The Northwest is vast; one day’s travel isn’t enough to reach the destination.

At noon, the two vehicles pulled off the highway, stopping to rest and have lunch.

The backup car had heating equipment, which somehow produced steaming hot meals in tin boxes, much better than dry rations or instant noodles. Jiang Lian finished his meal comfortably under the shelter of the rear canopy, then picked up his phone to check.

Still no signal. During the journey, sometimes there was reception, sometimes not. Sometimes just as a signal appeared, the car would dash out of range, causing frustration with no solution.

Kuang Meiying came to find Jiang Lian.

Throughout the journey, the altitude had been increasing, and naturally, the temperature had been dropping. While everyone else could adapt, only Kuang Meiying, with her frail constitution, had already put on a thin padded jacket. This made Jiang Lian increasingly feel that bringing her along to help wasn’t a wise decision.

These past couple of days, Kuang Meiying had been eating, playing, and generally appearing quite calm. But now that they were officially on the road, she finally showed signs of nervousness.

She rolled up her sleeve, showing her arm to Jiang Lian: “Once we get there, will I have to cut myself with a knife?”

“How long of a cut would be appropriate?”

“Is just one cut enough? Or do I need to make a new cut for each section of the journey? And how far is each section? One kilometer or two?”

It was evident she had been thinking quite a lot.

Unfortunately, Jiang Lian couldn’t answer any of it: people easily talk big, but only upon reaching the site do they realize how absurd their plans were. Not to mention, Kunlun Mountain wasn’t like Mount Hua or Mount Tai, where you could climb to the summit to watch the sunrise and take photos—it had serious altitude, snow lines, and snowy peaks. Some mountain tops would intimidate even professional mountaineers; how could someone like Kuang Meiying manage?

He responded vaguely: “Just relax, we’ll figure it out when we get there.”

After dismissing Kuang Meiying, Jiang Lian went to find Shen Gun.

Shen Gun hadn’t left the car, curled up in the passenger seat, engrossed in reading a book titled “Peng Zu: Forefather of Health Preservation.”

Jiang Lian leaned against the car door, internally irritated: isn’t this deceptive? It was self-reproduction, yet they insisted on calling it health preservation.

The sunlight was intense. He used his hand as a visor to shield his forehead, his eyes barely open: “Kunlun Mountain is too vast. I think our approach won’t work; we can’t wander. We need a clear clue.”

Shen Gun was so absorbed in his reading that the words went in one ear and out the other, responding with a casual murmur.

“Have you had any more dreams?”

“No.”

He still hadn’t dreamed. Before, no one hoped for his dreams, and they came like diarrhea. Now, with daily anticipation, his dreams had become constipated.

Jiang Lian felt restless, and seeing Shen Gun’s attitude made him somewhat annoyed: “Is it that interesting? Isn’t this all just fabricated by later generations?”

He picked up a book at random, which was about ancient immortals. Peng Zu had a dedicated chapter, and Tao Tian had thoughtfully placed a sticky note on the Peng Zu section.

So Jiang Lian immediately found the right chapter.

Scanning through it quickly, his gaze was soon caught by one sentence: “Peng Zu had forty-nine wives?”

Evidently, though this old man had achievements in longevity, in matters of love, he was far from faithful.

Shen Gun knew about Peng Zu’s forty-nine wives. It was recorded in both the Jin Dynasty’s “Biographies of Immortals” and the Song Dynasty’s “Extensive Records of the Taiping Era,” stating that Peng Zu “lost forty-nine wives and fifty-four sons,” probably to indirectly highlight Peng Zu’s longevity.

He looked up at Jiang Lian: “Little Lian Lian, look at your focus. I’m reading this book to search for potential clues, while you only notice how many wives he had.”

Jiang Lian defended himself: “I’m looking for clues too. Having so many wives and so many sons, all of whom died before him, indirectly proves he was self-reproducing. It also shows that the gap between god and humans is enormous. Even his sons didn’t inherit his abilities at all.”

Shen Gun felt a spark of inspiration, a faint light flashing in his mind, but it was too dim to grasp.

However, Jiang Lian suddenly thought of something: “His sons died before him, and there must have been grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Peng Zu certainly branched out well, forty-nine wives, that’s forty-nine households—look at those palace intrigue dramas, just three households can fight for eighty episodes, let alone forty-nine households…”

He looked curiously at Shen Gun: “With forty-nine households, if they had propagated until today, that would be a massive clan, no smaller than the Mountain Ghosts or Water Ghosts. How is it that only you remain as a descendant?”

Shen Gun blurted out, “You can’t generalize from a single case. I’m an exception, an abandoned one. I was left at the entrance of a small village.”

The horn sounded; it was time to get back on the road. Jiang Lian straightened up, closed the passenger door, and muttered: “They didn’t abandon others, just you. Are you some kind of anomaly?”

Shen Gun sat motionless, his bewildered face reflected in the tea-colored window.

In the afternoon, the altitude continued to climb, and the temperature kept dropping. Everyone was struggling, adding layers and putting on hats in the car. By early evening, there was no road in the true sense; the vehicles moved only by satellite positioning and faint wheel tracks on the ground.

Even the most beautiful scenery outside would become tiresome, especially as the sky darkened and there was hardly any scenery to see. Jiang Lian dozed off, slumped in his seat. In his drowsy state, he suddenly felt the car slowing down, and then with a jolt, it stopped.

Jiang Lian opened his eyes and instinctively asked: “Are we there?”

Tao Tian, who was sitting in the front seat with Kuang Meiying, turned back: “No, but Fourth Aunt said you and Mr. Shen might be interested in this place, so she asked us to stop when we reached it.”

Interested?

Why would he be interested in some random spot in the wilderness?

Jiang Lian looked ahead.

He could vaguely see several dilapidated tents being buffeted by the wind, looking as if they might fly away at any moment. But there were no lights, no cookfires, clearly uninhabited. One tent had its back flap torn, flapping in the wind like an eerie flag.

Shen Gun reacted first: “Could this be where that Ding Panling…”

Tao Tian quickly nodded: “Yes, that’s what I was told, that it’s the place where someone called Ding Panling died.”

They had to see it, then. Shen Gun and Jiang Lian followed Tao Tian out of the car and walked toward the tents. The two drivers, a bit tired from driving, were smoking outside the car. Only Kuang Meiying, hearing it was a place where someone had died, felt uneasy, and also, finding it cold outside, decided to stay curled up in her seat. Wei Biao naturally stayed to keep her company.

…

After walking a short distance, the tents were right in front of them.

Jiang Lian knew almost everything about the Water Ghost’s experiences.

In the mid-1990s, the Water Ghosts first explored the Drifting Cave. That time, the losses were catastrophic, with over a hundred people dying. Most of those who didn’t die eventually fell ill and perished over the next twenty-plus years—the only known survivor today was probably Zong Hang’s girlfriend, Yi Sa.

A little over a year ago, the Water Ghosts made a second exploration of the Drifting Cave. Even with equipment like flamethrowers, the losses were still significant, especially losing their leader, Ding Panling.

His successor, Ding Yudie, had been concerned about Ding Panling’s fate. He continuously sent Water Ghosts, under the guise of geological surveys, to search the Three Rivers Source area without interruption. These tents were the encampment of those Water Ghosts.

Then, overnight, everyone in the camp disappeared, leaving only one corpse—that of Ding Panling, who had been missing for over a year.

He had stabbed himself through the throat with a knife and left behind three and a half characters:

Find the Water Ghost Nation.

Before entering the tent, Jiang Lian took a deep breath and turned on his flashlight. Tao Tian, like a competent guide, led the way and provided introductions.

Jiang Lian saw where Ding Panling’s body had lain. The body had been removed, of course, but the shape had been marked with white powder and wooden sticks, still faintly visible.

He also saw a small patch of ground that didn’t look special at first glance, but upon closer inspection, one could see that the soil there had a spiral pattern, as if it had once rotated closed.

Jiang Lian and Shen Gun exchanged a glance, both understanding: supposedly, the Drifting Cave needed to breathe, and at night, openings would appear on the ground, called “Earth opens door, wind rushes toward the stars.” But after dawn, it would close, and when closing, the ground surface would show such spiral patterns—these patterns were the only clue the Water Ghosts had in tracking the Drifting Cave.

Tao Tian’s introduction confirmed this: “Before Ding Panling died, there was a Tibetan man nearby named Danzeng who had come to deliver lamb meat to his friends at the camp and had spoken a few words with Ding Panling. According to his recollection, when he saw Ding Panling, he was covering a spot on the ground with a cardboard box, covering exactly this spot…”

Before she could finish, the satellite phone at her waist suddenly rang. Tao Tian froze, said “excuse me” to the two of them, and hurriedly left the tent to answer the call.

Did Tao Tian have a satellite phone?

Jiang Lian pulled out his phone to check, and the signal was completely gone—so clean he felt like reaching out to scrape for it. He deeply regretted not thinking ahead and bringing a satellite phone.

Since Tao Tian had one, could he borrow it, or even buy it from her? That would make it easier to contact Meng Qianzi.

As he thought about this, he unconsciously took a couple of steps toward the edge of the tent, just in time to hear Tao Tian’s raised, anxious voice, almost distorted with tension: “How is that possible? How could this happen? What… what should we do?”

Although he couldn’t hear the specific content, judging from Tao Tian’s tone and voice, he instinctively knew something bad had happened.

After a while, Tao Tian came back in.

Though she tried to appear calm, a girl of her age, if she hadn’t truly experienced certain things, couldn’t maintain composure. Jiang Lian observed that her hand holding the satellite phone was trembling slightly, and she was unconsciously licking her lips more frequently.

Jiang Lian didn’t bother with tact and got straight to the point: “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

Caught off guard, Tao Tian gave a confused “Ah,” hesitating to speak.

Jiang Lian gave Shen Gun a meaningful look.

Shen Gun caught on immediately, cleared his throat, and asked her: “What happened? Do I need to tell Miss Meng about it?”

The status of being a Three-Layered Lotus Petal was indeed effective. Tao Tian spoke incoherently: “No, no, Fourth Aunt should go and tell her…”

She steadied herself, though her voice still trembled: “Fourth Aunt and the others already went into the mountains. Over two hundred people, divided into more than twenty small teams, are searching different sections. They leave early and return late. Usually, they communicate with walkie-talkies and satellite phones. Every night, even if people don’t return, they must make a call to report the day’s progress and the areas they’ve searched…”

“One team, about eight people, lost contact two days ago. Fourth Aunt sent another team to find them…”

Shen Gun tensed up: “They lost contact, too?”

Jiang Lian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and said to him quietly: “Can’t you hope for something good?”

Tao Tian shook her head: “They said that from morning until now, they’ve already found… three bodies. Fourth Aunt is nearly going crazy. She told people to rush over there. We don’t know about the others yet, everyone is discussing it, still… inquiring.”

Jiang Lian remained silent.

From Liu Sheng’s incident, it was clear that the Mountain Ghosts valued human life. Meng Qianzi had led a team, lost one Liu Sheng, and already felt very guilty. For Fourth Aunt this time, at minimum three lives were lost, and who knew if the number would continue to rise—anyone would go crazy in this situation.

Shen Gun swallowed: “Could it be an avalanche, a slip, or a fall?”

Tao Tian came back to her senses: “I don’t think so. There haven’t been reports of avalanches these past few days. If it were natural casualties, how could an entire team lose contact? Something major must have happened for Fourth Aunt to rush over there.”

Whatever happened, standing here guessing was certainly meaningless. Jiang Lian pondered briefly: “Let’s get on the road quickly. We’ll know the specific situation when we get there, maybe we can even help.”

Tao Tian nodded hastily, almost running, being the first to leave the tent.

Jiang Lian and Shen Gun followed immediately. Days are long in the Tibetan area, but darkness falls quickly. Just in the short time they had spent examining the tent, it had become completely dark outside. In the distance, they could see two vehicles with their lights on. Those faint lights, compressed by the surrounding darkness, appeared weak and oppressive.

After walking a few steps, Jiang Lian suddenly looked back.

Nothing unusual—the mountain line was calm, the wilderness desolate. Those few tattered tents rustled in the night and the wind.

Shen Gun approached and asked: “What’s wrong?”

Jiang Lian smiled: “Nothing.”

After a pause, he added: “Just felt a bit creepy down my spine.”

Shen Gun made an acknowledging sound and also looked back. After walking silently for a couple of steps, he suddenly said: “Do you know, I have a friend, Little Tangzi, the one who holds the Lu Bell in the Sheng family. She once, for some reason, wandered alone for more than four years.”

So what? Why suddenly mention her? Did it have anything to do with the current situation?

“She often shared experiences with me. There’s one thing she said that left a particularly deep impression: if you’re on the road and suddenly feel something’s wrong, never doubt yourself. There must be something wrong.”

Jiang Lian didn’t respond, just looked back again.

After getting back into the car, they started moving again.

The atmosphere in the car was much more somber than before. Kuang Meiying sensed it but didn’t understand why, just curiously looking from one person to another.

The night was dim, and the headlights could only carve out a narrow path of brightness ahead. Watching those few tents gradually recede in view, Jiang Lian let out a light sigh, unconsciously touching his spine, feeling that he might be overthinking.

Just at that moment, the driver suddenly shouted “What the fuck!” Immediately after, the car jolted violently, the front swerving to the side. After charging off-course for a bit, one of the wheels must have run over something sharp, suddenly bursting. The car tilted and slowly came to a stop.

The car behind them must have seen something and made an emergency turn, then braked not far away.

By this point, Kuang Meiying was ashen-faced. She sat in death-like silence, trembling as she stared at the beam of headlights frozen in the night outside, and stammered: “Did we, did we run over someone?”

With such a violent jolt, they had run over something, and not a small object.

The driver slammed his fist on the dashboard, cursing something under his breath. Tao Tian reacted, getting up on her knees on the seat, turning to look back.

In the faint light from the two cars, she saw that indeed, not far behind the car, someone was lying limply on the ground. The car had run right over this person, and the vehicle behind, seeing this, had made an emergency turn to avoid a second run-over.

The driver cursed again, not clear whether he was cursing himself or the person. Then he reached to open the car door. In that flash of a moment, Jiang Lian blurted out: “Wait, don’t get out yet.”

He then instructed the driver: “Do you have a radio? Tell the driver of the other car not to get out either.”

The words came too late. The driver of the other car had already gotten out with a searchlight. He was a bearded man, large and robust. Probably because he hadn’t run over the person himself, he felt no pressure, and after briefly shining the light, he shouted angrily at their car: “Why haven’t you come out yet! Are you stunned? Don’t you know you hit someone?”

Before he finished speaking, his body suddenly stiffened.

Kuang Meiying trembled like sifting chaff, making hoarse sounds in her throat. She was scared speechless.

She saw something sharp penetrate the back of the driver’s head, emerging from below one of his eyes.