The Coiled Head Army’s leader believed that since none of the physicians they brought in could help, this “illness” couldn’t be cured in the short term.
Rather than letting these soldiers continue to deteriorate and go mad before rushing into the depths en masse, it would be better to make use of them while they still had their faculties.
Yan Tuo guessed partially but wasn’t certain: “Make use of them? You mean, stop isolating them and send them in directly?”
Nie Jiuluo had the same thought: “While these mild cases were still controllable, convert them into advance scout units, let them enter to search for clues, and report back about what’s inside?”
Yu Rong finally understood, letting out an “Oh!” before nodding: “Clever. Ruthless, but I’d have done the same in their position.”
Xing Shen paused briefly before continuing: “That was part of the consideration. This ‘boundary zone’ later became known as the Black and White Rapids, but there was an even more important purpose in doing this.”
His voice trembled slightly as he continued: “In ancient armies, soldiers shared deep brotherly bonds. They’d entered these mountains together—though on imperial orders, living together day and night had forged deep emotional connections. No one could bear to see their friends and brothers become monsters and vanish without a trace.”
“So this group sent inside had an extremely important mission. Originally, they were just searching Green Soil for Earth Xiao, helping the emperor find methods of immortality. Now they had an additional task: to use every possible means to discover why their companions went mad and to bring back those who had vanished into the dark depths.”
Initially, Nie Jiuluo had been listening to Xing Shen’s narrative as merely an ancient legend, but at this point, she found herself moved. The name “Coiled Head Army,” which she’d previously thought sounded crude and foolish, now carried deeper meaning. She even felt a rising sense of respect.
She glanced at Yan Tuo.
Who likes to be abandoned and ignored? Every person in distress hopes for rescue.
The Coiled Head Army’s leader’s refusal to abandon their transformed and vanished soldiers was admirable—truly befitting the empire’s most elite military force of the time.
Xing Shen continued: “So, essentially, they established a Coiled Head Army branch within the Black and White Rapids. They had to race against time to find a way to save their companions, which also meant finding a way to save themselves. But as you understand, these people were also infected, with limited time to operate. To ensure this system could function sustainably, new blood had to be brought in, and the main force for this came from the Bian family.”
Yu Rong was suddenly caught off guard by this mention, blurting out: “Why? The Black and White Rapids were so terrifying, turning people into Xiao ghosts—why force people to go in as replacements?”
Nie Jiuluo pondered: “They might not have been forced. Ancient values were very different from today’s. Concepts like loyalty to one’s lord and dying for righteousness—they might have been called upon to enter, or volunteered as suicide squads.”
Xing Shen tacitly agreed with this interpretation: “The reason the Bian family was the main force was for taming purposes. Even as these Coiled Head Army soldiers transformed into beasts, they couldn’t become wild animals. They needed to still follow military orders, charge into battle, be summoned, and be commanded. Surprisingly, the Bian family tamed not only others but also themselves.”
Yu Rong gazed into the dark depths of the cave without speaking.
From here, another hour or two’s walk would bring them to the Golden Human Gates. Past the gates began the official entry into Green Soil, with the Black and White Rapids in Green Soil’s heart.
The Bian family—her ancestors—entering the Black and White Rapids was both desolate and heroic.
She cleared her throat and pointed at the stone chimes before them: “So these…”
Xing Shen gestured downward, indicating she should let him continue.
“This process continued for quite some time, with human statues being continuously fired. Initially, they were just used as boundary markers, warning people not to cross. Later, they were meant to show those inside the martial spirit of the Great Qin warriors, reminding them of their identity regardless of their state. Eventually, it became a Coiled Head Army tradition with ceremonial significance. When traversing Green Soil, they would specially create new human statues to enshrine inside—generation after generation, year after year. You can imagine how massive this boundary of human statues became.”
Yan Tuo suddenly remembered something: “I’d heard about the Coiled Head Army’s history before—that after entering the mountains for over two years, they finally found their way and captured the first Earth Xiao.”
Xing Shen smiled bitterly: “That’s correct, just abbreviated. In our Bashan hunting, we have different roles—some sit at ‘crossroads’ to make the kill, others ‘drive the mountain,’ beating gongs and drums, wielding spears and clubs to flush out the beasts. This first Earth Xiao was driven out by the Coiled Head Army inside.”
Nie Jiuluo said softly: “So those who entered the Black and White Rapids contributed greatly.”
Unexpectedly, this casual remark excited Xing Shen: “Exactly! But…”
He forcefully stopped himself, and after collecting himself, continued chronologically: “As you know, after finding the Earth Xiao, everything changed outside—the Chu-Han contention began, and the Great Qin collapsed suddenly.”
“However, even a lean camel is larger than a horse—the Coiled Head Army held on for some time. During this period, there was progress.”
He pointed to the stone chimes before him: “Like these Coiled Head Qing, and the Coiled Head Flags. Playing the Coiled Head Qing was meant to summon soldiers from inside—what we call ‘borrowing yin soldiers.’ The Coiled Head Flags are self-explanatory, and used for signaling commands. The Coiled Head Qing had a musical score, and the flag signals were carved on a stone tablet. We had one copy, and inside had another, hidden on the musician statues.”
“They reportedly tested it once, and it worked. On this side were humans, and from that side emerged Xiao ghosts. Though they could only linger at the edges of the Black and White Rapids, they understood the flag signals, could charge into battle, knew when to advance and retreat—humans and ghosts united under the Coiled Head banner.”
So there was a musical score—meaning they wouldn’t need to trek inside to retrieve it?
Yu Rong asked curiously: “Where’s our score?”
Yu Rong had a strange obsession with the “score.” Xing Shen sighed: “Keep listening, and you’ll understand.”
“As mentioned earlier, the Great Qin collapsed and everything changed outside, fundamentally shaking military morale—armies rely on state funding, and once all supplies were cut off, the consequences were predictable. All sorts of conflicts emerged.”
“Some remained loyal to their former master, wanting to persist, while others felt they’d already endured over two years in this forsaken place, had done more than enough, and that immortality was just an illusory goal. They thought it better to abandon everything early and hide their identities rather than face retribution from the new emperor. In short, conflicts escalated until finally, a military rebellion erupted.”
He paused for several seconds, seemingly allowing time for absorption. Yu Rong couldn’t contain herself: “Then what? What happened next?”
Xing Shen laughed: “Then, those who advocated abandonment won.”
His emotions flared again: “Surprising, isn’t it? Those unwilling to abandon their companions, wanting to continue, were all defeated in this slaughter. Yu Rong, you keep asking about our musical score. Our score and the stone tablet with the flag signals were destroyed in this rebellion, and the Coiled Head Flags were burned. Those who betrayed and cruelly abandoned their companions won instead. They sealed the Golden Human Gates, took the captured Earth Xiao, changed their identities, and settled down in the outer villages to live quiet lives.”
“Isn’t it ironic? Did you—did we—think our ancestors had such glorious origins? In truth, we’re all descendants of traitors, carrying this guilty debt!”
Neither Yu Rong nor Nie Jiuluo spoke. Yu Rong was still processing, while Nie Jiuluo thought this view too extreme: How had she suddenly become a descendant of traitors? Even accepting the concept of children paying for their parents’ debts would be one thing, but the Qin Dynasty was over two thousand years ago—how could such an ancient debt be counted against her?
Yan Tuo said: “Xing Shen, aren’t you taking this too personally? These events happened so long ago.”
Xing Shen fell silent, pausing before continuing.
Because they had Earth Xiao and some remaining wealth, life wasn’t so urgent, so they lived peacefully for a long time, keeping the Golden Human Gates closed.
But in an agricultural society, years of famine came frequently, and Earth Xiao exposed to light couldn’t survive long. Finally, one day, when life became unsustainable, someone remembered this golden bowl left by their ancestors.
—They could try their luck in Green Soil again, and see if they could catch one or two more. Even if they went years without success, one capture could feed them for decades.
So the Golden Human Gates were reopened, and the children and grandchildren of the former Coiled Head Army once again set foot on Green Soil’s territory.
…
Xing Shen said: “Green Soil had been silent for decades. Along the way, they could still see swords and bones left from that military rebellion. Approaching the edge of the Black and White Rapids, they found the old message board with two arrows stuck in it.”
The message board was similar to an archery target but larger, with night pearls inlaid around its edges for communication with those inside the Black and White Rapids. According to established rules, when those inside had messages but couldn’t conveniently deliver them, they could attach them to arrows and shoot them out.
When they’d completely abandoned the place, the message board had been empty. Now there were two arrows.
They were conspicuous—messages sent out by the Coiled Head Army inside, who didn’t know they’d been abandoned.
The two arrows were retrieved, with sealed bamboo tubes tied to their shafts. When opened, the tubes contained messages written in blood on torn cloth strips. Though decades had passed, thanks to the tubes’ good sealing, the characters on the cloth were still clearly visible.
Xing Shen took a deep breath: “These cloth strips certainly haven’t survived to today, so Uncle Jiang never saw exactly what was written or how it was phrased—he only saw later records.”
“The first message essentially said that the secret of immortality the emperor sought was related to Nüwa’s flesh. They had leads but needed manpower and requested new support.”
“Unfortunately, in the second message, only a few characters were barely recognizable, the rest stained with blood. People speculated that something must have happened after writing it, perhaps an attack, and in the emergency, there was no time to rewrite it, so it was hastily sent out. The few readable characters were ‘Kuafu’ and ‘Seven.'”
Yan Tuo’s whole body shuddered as he blurted out: “The Seven Fingers of Kuafu?”