Chapter Fourteen: The Cauldron of Refining Gu, The Plate of Ten Thousand Insects

“Enough about that girl. Tell me about yourself. What brings you to Tolin Monastery in search of treasure?” Ding Jun steered the conversation back to the main topic.

“In short, Qinglong commissioned me to find the gem called the ‘Heart of the Holy Infant’ and provided me with detailed information proving that this gem is linked to the legendary Women’s City. The call you just received was from him. You should know that the Women’s City lies deep within a great snowy mountain on the westernmost edge of the region, and Tolin Monastery in Zhada County is the last stop before entering the mountains. As for me, I’m only interested in money, not lofty ambitions like Qinglong. He’s obsessed with the elusive legend of the ‘Guge divine power’ and stubbornly believes that obtaining the ‘Heart of the Holy Infant’ will grant him that power and make him the ruler of the world. I can’t be bothered with all that. Anyway, I’ve signed a formal contract with Qinglong, so even if I end up running a fruitless errand, I still get paid three million US dollars for my trouble. Now, with the battle about to erupt here at Tolin Monastery, I plan to keep my distance, watch from the sidelines, and at the end help clean up the battlefield,” Ruan Feng replied.

According to Ding Jun’s knowledge, the Heart of the Holy Infant gem appeared during the height of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom. It is a silver rhombus-shaped stone, with its longest diagonal measuring three inches and the shortest one inch. Suspended within the center of the gem is a blood-red ruby shaped like a baby’s heart. Such a dual-colored nested gemstone is exceptionally rare, underscoring its immense value.

In the past, the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom implemented a sacred treasury system, mandating all spoils of war to be surrendered for the state’s use. Thus, the Heart of the Holy Infant was housed in the kingdom’s treasury in Nanjing. After the Taiping army’s defeat and the fall of Nanjing, the gem vanished without a trace. The most accepted theory among archaeologists and historians is that the gem was taken by Wing King Shi Dakai, who disappeared mysteriously with a massive cache of gold near the Dadu River.

As for the Women’s City, it is said to be a mysterious power entrenched deep within the snowy mountains, akin to the mythical land of women where only females live, no men.

Ding Jun had met Qinglong several times. On the surface, Qinglong appeared indifferent and resolute, but inwardly he was an ambitious strategist, destined to astonish the world unexpectedly.

Regardless of others, Ding Jun’s sole desire was to help Shi Miaoshou overcome his difficulties and then quietly withdraw from the scene.

“Hey, what do you say? Join me? Hanging out with Shi Miaoshou’s group won’t get you anywhere,” Ruan Feng suddenly perked up.

“Forget it. Everyone has their own path. I won’t get in your way of making a fortune. I have to return to Tolin Monastery now,” Ding Jun politely declined.

Ruan Feng was denied and sulkily tossed his beer can into the vehicle with a clink.

“Treasure is everywhere, but only stubborn fools like you run around working for others. I wonder what Qinglong admires about you? Look ahead—see that small hill beneath the ruins? It’s said to be entirely filled with gold and silver. If the government hadn’t protected it, treasure hunters would have stripped it bare long ago. Ding Jun, wake up! No one survives without looking out for themselves. This is an immutable truth!” he said.

The Guge ruins stood starkly in the slanting western sunlight, silent and desolate like a massive ancient tomb. It seemed a microcosm of the vast lands, thousands of treasures buried underground, decaying with history. Treasure hunting and exploration had become the unspoken ultimate goal for those venturing into Tibet. Some never even glimpsed a treasure before meeting untimely ends, while others pressed on in waves, collectively weaving the legend of the Tibetan treasure rush.

Ding Jun knew he was different from them. Different paths do not converge.

On the return journey, Ruan Feng still refused to give up, trying to persuade Ding Jun to join the search for the Heart of the Holy Infant.

Ultimately, Ruan Feng’s true fixation was on the legendary Heavenly Kingdom’s treasure. After the upheaval at the Dadu River, Shi Dakai had surrendered himself to save thousands of his men, but the Qing army never found the treasure he had smuggled out of Tianjing. Insiders said the treasure had long been escorted westward by Shi Dakai’s trusted forces, crossing mountains and valleys, disappearing deep into the snowy mountains.

“No worries if we can’t find the gem. If we uncover even a portion of the Heavenly Kingdom’s treasure, we could become fabulously wealthy,” Ruan Feng enthused.

Ding Jun got off a kilometer from Tolin Monastery, bid farewell to Ruan Feng, and walked back alone.

By chance, after walking only a short distance, he encountered Fang Qing standing by the roadside.

“I saw you get off at the monastery’s high platform and came out to meet you,” she said, concern evident in her voice, stirring an inexplicable warmth in Ding Jun’s chest.

As dusk approached, the setting sun dyed Tolin Monastery and the earth forest an orange-red hue, a breathtaking spectacle. This scene was beloved by many international photographers and featured in nearly every travel magazine with aerial views of the orange-hued Tolin Monastery.

Yet such beauty failed to capture the attention of the two; their minds were consumed by the impending annihilation facing the Shi family.

“What is everyone doing?” Ding Jun asked. Though they had been out all day, he couldn’t stop thinking about last night’s massacre.

“Everyone is holding their positions, eating well, sleeping well, and waiting quietly for the decisive battle. The enemy lurks in the shadows, and we know nothing about them. Besides waiting, there’s really nothing else we can do,” Fang Qing said helplessly.

Ding Jun carefully recounted the strange happenings inside the cave to Fang Qing, seeking her opinion. Unlike Ruan Feng, he described the surroundings, cave dimensions, sunlight intensity, and temperature clearly before ruling out hallucinations, nightmares, auditory or visual illusions. Only then did he mention the core phenomenon—a white-clad girl’s shadow appearing on the water’s surface.

He took out the photo he had kept from Ruan Feng and handed it to Fang Qing.

“It’s a mirage,” she judged at first, agreeing with Ding Jun. Yet she quickly contradicted herself. If it were truly a mirage, it would overturn all scientific definitions meteorologists have held about them. Never before had anyone witnessed such a clear mirage—truly astonishing and terrifying.

They sat on a stretch of exposed sandstone by the roadside, exchanging views.

“No theory can explain this. The image appears and disappears without warning. To put it crudely, it’s like someone controlling a television: turn on the power, the screen displays an image; turn it off, the image vanishes. That’s the most plausible explanation I’ve come up with on the way here,” Ding Jun said.

“You describe it well. But who would bother using such a trick in a place like this to confuse tourists? Or, here’s a counterpoint: could it be that Ruan Feng deliberately set a trap to distract you, preventing you from focusing fully on the assassin who sent the death warrant?” Fang Qing’s idea was unique, yet human nature is cunning, and Ruan Feng’s behavior unpredictable. Such a ruse—appearing straightforward but concealing ulterior motives—was possible.

Ding Jun pondered silently for a few minutes before shaking his head slowly. “You didn’t see Ruan Feng’s reaction. It definitely wasn’t him. When he saw that woman on the water, all his strength focused in his eyes, as if trying to dig the shadow out of the water and carry it away. Love or not, you see it immediately. Even if someone set a trap, it wasn’t him, but another party who trapped both of us.”

Fang Qing held the photo, scrutinizing it in the last rays of the setting sun.

Suddenly, a giant eagle with a wingspan of four meters swooped diagonally across the sky, swiftly flying toward the western sunset.

“Men die for wealth; birds die for food,” Fang Qing murmured softly.

“What do you mean by that?” Ding Jun was taken aback, as their discussion had centered on the photo.

“Ding Jun, don’t you think Zhu Ye and his men are here solely for the treasure? The legendary Heavenly Kingdom’s treasure is vast. Before the defeat at the Dadu River, Shi Dakai ordered the treasure to be disguised and sent west overnight, breaking through the Qing siege. That treasure was the Taiping’s hope to restore their kingdom. It seems those defeated in politics and war never accept failure quietly—they always leave a way out before the final battle, lacking the resolve of Xiang Yu, the Western Chu hegemon, who famously burned his boats,” she said.

“No one survives without looking out for themselves. That’s undeniable. The key is whether they can help Uncle Shi protect Shi Hai’s son.”

Dusk crept closer. At the mention of the child, Fang Qing shivered suddenly, instinctively crossing her arms to grip her sleeves.

Ding Jun noticed that every time Fang Qing sensed imminent danger, she reflexively reached for her gun.

“That baby is strange—no, that pregnant woman is strange. I can’t believe you don’t see it. I’ve been studying Tibetan Buddhism under Master Chisang Jiacuo for some time. Previously, entering the Tibetan scripture hall, I felt immense psychological pressure. This time, I didn’t even dare meet that pregnant woman’s gaze because I saw...,” Fang Qing faltered, clenching her lips and grinding her teeth.

Ding Jun listened silently, letting her continue her train of thought.

“That baby is the Shi family’s only bloodline and Shi Hai’s last legacy to this world. No matter what, I must ensure the baby is born safely. That’s the first step. The second is to do everything possible to repel the Guge assassins so the baby can grow up safely.

“My own nature is just and resolute, not aggressive, the exact opposite of the sharp and cold Shi Hai. As long as the assassins back off, I won’t pursue them. Safety and self-preservation are the ultimate goals.

“Don’t overthink. From a medical perspective, when a woman carries a new life inside her, her body undergoes unpredictable changes. The human body remains an enigma baffling scientists worldwide. Two such enigmas inside a pregnant woman’s body only make things more complex,” she said.

Fang Qing took a deep breath and looked Ding Jun in the eye. “You can’t imagine what I saw in the pregnant woman’s eyes... I saw the ‘Cauldron of Ten Thousand Gu’!”

Her lightly made-up face turned pale, her cherry lips trembling, revealing fierce inner turmoil.

With a sharp sound, she drew two three-inch pistols from her crossed sleeves, sliding them along her knees as the safety catches clicked off simultaneously.

“Careful of accidental discharge. Relax,” Ding Jun whispered.

He noticed the pistol grips were inlaid with precious South American obsidian, and in the center of each was a finely wrought golden seal engraved with the characters of Fang Qing’s name in ancient script.

“Mr. Ding, you truly remain unshaken even when Mount Tai crumbles before you!” Fang Qing closed her eyes, lips quivering as she fought to control her swirling thoughts.

“Don’t speak. Let me help you.” Ding Jun raised his right hand and pressed his thumb onto the Dazhui acupoint at the back of Fang Qing’s neck, massaging clockwise six times, then counterclockwise six times. After five repetitions, her emotions gradually calmed.

“Thank you,” Fang Qing opened her eyes and exhaled deeply.

The Dazhui acupoint is a vital spot on the neck where the Yang energy of the three Yang meridians of the hands and feet converge and ascend along the Governing Vessel to the head and neck. It contains abundant Yang energy from the Taodao point of the Governing Vessel, supplemented by Yang energy from the three Yang meridians dispersed across the back. The plentiful Yang energy here is robust. External massage can suppress the overwhelming Yang energy, preventing it from bursting forth uncontrollably.

This sophisticated internal Chinese martial art was not learned in the Delta Unit but personally taught by Ding Jun’s father.

“People experience visual, auditory, and sensory hallucinations. Sometimes what the eyes see isn’t reality,” Ding Jun remarked.

Fang Qing smiled wryly. “But I saw the ‘Cauldron of Ten Thousand Gu’! I’m not a Gu sorcerer from Miaojiang. I’ve never had such things in my mind. How could such a sudden hallucination appear?”

The Cauldron of Ten Thousand Gu is a secret tool exclusive to Gu sorcerers of Miaojiang. During Gu concoction, sorcerers collect various poisonous insects and confine them in a sealed container to fight and devour each other until the last survivor emerges. That survivor becomes the deadliest Gu toxin of the season. The container, used repeatedly over decades, becomes permeated with poison gas and venom from the insects, earning the title “Cauldron of Ten Thousand Gu.”