Jiang Lian was arranged to share a prefabricated shelter with Kuang Meiying, Shen Gun, Wei Biao, and others, which by mountain household standards was considered mid-to-high-level accommodation.

Upon entering the room, he first saw Wei Biao lying on the bed with a pale face. Jiang Lian recalled what Meng Qianzi had said about the driver taking the car away, and it was Wei Biao who had shouted to get off the vehicle. Feeling a warmth in his heart, he was about to say something sentimental about how moved he was, when Wei Biao sneered: “Well, look who’s still alive—our little Master Lian. What a troublemaker.”

The warm feelings in Jiang Lian instantly vanished. He retorted, “Not as much trouble as you. I heard the mountain crevice was originally split open, but because of you, it became whole again.”

Kuang Meiying glared at him: “Wei Biao is already so injured, and you’re still mocking him!”

Her bias was obvious. Jiang Lian was so irritated his teeth itched. He wanted to emphasize that he was injured too, but realized it would only invite more unpleasantness, so he went to talk to Shen Gun instead.

Shen Gun had no time for him either. He was facing a tablet computer, tilting his chin, turning his head, and making faces. Jiang Lian then realized he was trying on glasses: using some app with various frames to choose from. By opening the camera, he could see how the frames looked on his face with just a tap.

Jiang Lian guessed this was another eyewear service provided by the Mountain Ghosts. He felt that Shen Gun’s position as a Three-Petal Lotus priest was quite profitable.

Health is the foundation of revolution. Although Kuang Meiying had already fallen ill, they had no clues about the box, and the situation looked grim; the bloody hole in his shoulder was real and wouldn’t heal in just a few days.

Jiang Lian patiently rested to recover from his wound.

Every morning, he would see the Mountain Ghost team heading into the mountains. Of their eight-member team, only four had been found; the other four were still missing—not something to be taken lightly. They usually spent the whole day outside, returning at dusk, sometimes led by Xian Qionghua, sometimes by Jing Rusi.

Jing Rusi was about the same age as Qiu Biying, of medium build, with a kind and proper appearance. Her face was always smiling, resembling a female Maitreya Buddha. When she first met Jiang Lian, she actively approached him and said many pleasant things, complimenting his appearance, then his courage, then his character. Jiang Lian was flattered, and even after Jing Rusi walked away, he was still basking in the glow of being recognized.

Then he suddenly remembered that Tao Tian had mentioned that this Fourth Great-Aunt had a nickname: “Smiling Tiger.” She typically praised people to their faces but criticized them behind their backs. Reconsidering her excessive compliments, he immediately felt they had a different flavor.

On the third day, Jiang Lian saw Meng Qianzi.

Actually, before this, he had learned from the team doctor that Meng Qianzi had undergone surgery because the leg muscle was severely contused and eventually required stitches. The doctor’s explanation was: whether she could fully recover would depend on her convalescence, but a scar would remain, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

This news had made Jiang Lian depressed for a while. He felt that Meng Qianzi was essentially a beauty-loving girl. Having an ugly scar on her beautiful, slender legs, even if she didn’t say anything, would surely make her feel bad inside.

Meng Qianzi shared a felt tent with the two aunts. Jiang Lian reluctantly went to visit her twice, but both times she had been sleeping. He did, however, meet Xian Qionghua, who told him to be patient. She explained that Meng Qianzi was not only physically exhausted after the surgery but had also used the “Mountain Wind Guide,” which itself was draining. Sleeping for three to five days was normal.

Jiang Lian was extremely embarrassed, repeatedly acknowledging this, and on the third day, he restrained himself from going, to avoid appearing like an impatient hothead in front of the elders. Unexpectedly, while Xin Ci was pushing Meng Qianzi out for some fresh air, she brought her right to the doorway.

It was evening, and the electricity was a bit unstable, making the light bulb inside flicker. Jiang Lian was eating when he suddenly felt a shadow at the door. He instinctively looked up to see Meng Qianzi smiling in a wheelchair, pushed in by Xin Ci.

She wasn’t wearing makeup. Without those vibrant colors, she looked elegant, light, and delicate. She was dressed warmly, wrapped in a blanket, which made her appear even thinner, almost unreal.

Jiang Lian sat holding his bowl, watching her, momentarily forgetting to greet her. Instead, it was Kuang Meiying who rushed up in a fluster to express her gratitude. Shen Gun, wearing his fashionable new glasses that had been rush-delivered, also hurriedly asked after her health. Even Wei Biao half-raised his head and made an effort to thank Meng Qianzi.

Everyone in the room was indeed indebted to her. With everyone talking at once, Jiang Lian was left out, unable to join the conversation.

Later, even when he got to speak, it was just polite small talk. He couldn’t express his deep feelings in front of so many people.

However, he did find an opportunity for some subtle intimacy.

When she was leaving, the wheel of her chair got caught on the doorframe. Xin Ci didn’t notice and continued pushing. Jiang Lian said, “Wait, it needs to be moved.”

As he spoke, he went over and squatted down, grabbing the metal tube at the bottom of the wheelchair and moving it slightly to the side. As he stood up, he suddenly saw one of Meng Qianzi’s hands sliding out from under the edge of the blanket.

Without showing any reaction, and using both his body and the blanket as cover, he reached out to wrap his hand around hers, his thumb gently stroking the inside of her wrist. He told Xin Ci: “The wheel’s caught, you can’t force it.”

Meng Qianzi didn’t look at him, but her fingertips trembled slightly as they curled into the warm hollow between the thenar and hypothenar eminences of his palm.

Xin Ci assured him: “It’s alright, I won’t force it. That would jostle Qianzi.”

So Jiang Lian leaned against the doorframe, watching as Xin Ci pushed the wheelchair away. His hanging hand clenched slightly, as if the smooth touch and warmth still lingered in his palm, unwilling to let go.

When he returned to the room, he was scolded by Kuang Meiying: “Look at you, being so unfriendly. Miss Meng saved our lives! When she came in, you just sat there, not even willing to put down your bowl. Is the food that good?”

Jiang Lian glanced at her sideways and replied slowly: “That’s right, it was that good. She interrupted my meal.”

Two days later, at meal time again, Tao Tian came by with two tablet computers.

Kuang Meiying had been focusing all her attention on Wei Biao these past few days, with no time to think about anything else. Seeing Tao Tian, she suddenly remembered this newly made friend and couldn’t help saying: “Why haven’t we seen you for several days? You didn’t even come to check on us.”

She pointed at Jiang Lian: “Jiang Lian here saved you, and you didn’t even come to see your savior?”

Tao Tian looked embarrassed and stammered: “These few days, I’ve been… busy.”

She handed the tablets to Shen Gun and Jiang Lian, saying that they contained investigation materials about the Three Rivers Source incident, and asked for their help in reviewing them and suggesting any necessary additions.

Jiang Lian wanted to ask her if the Mountain Ghost team’s mountain search had made any progress, but she hurried away as if avoiding something, causing Kuang Meiying to mutter: “This Tao Tian was so friendly with us on the road, but now that we’re here, she’s become distant.”

Jiang Lian didn’t have time to respond; he opened the interface first.

The investigation materials were quite detailed, with an interactive slide format where many annotated areas could be clicked to view detailed text and images. The frontispiece was a route map marked with longitude and latitude, clearly indicating the locations of the car accident, the stone burial site, the cave, the mountain crevice, and finally the valley. The winding route penetrated dozens of kilometers into the mountains.

Jiang Lian first clicked on the mountain crevice. There were many on-site photos, including one taken from a high vantage point showing the entire crevice resembling a black worm, so deep that the bottom was not visible, giving viewers a visceral discomfort.

Kuang Meiying also came over to look. As they scrolled through the images page by page, both fell silent.

Wei Biao had truly suffered terribly on this journey.

After a while, Kuang Meiying couldn’t bear to look anymore and walked away, saying: “What’s happened has happened. What’s the point of making these investigation materials?”

Shen Gun didn’t even look up: “What kind of talk is that? We need to summarize experiences and lessons. By your logic, history books would be meaningless—what happened has happened, but we still need to provide a reference for later generations…”

As he said this, he suddenly sucked in a cold breath, zooming in on a photograph again and again.

Jiang Lian was curious: after experiencing all these dangers firsthand, what could be so shocking as to cause such a reaction?

He leaned over to look.

It was several lines of text scratched hard into the cave floor with stones, somewhat disjointed:

*I know you*

*Heavenly Ladder, you are there*

*You must be careful*

*You will die there*

Fortunately, there was a note next to it explaining that when Meng Qianzi confronted the mantis-person, the creature deliberately wrote these words to lure her closer, intending to ambush her when she lowered her guard, but Meng Qianzi saw through the ruse.

Jiang Lian felt these lines were ominous and couldn’t help wanting to talk about something to dispel this feeling: “They like to play this ‘I know you’ trick. Last time, that person inside Yanluo also said they knew you.”

Shen Gun seemed not to hear, his brows knitted as he murmured: “Heavenly Ladder… Kunlun Mountains… Kunlun… Heavenly Ladder…”

What Heavenly Ladder? Jiang Lian had only heard of a song called “Heavenly Road,” which seemed to praise the construction of railways on the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau.

Just as he was about to ask, Shen Gun suddenly tossed the tablet aside and ran out like a gust of wind. Jiang Lian couldn’t be bothered to chase after him; he’d be back soon enough.

Sure enough, a quarter of an hour later, Shen Gun returned excitedly, carrying a stack of books.

Jiang Lian thought they might be valuable books, but when he saw the topmost one titled “Peng Zu: Ancestor of Longevity Cultivation,” he immediately realized these were the books Tao Tian had prepared for Shen Gun when they left Xining. After the car accident, the books had been scattered in the vehicle, and presumably, the mountain people had collected them while cleaning up the scene.

Jiang Lian asked: “What, did Peng Zu climb the Heavenly Ladder too… for exercise?”

Shen Gun found him annoying: “Little Lian Lian, I’m researching something here. Don’t interrupt.”

Jiang Lian was irritated but decided to ignore him.

The electricity supply was unstable here, let alone internet access. There wasn’t much entertainment, and the room was mostly occupied by injured people, so everyone went to bed early. Before sleeping, Jiang Lian still saw the pear-shaped light bulb swaying on the ceiling, while Shen Gun sat on a small stool near the light, slowly turning one page after another.

In the middle of the night, Jiang Lian woke up for some reason.

Opening his eyes, he found the light still glaring, with snoring sounds all around. Jiang Lian thought Shen Gun had forgotten to turn off the light before sleeping. Frowning, he was about to get up to do it himself when he suddenly noticed that Shen Gun’s bedding was empty.

Empty—the person wasn’t there, and neither was his quilt.

Strange, had he moved to another room? Jiang Lian felt that everyone in this room got along fine, not enough to cause any “dormitory” conflicts. Looking again, he saw Shen Gun’s pillow was still there, along with his items.

The possibility of moving rooms seemed low. Jiang Lian pondered for a moment, then put on his clothes and got out of bed.

Opening the door, he felt the biting north wind. The night wind on the plateau was truly formidable; one sweep and his head was instantly chilled. Jiang Lian pulled up the snow hood of his down jacket, shrinking his neck as he went to ask the night watchman.

He got information. The watchman pointed upward, and following that direction, aided by the weak camp lights, Jiang Lian finally saw Shen Gun. His bulky silhouette looked like a steamed bun sitting on the mountain ridge.

Jiang Lian walked over, and upon getting closer, found it both amusing and pitiful, saying: “So you do know how to fear the cold.”

It turned out that Shen Gun was wrapped in his quilt, staring blankly into space.

What was he looking at? Stars? Jiang Lian sat down beside him and followed his gaze.

There were indeed stars in the sky, but the scale and brightness could hardly be called stunning. Jiang Lian looked for a while and thought he might have been mistaken—Shen Gun seemed to be looking at the mountains.

What was so interesting about mountains?

Jiang Lian also looked, and as he did, a very subtle feeling arose in his heart.

This was the Kunlun Mountain range.

The north wind carried the mountain’s cold breath, crisp and indifferent. In the darkness, one couldn’t see the mountains’ detailed textures, only one towering peak after another, endless horizontally, boundless vertically, forming an unbroken supple curve. That undulation concealed sinew and strength, while a majestic aura rose from the valleys.

Countless Chinese creation myths, historical legends, and immortal chronicles were intricately connected to the Kunlun Mountains. It was the ancestor of all mountains, the source of all waters, perhaps also the origin of human culture—China’s most profound historical text. It was also a silent observer, watching this land evolve from deathly stillness to fervent activity, from barrenness to prosperity, from a sparse few people to a great multitude.

Shen Gun suddenly asked: “Little Lian Lian, have you heard of ‘Severing Heaven from Earth’?”

Jiang Lian shook his head, though he instinctively felt these words were awkward. Why call it “Severing Heaven from Earth”? “Severing Earth from Heaven” would sound more natural.

Shen Gun said, “The literal meaning of ‘Severing Heaven from Earth’ is to cut off communication between heaven and earth. The Classic of Mountains and Seas, Discourses of the States, and Book of Documents all record this event. The one who carried it out was Emperor Zhuanxu, grandson of the Yellow Emperor—and notably, the Yellow Emperor didn’t pass his position to his son but directly to his grandson.”

Hearing the words “Yellow Emperor,” Jiang Lian’s heart skipped a beat.

Shen Gun didn’t look at him, still gazing at the distant mountains: “Legend says that in ancient times, heaven and earth were connected. The passage connecting heaven and earth was called the ‘Heavenly Ladder.’ There’s also a saying that Chi You was a fierce deity who descended via the Heavenly Ladder and caused havoc among humans. So after the Yellow Emperor defeated him, he resolved to destroy the Heavenly Ladder, and Zhuanxu carried out this task. The Book of Documents records: ‘To prevent disturbance between humans and spirits, allowing each to maintain their proper order—this is called Severing Heaven from Earth.'”

Jiang Lian was a bit confused: “That mantis-person also wrote the words ‘Heavenly Ladder’…”

Shen Gun interrupted him: “Don’t rush.”

“In The Classic of Mountains and Seas, the Heavenly Ladder has two forms. One is a tree, but not an ordinary tree—it’s called ‘Jianmu,’ said to grow in the wilderness of Duguang, which is today’s Sichuan Basin area. The other is a mountain. Don’t you find it interesting? Both are rooted in the earth and grow upward without any external force—natural objects. And we previously discussed how the Divine Clan follows the mystical path, skilled at utilizing natural forces, seeking everything from the myriad natural phenomena.”

He stretched out his hand, pointing to the distant peaks: “Compared to trees, mountains are more resilient and enduring. Look at these mountains, how tall they are, how close to the sky—don’t they resemble naturally occurring transmission towers? We just don’t understand their mysteries or how to use them; we only see them as rocks and scenery. We’re busy building this and that, but the world itself contains both riddles and answers.”

Jiang Lian’s heart stirred: “Are you saying that these Kunlun Mountains are the… Heavenly Ladder that connects to the sky?”

Shen Gun shrank his hand back into the quilt, feeling cold: “The long-standing Chinese belief that high mountains are where immortals come from—that immortals all come down from mountains—may be because in ancient times, the Divine Clan discovered that certain mountains could connect with the outer world.”

“Zhuanxu severed heaven from earth, cut down Jianmu, broke the celestial pillar Mount Buzhou, and it’s said that finally only the Kunlun Mountains remained as a passage, which he sealed.”

“I just went to ask Miss Tao for those reference materials, and on the way, I met the Xian family girl. I asked her if there was any mention of the Heavenly Ladder within the Mountain Ghosts.”

He explained to Jiang Lian: “Since the mantis-person wrote those words to lure Miss Meng closer, it must have written something that Miss Meng knew about or cared about.”

Jiang Lian nodded: this made sense. If it had written something irrelevant, Qianzi wouldn’t have been interested.

“The Xian girl was quite surprised and asked how I knew about the Heavenly Ladder. She said ordinary mountain dwellers didn’t know about this. Then she told me that Miss Meng’s Beast-Subduing Golden Bells have a saying called ‘Nine Uses of the Golden Bells,’ meaning the bells have nine functions. One of them is called ‘Opening the Heavenly Ladder,’ but exactly how to use it and what the Heavenly Ladder refers to, they don’t know—it’s been lost.”

Saying this, he let out a long sigh, his gaze extending to more and more distant peaks submerged in the night: “Mountain Ghosts, Mountain Ghosts, how could it be as simple as just driving away mountain beasts? I’m thinking, they share the pulse and breath of the mountains, perhaps they are the key-bearers who can open the Heavenly Ladder, which also aligns with their position of following Chi You. The Yellow Emperor’s side wanted to sever heaven from earth, so naturally, they would do the opposite.”

Jiang Lian was silent for a good while before speaking: “If the Heavenly Ladder opens, what’s on the other side?”

Shen Gun answered: “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Do you think… could it be an entrance, an entrance to the Great Wilderness?”

“When we study geography, we usually combine astronomy and geography. Perhaps they’re the same. The Classic of Mountains, Classic of Seas, and Classic of Great Wilderness—mountains and seas correspond to geography, while the Great Wilderness corresponds to astronomy.”

This theory was truly interesting. Jiang Lian smiled, then recalled what Shen Gun had just said.

—These mountains, how tall they are, how close to the sky—don’t they resemble naturally occurring transmission towers?

Yes, they rise from the ground, growing toward the sky. Humans devise all sorts of ways to build signal towers and transmission towers, but perhaps this world comes with all functions built in. Born in the vast universe, it naturally has connections to the outside world; they just need to be recognized and activated.

Jiang Lian murmured: “Severing Heaven from Earth means completely cutting off the connection between here and out there?”

Shen Gun nodded: “The ancient concept of space called the six directions—up, down, and the four cardinal directions—the ‘Six Unions.’ This world is a three-dimensional world within the Six Unions. All that is absurd, bizarre, and beyond imagination exists outside the Six Unions. Zhuangzi says that what exists beyond the Six Unions is not discussed. I truly want to know what lies beyond the Six Unions, in the vast Great Wilderness.”

By the end, there was a sense of yearning in his expression.

Jiang Lian smiled: “Unfortunately, Severing Heaven from Earth cut it off completely.”

Shen Gun sighed: “Yes, Severing Heaven from Earth, divine succession skipping generations, the phoenix bathing in fire, dragon bones burning the box.”

Jiang Lian’s whole body trembled, and he blurted out: “What did you say?”

Shen Gun gave him a strange look: “I didn’t say anything special, I said Severing Heaven from Earth.”

Jiang Lian’s heart began to pound: “No, you said three more phrases after that.”

Shen Gun looked confused: “I… said three more phrases? Which three?”