the entire ancient city is a giant ant nest. We were trapped on the roof, only able to wave the engineering shovel to sweep off the legion ants crawling up.

At the base of the distant city wall, An Liman was busy untying the ropes binding the camels; I threw my rifle to Pangzi: "Shoot his hat."

Pangzi raised the rifle, aimed without hesitation at An Liman and pulled the trigger—"Bang!"—An Liman's fur hat was blown off by the bullet, startling him into shrinking his neck, then he turned his head to look at the people on the roof.

I shouted at him: "Old man, if you dare to run, the second shot will hit your buttocks—Hu Da certainly won't object."

An Liman waved his hands repeatedly, indicating he would not run. But the ground below was already covered with desert legion ants; we could not go down for now, and staying on the roof was no solution. Just as I was not paying attention, I saw a collapsed wall suddenly tumble down, and a large ant the size of a young calf crawled out from within.

This is the queen ant, with six pairs of transparent large wings on her body—perhaps due to the sandstorm's assault, she was startled from deep within the nest and is now preparing to migrate.

Seeing the queen ant's such imposing presence, the archaeological team members all turned pale; Shirley Yang shouted: "Capture the bandit by capturing the leader—quickly shoot and kill it."

Pangzi slapped the handle of his sporting rifle, anxiously stamping his feet: "This rifle's caliber is too small—damn it, I can't move it!" Though he said that, he still fired, shooting all remaining bullets in the magazine toward the queen ant.

I took off the scarf I used to block wind and sand, wrapped the remaining solid fuel entirely in the scarf, lit a corner of it with a lighter, using it as an incendiary bomb, and hurled it from the roof down at the queen ant below.

This tactic actually worked remarkably well—the fire, aided by the wind, enveloped the giant queen ant's body; the queen ant felt pain, struggled and rolled in the sand, the more it rolled the larger the fire grew; this compressed fuel, even a little amount can burn for ten or more minutes, let alone this half-can, about a kilogram—the fire grew ever larger, the surrounding desert legion ants exploded their nests, recklessly charging toward the queen ant, hoping to use their numbers to extinguish the flames.

Seeing the opportunity, I gestured to everyone, picked up the engineering shovel and led the jump down from the ruined house, scattering the scattered desert legion ants; the big guy Chu Jian carried Professor Chen on his back, Hao Aiguo and Ye Yixin supported each other, Pangzi brought up the rear, and the group all rushed out through the breach.

By then, An Liman had already brought the startled camel herd under control; everyone climbed onto the camels, urged the camel team to run toward the city outskirts; beside us, various wild beasts leapt about—normally encounters are life-or-death, but now no one could afford to care about anyone else, all were desperately fleeing.

The camel team ran several hundred meters; I looked back—the ruined remains of the ancient city of Xiye were no longer visible; countless desert legion ants tumbled and rolled like boiling red-black seawater, surging up from underground. However, as long as we were not surrounded by this great ant legion, we were safe.

An Liman explained that he wanted to go out first, untie the ropes binding the camels—otherwise, if the ant legion gnawed the camels down to skeletons, we would not be able to escape even if we wanted to; it was not that he fled first to save himself.

Pangzi did not believe him, pointing with his big thumb at the rifle on his back: "Don't try to feed me that; if you need to explain later, explain it to this rifle of mine."

An Liman's reason seemed quite sufficient, and one cannot simply conclude he abandoned everyone to flee alone; later in the desert there are still many places where we cannot do without him, and I did not want to fall out with him over this, so I stopped Pangzi from continuing.

I said to An Liman: "We in the desert together saw the auspicious white camel, and together escaped the siege of the desert legion ants—these are all the will of Hu Da; he believes we are brothers, all devout believers, so we all trust you; whoever betrays friends and brothers, Hu Da will punish him."

An Liman repeatedly said: "Praise Allah, Hu Da is the one true God; we, we are the best of friends and brothers; Allah will surely bless us."

This not-big-not-small, perilous-but-safe interlude is now considered ended; who knows what troubles await us in the depths of the sand sea beyond Xiye Ancient City? I still need to think of a way to persuade Professor Chen and the others to turn back.

We still have less than half a day's journey to the ruins of Xiye Ancient City; the wind has stopped, the sun like a fireball hangs in midair; traveling in the desert, the most important thing is to maintain sufficient water in the body; daytime travel is normally a major taboo, but our water supply is still ample, and we can replenish clean water at Xiye City, so we press forward under the scorching sun like fire.

The daytime desert presents another scene: in ancient times, the orogeny of the Ximara Mountains formed the Tarim Basin; the entire Xinjiang terrain is like a large bowl, holding a bowl of golden yellow sand; and our caravan of nine people and nineteen camels is truly minuscule—its proportion is not even one ten-thousandth of a grain of sand in that bowl of gold.

The vast desert stretches boundlessly, with no edge; were it not for the long footprints behind us, we might not even feel we are constantly moving forward—truly admirable are those lone explorers who venture alone into the desert gravel plains; perhaps only such solitary walking between heaven and earth can one truly experience the meaning of life. Admiration aside, I do not intend to live that way in this life; I still find collective living more suitable for me.

Salite Peng and others are very curious; as we walk, they let Shirley Yang tell them about the desert legion ants. Shirley Yang has never actually seen them before, only seen villages ravaged by desert legion ants, where people and livestock were gnawed down to bare bones—a horrifying sight.

The reason this ant legion is called "legion ants" is because they possess high organizational discipline, with soldier ants as the main force; if compared to human armies, aside from mobility and firepower, the coordinated organizational ability of well-trained human armies simply cannot be mentioned in the same breath as that of desert legion ants.

They walked and talked, the sand dunes beneath their feet rising and falling unevenly, their undulations unprecedented; Anliman said these dense dunes buried ancient cities swallowed by yellow sand, he led everyone up to the highest great sand dune, pointing south and telling them that was their intermediate station, the ruins of Xiye Ancient City.

I raised my binoculars and looked southward, taking in the entire oasis in the heart of the desert sea.

Desert Demon Nest 10

The oasis in the desert was like a green emerald set upon a golden platter; from afar, a black city ruin stood upright within it.

The ruins of Xiye City were remarkably well preserved, the city dating relatively late, lasting until the late Tang before being destroyed in war, after which it was abandoned to this day; in the early nineteenth century, German explorers discovered the place, looting all the murals, statues, and other artworks of value from the ruins.

In the desert only this empty city remained, the ancient Peacock River channel ending here; since the city had underground water flowing through it year-round, ancient to present, it became an important resupply point for desert travelers.

The camel caravan descended the great sand dune and slowly advanced toward the oasis; Anliman and I discussed resting two more days at Xiye City before entering the Black Desert, for once inside, turning back would be difficult; these days the camels had been frightened and were carrying heavy loads, so they needed proper rest to regain strength before setting out again.

This suited me perfectly; I wished to stay a few more days to find an excuse to persuade the archaeological team to turn back home, and not bother with the Jingjue Ancient City, just dig a couple of holes nearby and wander about; lately I felt increasingly inadequate, and venturing deeper into the desert would surely bring disaster, and by then I doubted I would be as fortunate as before.

I slowed my camel's pace and rode alongside Professor Chen, saying: "Professor, now that we've entered Xiye City, how about resting three to five days, then setting out again in five or six? Anliman said the camels are all exhausted; if we don't let them rest properly, we'll have to switch to '11'."

Professor Chen listened, bewildered, and asked: "What… '11'? How do you 'open' it?"

I said: "Professor, you don't even know what '11' is? It's just walking on two legs." Having said that, I mimicked walking with two fingers: "Isn't this '11'?"

Professor Chen laughed: "Ah, Hu Xiaodi, where do you get all these fresh terms? Quite interesting. Well, let's rest properly here for a few days; I also want to thoroughly examine the ruins of this famous city."

From the sand dune, the oasis looked close, yet it took us three full hours to reach it; the city walls were built of black stone, some sections already collapsed and weathered, severely damaged, only the central inner city remained fairly sturdy, still faintly showing its former grandeur; some oil workers, expedition teams, and geological survey teams passing through had stayed in the inner city, barring the doors with stones to avoid wolf attacks.

Since the mid-1970s, Inner Mongolia, Xinjiang, and Tibet have launched massive wolf eradication campaigns; large wolf packs have been completely wiped out, leaving only scattered groups of three to five or lone wolves, posing no threat.

Moreover, we are numerous and armed, so naturally we need not fear wolves; it is the windy season, and aside from us, no one else comes here; we found a spacious room in the inner city, lit a campfire, and cooked food and tea.

Anliman and I found the ancient well in the city; it is said the well has never run dry for thousands of years; Anliman said it was a divine trace of Hu Da; I remained noncommittal, drew up a bucket of water with a leather bucket—the well was very deep, and only after lowering a rope several tens of meters did I hear the splash; pulling it up, I first took a sip—ice-cold, ice-cold, it went straight to my heart and spleen, the fiery heat from being scorched by the poisonous sun in the desert vanished instantly, and I felt an indescribable comfort and relief.

I placed all nineteen camels beside the well, let them drink their fill, then gave them salted bean cakes to eat; afterward, I carried two large buckets of well water back to the room where the archaeological team members rested.

These people were utterly exhausted, collapsed on the ground snoring loudly, some still biting half a biscuit in their mouths, having fallen asleep mid-bite; I did not disturb them—they had suffered enough these past few days.

I boiled a large pot of water, then woke Professor Chen and the others one by one, forcing them to scald their feet with hot water, then lanced all the blisters on their feet.

After finishing all this, I finally went to sleep, dazed and sleeping soundly for a full day and night; my weary body finally recovered; that evening, the group sat together listening to Pangzi boast.

Pangzi spoke fluently, telling everyone how rich the products of the northeastern old forests were, how delicious the mountain delicacies and wild game were, nothing like the desert—where there is only sand and sand, the wind is strong, and even a bite of yellow sheep meat leaves a mouthful of sand grit, especially in the Greater and Lesser Khingan ranges, where all kinds of good food exist; since ancient times there has been this saying: 'Strike a roe deer with a club, scoop fish with a ladle, wild flies into the rice pot.' Can you imagine the hunters' free and easy life?

Several students with little experience were utterly taken in by Pangzi's tall tales; Sa Dipeng pushed up the glasses on his nose bridge and asked curiously: "Brother Wang, what does 'strike a roe deer with a club' mean? Do you hit it with a stick?"

Pangzi said: "Little glasses, you're eager to learn, so I'll tell you: it means when you walk through the deep mountains, grab a stick, swing it casually, and smash a roe deer dead; in the river, use a ladle, scoop blindly, and you'll catch big fat fish—this is what 'abundant resources' means."

Shirley Yang snorted, dismissing Pangzi's words: "The desert also has its own merits; the variety of desert flora and fauna is no less than that of forests; moreover, although the Taklamakan Desert lies in the lowest part of the basin, in a certain sense it is a peak of ancient civilization; what else do forests have besides wild deer and black bears?"

Afraid they would start arguing, I quickly said there were ladies in the room, so the two of us should go out for a cigarette; as I spoke, I pulled Pangzi outside.

The moon hung bright as a painting, countless stars like brocade, bathing the earth in silver light; I lit a cigarette for Pangzi, urged him to yield a little to Shirley Yang; Pangzi said I certainly couldn't match her level of understanding, Americans don't know things, we can't be ignorant either, besides, she's just a woman—if she were a man, I'd have long since twisted his head off and used it as a ball to kick.

I laughed: "Exactly, exactly—what kind of person are you? You could piss and leave a big hole in the gray earth; you really need to have the magnanimity of an adult, don't go pulling Shirley Yang's hair out, or else who would I go to for my wages? Twenty thousand mei zi—that's no small sum."

After joking a few sentences, I raised my head and blew a smoke ring; only then did I see in the sky the Giant Gate Star, Left Assistant Star, and Right Assistant Star—three stars shining, arranged in a perfect equilateral triangle, with the Sun Star and Moon Star appearing together at the center, forming a fine set of Qianjia Xuanjin Jiji stars.

I had never before carefully studied celestial star fengshui; I had only skimmed through it a few times to earn money with the archaeological team, but now, upon looking, the content of the Heavenly Volume in the fengshui secret arts immediately surfaced in my mind.

I hurried back to the room, took the compass, climbed to the top of the city tower, and matched it with the stars in the sky; the auspicious star-covered area lay right at the ancient well in the city—this was my first time practicing celestial star fengshui; I had no confidence, but likely wouldn't be wrong; my family's copy of the *Sixteen-Character Yin-Yang Fengshui Secret Art* is no vulgar object, so it must mean that near underground water veins, there will certainly be ancient tombs? Tombs do have the saying of 'embracing water,' but isn't this perhaps too close?

No matter how to say it, this is a major discovery; I must inform the archaeological team, hoping they find something at this discovery point, gain something, so they won't insist on entering the Black Desert.

Desert Demon Nest 11

Professor Chen was overjoyed, leading the students eagerly to the well, arranging to go down and see; the well's railing and winch were later replacements, the original having been destroyed at some unknown time.

Anliman stopped everyone, saying: "This is a holy well, after all; Hu Da does not allow ordinary people to go down."

Hao Aiguo pulled Anliman aside and gave him a lengthy talk on archaeological policy: excavating tombs is for better protection, so this cultural wealth can be left to the people; nowadays, tomb-robbing incidents in Xinjiang are frequent, even foreigners come to sneak and dig; if the government does not step in to protect, these precious things will all be lost.

Shirley Yang and I discussed it; the well is deep, we could make a double-loop safety lock to lower someone down and see what's below.

That would have to be me going down; although there is a water current below, I still dare not be careless—I put on a gas mask, flashlight, whistle, engineer's shovel, dagger, secretly hid a black donkey hoof and a tomb-snatching talisman, tested the rope's sturdiness, agreed on communication methods: if I shake the flashlight upward three times, those above will see it and stop lowering the rope; a second upward shake means pull me up; to prevent accidents, I also brought the whistle—if I can't see the flashlight's light, I'll use whistle signals to communicate.

By then, Hao Aiguo had already worked on Anliman's mindset; Chu Jian Pangzi added to that, and the three of them lowered me down; I descended bit by bit from the well mouth.

At that moment it was night; aside from the flashlight's beam, everything around was a pitch-black mass; I could not even clearly see the well mouth above; the deeper I went, the colder the desert night air became, and combined with the well's high humidity, I felt a chill from my very bones outward.

The well walls were slippery, hard to gain footing; it is said this ancient well predates even last year's Xiye City ruins—first came the well, then the city; suddenly a cool breeze blew; I hastily shone my flashlight and saw a stone door on the well wall.

I aimed at the top, whistled and shook the flashlight; this point was not far from the well mouth—only about fifteen or sixteen meters deep; as long as I spoke loudly, those above could hear me; they received the signal and immediately stopped lowering the rope; I happened to be suspended just below the stone door.

The cold wind came from the crack in the stone door; I pushed with my hand—it felt very thick, no stone bolt or bar, the gap was large but I couldn't push it open; I would need a pry bar to open it.

Seeing I couldn't get in, I gave the second signal, asking them to pull me up; I then described in detail what I had seen below; Professor Chen exclaimed in amazement: "Strange—this might not be a tomb, but perhaps a secret passage or something; who has ever heard of a tomb built beside a well, still leaving such a mysterious passage?"

Pangzi volunteered: "No matter what it is, guessing randomly is boring; let's just go in and see—you lower me down, I'll pry open the stone door."

I said: "Forget it—if we're going down, I'll take the pry bar myself; Pangzi, you're too heavy; if you accidentally snap the rope, we'll still have to go down into the well to fish you out."

This time we made a rope ladder; that way, once the stone door is opened, whoever wants to go down can climb down the ladder; finally, it was decided that the four going down would be Professor Chen, Shirley Yang, Sa Dipeng, and me; Pangzi and the others would stay above.

Still, I went down first, using the pry bar to move the stone door; it seemed this door had often been opened and closed before, otherwise there wouldn't be such a large gap; but perhaps it hadn't been opened in the last few hundred years; on the rope ladder I couldn't exert force, and opening this door truly took considerable effort.

Behind the stone door was a brick-and-stone passageway, spacious and orderly, inside pitch-black and unfathomably deep; I called down to Shirley Yang and the others above, one by one pulling those three into the passageway.

Shirley Yang handed out a kind of pill to everyone, saying it could prevent hypoxia, then had everyone put on their gas masks; after that, going inside would be completely safe.

The four of us walked inward about fifty meters, passing two stone doors in succession; the last door was sealed very tightly, its surface carved with unknown strange beasts, the door gap covered with animal hide; I used a flat shovel to cut the hide into pieces, then managed to open the door.

Reaching the end, we entered a spacious, dry stone chamber, roughly sixty to seventy meters long and wide, three meters high; the four of us standing inside felt no sense of crowding.

Though the space was spacious, the atmosphere was far from relaxed; the ground was littered with white bones, nowhere to place a foot; those bones were all animal remains, extremely loose, crumbling at a step; around stood dozens of wooden pillars, each bound with a wind-dried human corpse, all appearing to be sturdy young men.

I, Professor Chen, and Shirley Yang have all undergone much trials; we merely found this place eerie, not frightening; only Sa Dipeng, seeing so many dried corpses, was so terrified he could hardly speak, following the professor wherever he went, daring not to stray a step.

Shirley Yang looked at those dried corpses and sighed: "Truly pitiful—these must be sacrificial slaves or prisoners or the like; truly barbaric."

Professor Chen said to everyone: "It appears this is a place for conducting important funerary rites for the deceased; this was the custom of ancient Pumo; these people were all criminals, tied in the desert and left to die of thirst, then completely wind-dried before being placed here; afterward, they slaughtered animals and poured the fresh blood over these dried corpses; let us look around—there should be a tomb chamber here."

We circled once, inspected all around; all four walls were stone; tapping them revealed solid backing behind, no other space.

Still, Shirley Yang was observant; she noticed the stone floor had an issue; I cleared away the bone fragments on the ground, revealing a large stone slab with carvings, still bearing two lifting rings at its ends.

I called Sa Dipeng to help me lift the stone slab; seeing him tremble all over, I couldn't help but laugh, so I let him return the way he came, lest he wet his pants from fright here; incidentally, I had Hao Aiguo step down—he would certainly be interested in this strange tomb.

Sa Dipeng dashed back as if pardoned; Professor Chen, both annoyed and amused, said: "Ah, this child, his courage is too small—he's no material for archaeology."

Shirley Yang and I joined forces to lift the stone slab on the ground, then tossed down a cold firework, illuminating the space below; we saw a chamber below, roughly the same size as the one above, with a square coffin placed in the center; calling it a coffin differs too much from inland ones—it has no decorative patterns, nor is it rectangular; it is perfectly square, more like a large box.

This kind of tomb and coffin style—let alone me not having seen it before, even Professor Chen, with his vast erudition, couldn't make heads or tails of it; this is probably a burial form of some ancient minority ethnic group long lost to transmission, heavily influenced by Han culture to a large extent, yet made to seem similar but not quite, with many of their own elements added in—truly exceedingly rare.

At this time, Hao Aiguo arrived with Chu Jian; upon seeing the scene here, he became so excited his eyes lit up, put on his gas mask, and was the first to jump down, looking here and there, his back of the head nearly blooming with joy; I had always thought him a stern and rigid person, but I never expected him to act like a child at this moment—he was practically jumping and clapping, scratching his head and cheeks.

We also successively descended into the lower burial chamber; upon looking around, we couldn't help but exclaim "Ah!"—the four walls of the burial chamber were entirely covered with exquisite, unparalleled colorful murals.

Seeing one of them, Professor Chen also became excited enough to snort: "This… this painting depicts events related to the Jingjue State."

What I most wanted to see were valuable burial goods; this coffin is not small, so there might be something good inside; although I couldn't take anything in front of the professors, I could at least broaden my horizons—I now feel that a noble's tomb is more luxurious than that general's tomb at Heifengkou.

But Professor Chen was examining the murals in the tomb chamber and paid no attention to the coffin in the middle; I had no choice but to wait patiently, only listening as Professor Chen gave his commentary on these murals to Hao Aiguo and the others.

These first few murals indicate that the tomb's occupant, in life, was a prince of Gumo; Gumo was a vassal state of Jingjue, long oppressed, each year presenting vast amounts of treasure and cattle and sheep slaves; he had once gone to the Jingjue queen to request freedom for his subjects, making three trips in succession, yet never saw the queen's face.

This mural likely depicts his unwillingness; the brave prince is an incarnation of the Sun War God, he alone infiltrated Jingjue intending to assassinate the evil queen, but discovered a great secret.

As I listened, I found myself drawn in by the professor's words; I was curious what exactly that secret was; I walked over and joined Shirley Yang and the others in listening to the professor's explanation.

Professor Chen walked to the next mural, examined it closely for a long time: "This meaning is rather strange—you see, the prince hides in a corner peeking; the face of the Jingjue queen, in all the murals, is veiled, but in this painting the queen shows only her back, one hand lifting her veil, facing a person who seems like a slave or the like, who then turns into a shadow… and vanishes?"

I listened, utterly confused, about to ask for clarification, when Shirley Yang said: "This queen is… a demon."

Sand Sea Demon Lair 12

"A demon?" Professor Chen, hearing this, was slightly stunned, then immediately said to Shirley: "Interesting—tell us your thoughts."

Shirley Yang pointed at the mural and said: "The painter of this mural has superb artistic skill, the composition is magnificent and lifelike, depicting major events in the life of the Pumo king; although there are no textual annotations, the features are very distinct, we can gain an intuitive understanding from the murals, clearly grasping the events and figures depicted."

As I listened to her analysis of the murals and observed carefully, indeed, as she said, the figures, clothing, architecture, and expressions in the murals are lifelike; if one has some knowledge of Western Regions culture, one can roughly grasp the background of the events recorded through these details in the painting.

Shirley Yang continued: "The mural you just mentioned, Professor, is the most difficult to understand among all the murals; in the painting, the queen lifts the veil that has always covered her face, and the figure opposite her becomes a dashed line; all figures in these murals are realistic, except that anyone who sees the Jingjue queen's true face turns into a dashed line, only a faint, vague outline is drawn; from this sole outline, we cannot discern the identity of this figure… we can only speculate that this dashed-line figure is a slave or assassin of some kind, someone the queen wishes to eliminate."

Hearing this, I couldn't help but interject: "Miss Yang, you mean… the person who sees the queen's face in the painting then vanishes?"

Shirley Yang said: "What Mr. Hu said is close; if I were to explain it in my own words, I would say the queen's gaze upon this person causes him to vanish."

I shook my head with a wry smile: "A living person? Just one glance and gone? Vanished? This… this is too… unbelievable; frankly, I find it hard to comprehend."

Professor Chen seemed to grasp Shirley Yang's meaning, gesturing for her to continue.

Shirley Yang said: "Although I am only speculating, this is not baseless; my father in life enjoyed reading a book called *Records of the Western Regions during the Tang Dynasty*, written by the Tang monk Xuanzang; I have also read it several times; the book records many legends of the ancient Western Regions, some mythical, some based on real events; among them is a legend of a desert queen: in the depths of the desert lies a city inhabited by an underground minority ethnic group that ruled and conquered surrounding small states; after hundreds of years, the throne passed to the last queen; legend says her eyes are a passage to the netherworld—she need only glance at her enemy, and he vanishes without trace, never to return; where the vanished go, only they themselves know; the queen ruled with an iron fist, demanding all neighboring peoples worship her as a true goddess; all who resisted were flayed alive; perhaps her actions provoked Heaven, and after a few years she contracted a strange illness and died."

Those slaves most feared the queen; upon her death, the slaves and several oppressed neighboring states formed an alliance, blood-washed the queen's capital, and prepared to destroy her tomb—when suddenly heaven and earth changed color, a terrible sandstorm swallowed both the capital and the alliance, burying the queen's tomb and the countless treasures she had amassed beneath the yellow sands; after several hundred years, the desert's shifting sands revealed the capital once more; some travelers passing through, if they took even a single item from the city, would trigger a desert storm—smoke and clouds rising suddenly, roads lost, and those who took the queen's treasures could never leave.

But this legend of the mysterious capital, the evil queen, and its historical background—none of which are clearly recorded in the book—today, seeing these murals in the tomb, comparing them to that ancient legend, we find many striking similarities, making one feel it is not merely a legend, but perhaps such events truly occurred in buried history.

Shirley Yang had everyone look at the following murals: "We can be certain the queen in the painting is the Jingjue queen due to the Jingjue people's distinctive clothing, unique architecture, and ornaments—these are the strongest evidence. Professor, Mr. Hu, take another look at the murals behind—this further confirms my speculation—*these murals clearly convey that the prince's assassination attempt failed; after returning home, he continued plotting how to eliminate the queen; at this point, the prince encountered a diviner from a distant land, who advised him to hide a specially crafted slow-acting poison in lamb meat and present it as tribute to the queen. Sure enough, not long after, news came of the queen's sudden violent death. Meanwhile, the prince, from overwork, died prematurely; he and his beloved wife were buried together. The diviner designed a tomb, placing them beneath the altar of the Holy Spring."

It turns out the altar was built first, then this tomb chamber; and the events recorded in this mural match the book's legend precisely; seeing Shirley Yang, though a photographer, is actually from an archaeological family with deep scholarly roots—an old classmate having such a daughter—filled me with deep satisfaction; at this moment, thinking of that old friend lost in the desert depths, I couldn't help but shed tears.

Shirley Yang said to the professor: "Please take care of your health, don't grieve too much—this trip we've gained a lot, our understanding of Jingjue relics has made a breakthrough in substantive progress; I believe we will soon find the ancient city of Jingjue; may your father in heaven have spirit, and may he rest in peace."

I silently cursed in my heart—I had wanted to find an ancient tomb so they'd just turn back and leave, but things turned out contrary to my wishes; seeing this situation, even advising them would be useless; I wish I had pretended not to see anything at first.

I suddenly recalled Shirley Yang saying the Jingjue queen was a demon, so I asked: "Miss Yang, I remember earlier when you all discussed this, you said the queen was the greatest beauty of the Western Regions, that other women before her were like stars seeing the sun and paling in comparison—how then do you say she is a demon? If she truly is a demon, wouldn't going to her tomb be suicide?"

Shirley Yang said: "These are all legends, plus our speculation, not necessarily factual; archaeology is like this—legends, records, unearthed artifacts, plus scholars' conjectures—the more such content, the closer we get to historical truth; but all we can do is approach truth infinitely; no history can be fully restored. In ancient times, human understanding of the world was low; some phenomena that seem ordinary today were exaggerated into demons, monsters, or divine signs; even today, with advanced science, some phenomena remain unexplained by science—I believe this is not because gods and demons truly exist, but because science's domain of exploration is still too limited; in the years to come, science will surely uncover answers to all mysteries."

I then asked: "Then how should we understand, in today's scientifically and civilly advanced world, the claim that the Jingjue queen could make people vanish with her eyes?"

Shirley Yang said: "Mr. Hu, have you heard of that sensational event in the United States? At the Special Phenomena and Pathology Research Center in Kansas, there once appeared a peculiar patient—a twelve-year-old boy who, from childhood, had a special ability: staring fixedly at an object less than five centimeters in diameter for a long time would cause it to vanish, as if evaporated into air. Neighbors regarded him as a freak, calling him a demon. His parents were deeply distressed, hoping government departments could help cure him."

How strange—I've never heard of this; I know little about Chinese affairs, let alone American oddities—what exactly is this condition? Listening to it, it sounds exactly like the demon queen legend—was this boy finally cured?

Shirley Yang said: "After scientists studied him, they found his brainwaves differed from normal; his brain and visual nerves generated a kind of energy transport, connecting to a numerical space (an unknowable space); this special ability occurs in humans at a ratio of one in three billion; finally, a researcher found a method: they made a magnetic helmet and placed it on the boy's head; after a year, his special ability vanished. At the time, the U. S. military had planned to secretly send him to a military research institute, but the plan leaked, caused an uproar among the public, and the military had to abandon it."

Hearing this, I still had doubts—perhaps the evil queen in the legend is not as simple as that American boy; I don't fear death, but if we truly find the queen's tomb and are taken by her to some unknown place, what then? Anyway, we'll take it step by step; if real danger arises, I'll use strong measures to bring them back—who dares disobey orders? Damn it, I don't believe it—can the arms of these few intellectuals really twist past my old thigh? Let them rebel.

This long talk wasted much time; the surrounding murals have all been studied; I asked Professor Chen for permission—should we still look inside the coffin?