Chapter 99

In the blind man's mouth, the Xian King's Tomb was a very evil place. As he spoke, he took off his own double-element blind man's mirror. Shirley Yang and I looked at his face, and our hearts gave a sudden "geleng"—we saw his eye sockets deeply sunken, from inside to out, all dark red scars, like the withered veins of an old tree growing out of the eye sockets. It turned out the blind man's eyes had been gouged out by someone, and even part of his eyelids had been peeled off.

The blind man put on his blind man's mirror, let out a long sigh, and said to me and Shirley Yang: "After so many years, past events may be like passing clouds, but they remain vivid before my eyes. I still remember clearly that last time I went tomb-robbing—what is called 'touching the heart with shock'? That is touching the heart with shock."

I know that although the blind man usually speaks incoherently, using his mouth to cheat for food and drink, his account of going to rob the Xian King's Tomb years ago is probably mostly true, after all, these things are not known by just anyone. However, whether the Xian King's Tomb deep in the Insect Valley is as terrifying as the blind man says, and whether there are any questionable aspects, I have never heard of any feng shui treasure spot that could never be robbed.

But recalling some information Professor Sun told us, the Xian King acted mysteriously, worshipped evil gods, and knew strange arts—so he was no ordinary man. The coffin shop owner used human corpses to raise fish in hopes of longevity; this method was passed down from the Xian King thousands of years ago, showing how sinister and vicious the Xian King's deeds were over the years—beyond what ordinary people could imagine.

Shirley Yang wanted to learn more about the Xian King's Tomb from the side, so she briefly told the blind man about our discovery in the coffin shop of leaking vats used to raise fish with human corpses, and repeated Professor Sun's inference, suggesting it might be an ancient evil art left behind by the Xian King in Yunnan.

(Using a jar coffin to feed fish with corpses—this method is the most toxic, and it truly exists in Myanmar. Modern people mistakenly call it a kind of gu, but it is actually not the same, and this custom does not exist within China. The ancient Dian Kingdom during the Han Dynasty only had similar evil arts, but they were not chong or gu poison. I am citing its name here for plot necessity, and I have made significant changes to it. Because the ancient chong art itself is very mysterious, secretly passed down through generations, outsiders find it hard to know its true nature, so in the story I only give it an elementary explanation.)

After hearing this, the blind man let out a cold snort, twirling his goat beard, and said: "What is this Professor Sun? Professor, professor, the more he teaches, the thinner he gets—he must have turned all those scholars into skinny men, probably just another old rustic. What does he know? Not knowing is not a fault, but not knowing yet pretending to know—that is misleading the youth."

I asked him: "What do you mean by that? Is Professor Sun wrong?"

The blind man said: "According to what I know, the Xian King's evil art came from Tibet, originating earliest on today's Mount Gongming, and is the most ancient chong art. Chong art, gu poison, and jiangtou are the three great evil arts of southern Yunnan. Chong art has long been lost, while gu poison and jiangtou are still used in Yunnan's mountain areas, and in Southeast Asia—Thailand, Laos—but they have long since declined, leaving only minor sects and minor methods."

I asked the blind man: "So according to you, the coffin shop owner using iron chains to hang an iron vat, raising fish with corpses inside—is that a kind of chong art? What does he hope to achieve by this? Could it really prolong life? Now that the shopkeeper is dead, his origins seem vague—maybe he is a survivor of the ancient Dian Kingdom, having lived for thousands of years."

The blind man laughed: "Where in the world is there such a demon who has lived for thousands of years? I'm practically becoming your advisor now—never mind, I might as well tell you all plainly. Back then, I and six companions went into the deep mountains of Yunnan to rob tombs. For safety, we made inquiries everywhere, learning a bit from elders in some stockades. The strange vat you mentioned is indeed a kind of chong art: drowning a live person in the vat—this must be done with a living person; if they die before water enters, it's useless. The patterns on the vat are called 'soul-sealing talismans,' said to let a person's soul remain trapped in their flesh after death, unable to escape—truly vicious. Small fish in the water swim through holes in the vat, eating the rotting human flesh soaked in water; the dead person's vengeful spirit is then eaten by the fish, and soon they are gnawed down to nothing but a clean skeleton. Those fish that ate human flesh grow astonishingly fast—within twenty-odd days they reach three feet. Using such fish to make soup yields a flavor beyond compare—there is no tastier fish soup in the world..."

As I was eating rice and listening to the blind man, the more I heard, the more nauseated I felt, so I put down my chopsticks and stopped eating. I said to him: "This fish soup tastes so extraordinarily superb, you must have drunk it yourself—otherwise, how could you know it so well?"

The blind man twisted his mouth: "I don't have that blessing. Drink that immortal soup, and you won't live past three days. The fish raised in the vat are no longer fish—they are called chong—this chong takes the vengeful spirits of those who died wrongfully and turns them into poison, killing people invisibly. Those who drink the fish soup and are harmed show no signs of poisoning on their bodies; at death, their faces even retain a faint smile, as if savoring the delicious fish soup. The more people he kills, the stronger his evil art becomes—how strong it can ultimately become, no one knows. Even though I am well-read, I still have limits to my knowledge."

Shirley Yang also listened from the side, frowning: "So the legend of the coffin shop rests on this evil art—the black-hearted shopkeeper gained this murderous, sinister trick, using chong art to take lives—so the Xian King who invented this evil art was certainly no good sort."

The blind man said: "That coffin shop owner is just a country bumpkin. Although he knows this chong art, his methods are only superficial—how could he compare to the Xian King? So I advise you two to abandon the idea of going to Yunnan to rob tombs as soon as possible—I am a warning from past experience; you must not ignore this."

Shirley Yang, unwilling to believe the blind man's alarmist talk, continued pressing him: "Could you tell us about your experience going to Yunnan to find the Xian King's Tomb? If your story has value, I might consider letting Lao Hu give you a burial object."

Upon hearing this, the blind man immediately straightened his face and said: "I am not someone greedy for burial objects, but it's rare that you have such filial piety—I certainly won't turn you away from a thousand miles. Speaking of those past grievances—sigh, it truly was: worries seek no one, yet people seek worries themselves..."

Back then, the blind man had artisans in Suzhou repair the human skin map. After careful verification, he learned it recorded the location of the Xian King's Tomb, and he was overjoyed. Previously, he had robbed several tombs with nothing to show for it, but the Xian King had after all been a ruler of the ancient Dian Kingdom—though a small southern border state, his tomb should certainly contain burial objects.

So the blind man gathered several familiar mountain-moving laborers. This group of tomb robbers, when encountering a large tomb, always acted as a team. Their methods for robbing large tombs—whether touching gold mounds or moving mountains—were no more than these few. The cannonblast style: using large shovels and hoes, or explosives to break through the sealed earth and tomb walls, directly digging out the underground palace—this is the most clumsy method.

Otherwise, it's cutting the void: digging a tunnel from beneath the tomb chamber, which requires the tomb robbers to be precise; if the angle is slightly off, they cannot get in.

The blind man had long specialized in digging southern tombs. His group didn't understand feng shui secrets, so they could only look for places recorded in local gazetteers, or find ancient tombs with stone steles or remnants of sealed earth mounds. This time, having the human skin map as a clue, they discussed it and felt this job could be done—maybe it would be a huge fortune—so they decided to mobilize everyone and go dig the Xian King's Tomb.

According to the most experienced tomb robber in the group, the Xian King's Tomb would not be too large, after all, their national strength was limited; judging from the human skin map, it should be in a mountain valley, relying on natural terrain, with the tomb built in a cave. The ancient Dian Kingdom imitated Han customs: kings were buried in tombs, necessarily accompanied by bronze chariots and horses as ceremonial guards, a hundred military entertainment clay figurines, two outer and three inner coffins in the mysterious palace, with a heavenly gate above and a spirit road below, six-four as the target, hung with one hundred and eight pearls, and around it were placed six jade pieces and three tripods. A starved camel is bigger than a horse—this alone proves the Xian King's Tomb must contain many fine things.

Although the human skin map is old and some parts are blurred, the location of the Xian King's Tomb can still be recognized. A tributary of the Lancang River called the Snake River, due to its winding shape resembling a snake, got that name. The Snake River winds past the Great Snow Mountain, which locals call Aiteng, formally named Zhēlóng Mountain, with an elevation over three thousand three hundred meters. The Snake River twists and turns into the lofty mountains and steep ridges, forming a valley with low-lying terrain, because this valley is filled with year-round poisonous mist that never clears, and many insects breed there, so locals call it the Insect Valley.

The Insect Valley lies deep in the mountains, rarely visited by people. After passing the Great Snow Mountain, the ahead stretch has clear waters and beautiful scenery, often seeing large flocks of brightly colored butterflies. However, the middle stretch begins to frequently emit white miasma, year-round and undispersing—those who inhale it die immediately, and no one can enter. There is a legend that these white miasmas are the Xian King's chong mist set to guard his tomb, surrounding the royal tomb—unless a great mountain wind disperses the evil mist, no person or animal can enter—on the human skin map, this blank white circle represents those miasmas.

Further in, there is a huge waterfall—the water dragon mentioned in feng shui refers to the waterfall, and the entrance to the Xian King's Tomb's passage lies at the dragon's eye. The back of the human skin map has detailed records: this cave eye was chosen by the Xian King's great shaman, named Water Dragon Halo—formed by the misty water vapor swirling before the cave, creating a faint, hidden damp ring, like the halo around the sun or moon, hence called Dragon Halo, also Dragon Eye; faint and subtle, seeming real yet illusory—coarse look gives form, fine look gives none—this is where vital energy condenses and spiritual light appears, because it is the foremost of auspicious forces; buried here, vital energy does not leak, and water ants cannot invade.

The feng shui of the Xian King's Tomb has another dangerous aspect: it is forever impossible for people to rob it—no one can enter—and this confidence, I fear, is unmatched in the world.

As for what the situation there actually is, the blind man said he couldn't describe it, because he never entered. His group at that time was blinded by greed, knowing the Xian King's Tomb was extremely hard to rob, yet still decided to take a chance. They hired a local Bai ethnic guide, braved the snow mountains, entered the valley, and waited on the edge of the Insect Valley for over ten days until they finally encountered a time of overcast clouds rolling, heavy rain, and hail. The surrounding white evil mist was blown away by the mountain wind, and the blind man and his companions rejoiced—yet they had to wait for this opportunity.

To rush through this deadly zone before the wind and rain passed, they ran desperately. But just after going halfway, the wind and rain suddenly stopped, the overcast clouds were blown away by the wind, the wind ceased, and sunlight poured down—immediately, a thin white mist began to rise all around. They couldn't go forward, couldn't go back—at that moment, their formation broke, and they scattered in panic to flee for their lives. The miasma in the valley grows extremely fast—once inhaled, it immediately threatens one's life.

Relying on his youthful training in lightness skills for several years, the blind man held his breath, flung open his legs, and ran outward; he managed to make it back, but his eyes were destroyed by the poisonous mist—fortunately, the Bai guide waiting at the valley mouth found him unconscious on the ground, acted decisively, and gouged out both of the blind man's eyeballs before the poison could enter his bloodstream, allowing him to barely survive.

After hearing the blind man's account, I and Shirley Yang felt his group failed in the Insect Valley because they lacked necessary preparations—if they had proper precautions, breaking through this poisonous mist would not be difficult. Saying that once inside there is no return is simply an exaggeration.

Shirley Yang said: "Such thick miasma is indeed rare—it might be due to special geographical conditions causing a special plant to grow in the valley; the enclosed valley environment interacts with the air to produce some neutralizing effect. Wearing a gas mask or taking appropriate medicine would make one unaffected—it's not necessarily some wu chong evil art."

The blind man said: "No, do not underestimate the Xian King's Tomb in the Insect Valley. This is only the outskirts—inside, no living person has entered for many years—what the world inside the miasma is like, you can see for yourselves how the back of the human skin map describes it."

Shirley Yang unfolded the human skin map and we viewed it together. Only then did we see the back covered in text and illustrations. Around the king's tomb, four burial pits were set up, plus several burial mounds for close ministers—unexpectedly, this small southern border grassroots heavenly son's display was truly not small.

One passage records the Xian King's use of heavenly divination to describe his own tomb: "The king died, was interred in the Water Dragon Halo, the corpse ascended to immortality through dissolution, the Water Dragon Halo is formless—unless heaven collapses, it is especially difficult for outsiders to break."

I muttered to myself: "If the sky doesn't fall down, will no one ever enter the king's tomb? Heaven collapsing? Is it saying a meteor from heaven falls down? Or does it mean something else? Does it mean only at a certain specific time can one possibly enter the king's tomb?"

The blind man shook his head: "No, no—despite my great wisdom and intelligence, after so many years I still haven't figured out what this 'heaven collapsing' riddle refers to. I reckon that in life, the Xian King did not respect the king's way, worshipped evil gods, (tú, radical changed to two dots of water; possibly a typo—_-) harmed countless living beings, so his tomb will surely be robbed sooner or later. But maybe the timing isn't right yet, making success difficult. Perhaps the Xian King himself knew his tomb, though hidden, would eventually be targeted by tomb robbers, so he chose this deadly spot—not only is the valley extremely dangerous, but there may be something even more dangerous inside the tomb chamber, perhaps guardian beasts. Back then, I was young and full of energy, only aiming for this huge fortune, the doer is deluded—now looking back, I was truly possessed by a demon, only thinking of getting rich, and in the end suffered a great loss. So I offer this sincere advice: better not to rob the Xian King's Tomb."

How could we, with our minds already made up, this trip to Yunnan being a definite go; moreover, the details still need to be seen firsthand in the Snake River Insect Valley—just listening to the blind man move his upper lip against his lower lip and speak, it's really hard to convince people.

Shirley Yang bought the blind man's human skin map, then we packed our things and headed back to Beijing, planning to meet up with Pangzi, then go south together to Yunnan, and rob that tomb said to be godlike, built upon the Dragon Halo—the Xian King's Tomb.