Chapter 26: Riddled with Doubts

On the other side, Aunt Ge had also died, leaving behind a host of mysteries.

Ding Jun returned to the crossroads to meet up with Huoshen.

The injured impostor monk had taken advantage of the thick fog to escape. Nothing had gone smoothly tonight—it was truly unlucky! Huoshen grumbled.

No matter what, Aunt Ge’s use of illusion to mimic the voices of He Wuqiu and Fang Qing, without luring them into a trap, could be considered another form of victory for them.

As the fog gradually lifted, the two entered the Sutra Library, only to find Fang Qing standing alone in the center of the hall, draped with gauze curtains, lost in thought with her hands clasped behind her back.

Seeing her unharmed, Ding Jun momentarily relaxed. It seemed the fake monk had only been bluffing and had not taken control of Fang Qing.

Fang Qing furrowed her brows deeply. “Mr. Ding, you’re here. Just in time—I have a strange question I can’t figure out. Who cut Si Qin twice? The wounds are only about half a centimeter deep, just skin-deep, not life-threatening at all. Whether it was close combat, a thrown knife, or an accidental slash, none of those scenarios would leave such wounds. I’ve tried to simulate various situations in this hall, and all are impossible to produce such marks. Now, I’m sitting cross-legged here, and you’re supposed to slash me with a knife…”

Her eyes were fixed solely on Ding Jun; Huoshen was invisible to her, as if he were air.

Then she sat down cross-legged exactly where Si Qin had been.

Ding Jun didn’t actually draw his knife to strike her but instead paced slowly around her.

“Let me try,” Huoshen volunteered.

Ding Jun shook his head. “No need. The only explanation for those wounds is that Si Qin inflicted them on herself.”

Huoshen asked in confusion, “Self-mutilation? But she’s pregnant—how could that be?”

Ding Jun sighed. “This is far too complicated. If you try to understand it through normal logic, you’ll hit a dead end.”

Fang Qing jumped up, looked down at her feet, and pondered silently for a moment before suddenly exclaiming, “A pregnant woman self-harming must mean she doesn’t want the baby. That explains all her strange behavior when we met before. The answer is that her mind was being controlled by someone.”

Ding Jun was about to speak when Fang Qing waved him off. “Don’t interrupt, listen. I saw the ‘Vessel of Ten Thousand Gu’ in Si Qin’s eyes because she truly is a vessel for cultivating Gu insects—a living ‘Vessel of Ten Thousand Gu.’ Some Gu alchemist planted a Gu in her womb, using her as a breeding vessel to nurture something beyond our imagination. When she was lucid, she naturally resisted being a vessel and finally found a chance to slash herself. But that window was very brief, and because she had been controlled for so long, her limbs were weak, so the wounds remained shallow…”

Though the explanation was complex, Ding Jun’s mind cleared instantly—all of this pointed to Shi Miaoshou as the mastermind.

It was like solving a complicated math problem by first knowing the answer, then working through the process; the clarity was effortless.

Thus, all the baffling mysteries unfolding within Tuolin Temple could be unraveled instantly when framed with the fact that Shi Miaoshou was behind everything.

“Now, if we guard Si Qin, we can seize the initiative. What do you say?” Fang Qing finished.

Ding Jun agreed with the conclusion but couldn’t shake a vague unease about Shi Miaoshou’s disappearance—it felt strangely suspicious.

“Have you gone to see Si Qin?” he asked.

Fang Qing shook her head. “The temple’s warrior monks are on rotation guarding her and the two masters. After such a major event, the senior monks in charge of Tuolin Temple can’t just keep out of it.”

Huoshen, unable to contribute, leaned bored against the doorframe, chewing on a grass stalk.

“Aunt Ge’s confession made it clear that Shi Miaoshou is the mastermind. We should guess where he might be right now,” Ding Jun said.

Fang Qing immediately gave an address: the old Shi family mansion in Zhada County.

It’s winter in Tibet; survival outdoors is nearly impossible. The nearby villages are small, and any stranger entering would be known throughout the village within hours. Therefore, if Shi Miaoshou wanted to hide, he could only have returned to Zhada County. Based on this, if they held onto Si Qin, Shi Miaoshou would eventually come back.

The two exchanged a long breath of relief.

Until now, everything they had done felt like a kitten chasing its tail—going around in circles to no avail, thoroughly toyed with by Shi Miaoshou. After Ding Jun killed Aunt Ge and the middle-aged man who used the Five Horses Dismemberment Curse, the balance of victory was finally tipping in their favor.

“At least we can still grasp the last initiative, right?” Fang Qing smiled bitterly.

“Is that so?” Ding Jun countered. He couldn’t fully calm his heart. Shi Miaoshou had crafted a grand ruse, involving everyone except himself, then vanished without a trace—an abrupt turn that defied logic.

“I think so. Of course, after dawn, I’ll go see Si Qin and the two masters. Once they awaken, many mysteries will unravel. But for now, answer me this—what does the mark under the carpet mean? Why did Master Penco Jebu specifically send you to see it?” Fang Qing said as she moved toward the carpet’s edge.

Ding Jun remained still, for he too had no answer.

Fang Qing bent down, lifted the carpet, and stepped back two paces, revealing a five-step-square patch of floor.

Huoshen hurried over, eager to assist, and pulled out his flashlight, illuminating the circular pattern formed by three new moons.

“I’ve never seen such a strange pattern—three moons combined with an Arabic numeral. What could it represent? Internationally, the only major gangs named after numbers are Macau’s 14K, Hong Kong’s Triads, and America’s Ku Klux Klan... As for moon emblems, those are even rarer... You looked at it without saying a word. Shouldn’t you say something now?” Fang Qing asked again.

Huoshen crouched, caressing the tile, and asked ingratiatingly, “Miss Fang, want to lift the tile and see what’s underneath?”

Every Tibetan temple conceals secret chambers or cellars beneath—an indisputable fact. Experienced treasure hunters pay more attention to underground secrets than to the temple itself.

“Look at the soil in the tile joints. The tile hasn’t moved, but the soil beneath has long been disturbed and carefully refilled. The difference between centuries-old soil and soil disturbed only years or months ago is obvious. So, let’s abandon that idea,” Ding Jun said.

Huoshen lowered the flashlight, its beam narrowing to just two millimeters, illuminating the tile joints.

“It’s a modern composite of mechanized lime powder mixed with semi-processed new soil, not the traditional lime paste and black soil used centuries ago. That alone proves the foundation has been tampered with. Those elusive professional tomb robbers wouldn’t miss any site marked with special symbols. If they didn’t find the treasure, no one else need bother,” Ding Jun sighed deeply.

He had understood these peculiarities the first time he lifted the carpet.

“Then tell me, what does the symbol actually represent?” Fang Qing pressed, undeterred.

“I don’t know,” Ding Jun shook his head. “I know as much as you do—I see the symbol but can’t fathom its meaning.”

A trace of doubt flickered in Fang Qing’s eyes, but seeing Ding Jun’s candid expression, she found no cracks in his honesty and reluctantly replaced the carpet.

By the time they returned to the small courtyard, dawn had broken.

Ding Jun forced himself into a deep sleep to replenish his strength and energy. Everyone was like a battery—they couldn’t be used without recharging. For him, deep sleep was the best way to recharge.

In his dreams, Aunt Ge’s illusions lingered, with various murals and Buddha statues flying through the air. The scene of him assassinating Aunt Ge replayed repeatedly, especially the sixteen Vajra dancing maidens gracefully moving to the drumbeat, their charm imprinted deeply in his mind. Their eyes flickered, their ribbons fluttered—his vision and mind filled with their enchanting dance. Sometimes, he felt he was nearing the heart of a secret, like a riddle solver occasionally grasping a clue but never quite holding it—the clue drifting away like a dandelion playing hide and seek.

That mark—the three new moons represented... those two thoughts cycled through his dreams thousands of times.

Who left the mark, and what were they trying to tell me? Sometimes he felt on the brink of mental exhaustion, sweating profusely from overthinking.

He must find the answer. In some inscrutable way, delivering Shi Hai’s urn to Tuolin Temple and seeing the mysterious symbol in the Sutra Library was heaven’s guidance—not to give up, not to despair, but to keep moving forward... I am the ‘Hunter King,’ the eternal lone warrior, the ceaseless traveler... The dream-self reminded the waking-self of his mission, and even in sleep, he would not forget it.

At ten o’clock in the morning, Fang Qing, her face full of alarm, woke him.

“Something’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up.

Fang Qing nodded, biting her lip as she paced beside his bed, seeming to weigh her words carefully.

“Speak quickly and plainly. No speculations or guesses,” Ding Jun urged.

She came back and sat on the edge of the bed, clasping her hands tightly. “It’s possible the baby in Si Qin’s womb is already dead. All the masters skilled in medicine are now gathered in the monks’ quarters, taking turns checking her pulse. But... but... but...”

“But you can’t detect the baby’s pulse, right?” Ding Jun’s heart clenched.

Fang Qing nodded. “Yes, I can only feel Si Qin’s adult pulse; the baby’s pulse has vanished without a trace. Such a strange phenomenon only occurs in two circumstances—”

Ding Jun cut her off immediately. “No need to explain—I understand. Get to the point.”

This was terrible news. If the baby was dead, holding their position here was pointless. The absence of a fetal pulse could only be due to a stillbirth or premature birth. Since Si Qin hadn’t delivered early, it had to be the former.

The two masters remained unconscious, Si Qin’s condition fluctuated, her breathing faint, and she could die at any moment. The top medical masters said that with such a long journey, she might not survive the transport. Fang Qing said grimly.