Chapter One: The Guge Silver Eye Death Talisman

Prologue: Delving into the Historical Depths, Relics of an Ancient Kingdom

Tibet boasts a long and profound history. In bygone days, the ancient Guge Kingdom excelled in metallurgy. The metal Buddha statues and ritual implements in twenty-four subordinate monasteries of the Three Circles of Ngari, centered around Tholing Monastery, were all cast by the Ruba artisans.

Legend has it that the Buddha statues cast by the Ruba were smelted from a mixture of raw materials such as gold, silver, and copper. The craftsmanship was exquisite, leaving the entire body utterly seamless as if naturally formed, and their value even surpassed that of pure gold Buddha statues. Among them, the most miraculous was a type of copper statue known as the "Guge Silver Eye," regarded as the pinnacle of Buddhist imagery. Rarely circulating in the world, it was held in exceptionally high esteem and prized above all.

In the summer of 1997, during the archaeological excavation of the Dukang Hall at the Piyang ruins, an exquisite copper statue was unearthed, finally lifting the veil of mystery surrounding the "Guge Silver Eye." This copper statue wore a crown of transformation Buddhas, held ritual implements in its four arms, and sat in the full lotus posture upon a beast-supported lotus throne. Its head bore three eyes, the central one on its forehead being an uncanny, vertical eye. All three eyeballs were crafted using a silver-plating technique, gleaming brilliantly against the backdrop of the golden-yellow copper statue, vivid and lifelike. This was the so-called "Guge Silver Eye," and it indeed proved to be fully deserving of its legendary reputation.

Three hundred years ago, the mysterious Guge Kingdom vanished from the earth overnight, leaving behind for the world only the ruins that recorded the brilliant and magnificent cultural and artistic achievements of the Guge. Ever since the inspection team organized by the Cultural Relics Administration Committee of the Tibet Autonomous Region reaped tremendous rewards here in 1985, this vanished kingdom suddenly stepped back into the public eye, attracting an ever-growing stream of travelers from all four corners of the globe.

Guge was not buried among the endless, dilapidated historical ruins of Tibet; on the contrary, after a tenth of the twenty-first century had passed, it had already drawn over a dozen renowned archaeological teams from around the world, all eager to unearth the secrets lurking within the "Guge Silver Eye." Yet, with countless troops eyeing it like tigers watching their prey, it remained entirely uncertain whose hands the prize would ultimately fall into...

The twilight view of Tholing Monastery was incomparably breathtaking—far more magnificent than any footage captured by the Discovery Channel, any photographs in Tibetan travel magazines, or any descriptions uttered by tourism experts.

The setting sun, like flowing blood, illuminated the clustered earth forests and the ancient Tibetan monastery encircled by them. The earth was serene, devoid of any chaotic sound. Everything was draped in a rich orange gauze, as though frozen since the dawn of time, transforming into a mysterious oil painting set against a backdrop of blue skies and yellow earth.

Ding Jun's off-road vehicle slowly came to a halt outside the gates of Tholing Monastery, and he leaped out with a travel bag slung over his shoulder.

Below the steps, a young man draped in a maroon monk's robe was waiting for him.

"You must be Mr. Ding from Hong Kong? Mr. Shi is waiting for you." The young monk smiled with humble courtesy.

Ding Jun slung his travel bag over his shoulder, pressed his palms together in a greeting, and bowed to the other man. "Thank you, young master. Please lead the way."

The monk guided him along a gravel path turning right, skirting around the monastery and heading toward the rear. From within the walls drifted a blend of butter lamps, sandalwood, and the low chanting of monks accompanied by the striking of various ritual implements.

Tholing Monastery is located on the banks of the Elephant Spring River, northwest of Zada County in the Ngari Prefecture of the Tibet Autonomous Region. Tholing is the Tibetan transliteration, meaning "flying in the sky and never falling." Situated on the very fringes of Tibet, it naturally could not boast the massive crowds of tourists and pilgrims seen in the major monasteries of Lhasa or Shigatse.

Soon, the monk led Ding Jun through a small side door, entering the monastic residential area at the back of the temple.

Going further still, the monk pushed open a wicker gate belonging to a small courtyard, stood by the entrance, and smiled as he told Ding Jun, "Mr. Shi is inside. Please."

Ding Jun entered the courtyard. Before he could even step onto the threshold of the doorway, the ancient wooden door creaked open, and a young woman in her early twenties walked out to meet him. A pair of limpid, expressive eyes swept over Ding Jun, and she offered a faint smile without speaking. Instead, she half-turned her body, extended her arm, and made a welcoming gesture.

She stood approximately one hundred and sixty-five centimeters tall, with fair skin, a straight bridge of the nose, and well-defined, cherry-red lips lightly brushed with the palest tint of lipstick. In a single glance, she left a profound impression on Ding Jun.

This woman, with her delicate facial features, wore a pitch-black leather trench coat of simple design and flawless tailoring. A matching leather belt, about an inch wide, precisely accentuated her slender, exquisite waist.

"Thank you," Ding Jun nodded, then stepped up the stone steps, crossed the foot-high ancient wooden threshold, and walked into the room.

The interior furnishings were rustic and simple, featuring only an archaic long table—three meters long and two meters wide—surrounded by chairs, square stools, and benches of varying heights.

Sitting by the table was a lean-faced middle-aged man wearing gold-rimmed glasses, head bowed as he read a book.

"Uncle Shi?" Ding Jun stopped and asked in a low voice.

The middle-aged man raised his head, took off his glasses, brushed back the graying strands of hair hanging over his forehead, and fixed his gaze intently on Ding Jun.

Ding Jun bowed deeply. "Uncle Shi, I am Ding Jun, Shi Hai's comrade-in-arms. I should have come to see you much sooner, but I was delayed by various trivial matters. Please forgive me."

The middle-aged man stood up, walked around the table, and patted Ding Jun's shoulder. "Little Ding, it's enough that you've come; it's enough that you've come. To make you travel all this way just to bring Xiao Hai's remains back, I truly feel terrible about it."

Ding Jun placed the travel bag on the table. The middle-aged man's sparse, long eyebrows trembled, and tears suddenly welled up in his eyes.

Hardening his heart, Ding Jun opened the travel bag and lifted out a square paper box. Opening the box, he removed all the homespun cloth, sponge, and shock-absorbent foam packing, finally revealing a black ceramic urn for ashes.

"Shi Hai, you've come home. What I promised you, I have finally accomplished," Ding Jun murmured softly, handing the urn to the middle-aged man. He had already been in contact with Shi Miaoshou back in Hong Kong. This was a father burying his own son—the grief of an older man outliving a younger one can well be imagined. Yet, some things had to be faced; a lingering pain is worse than a short one.

"Thank you... thank you..." Tears streamed down Shi Miaoshou's aged face as he gently patted the urn. "Xiao Hai, you're home. Good boy, Dad has waited for you for so long..."

This was the most agonizing moment. Although Ding Jun had prepared himself mentally, his heart still felt as though it were being pierced by knives.

The young woman silently served two cups of tea, then took the funeral urn from Shi Miaoshou's hands and placed it on a small table in the corner.

"Sit down, Little Ding. I was temporarily overwhelmed by grief, making you a laughingstock," Shi Miaoshou said.

Ding Jun sat down, took another package wrapped in a dozen layers of plastic bags out of his travel bag, pushed it across to Shi Miaoshou, and said in a strained tone, "Uncle Shi, these are the photographs from the scene when Shi Hai gave his life in the line of duty. Ordinarily, I shouldn't have photographed such a harrowing scene to show you, but before embarking on that mission, he told me specifically that if he met with misfortune—no matter how bloody the scene—I must photograph it, have the pictures developed, and deliver them directly to you. This was his instruction; entrusted by another, I must remain loyal to the task, and I dared not fail to do so."

Shi Miaoshou extended a lean, withered right hand, pressed it atop the bag, and remained silent with a furrowed brow.

"Uncle Shi, are you all right?" Ding Jun worried that Shi Miaoshou might succumb to excessive grief and suffer further complications.

Shi Miaoshou shook his head. "I am fine, Little Ding. Thank you for bringing Xiao Hai's belongings back. Now, drink a cup of tea, and while the day is still early, head back to Zada County."

Ding Jun had originally expected the man to inquire in detail about the circumstances surrounding Shi Hai's death, but he had never imagined he would be dismissed with a cup of tea so hastily, stirring a sense of suspicion in his heart. Furthermore, when he spoke with Shi Miaoshou over the phone in Hong Kong, the man had repeatedly insisted that once they met, they must talk all through the night, and that he would keep him in Zada County for an extended stay, treating him just like his own biological son, exactly as he had treated Shi Hai.

"Uncle Shi, I'm not in a hurry. Regarding the burial of the ashes, if I can be of any help—"

Shi Miaoshou shook his head once more. "I have plenty of people on hand here; I won't trouble you with minor matters."

The young woman standing in the corner suddenly spoke in a low voice: "Uncle Shi."

Shi Miaoshou appeared somewhat nervous and immediately turned around. "Miss Fang Qing, what is it you wish to say? Little Ding is a guest who has traveled from afar and is unfamiliar with the terrain around Tholing Monastery. I am concerned that once darkness falls, he won't be able to find his way back."

The young woman let out a low sigh, clasped her hands together, hesitated for a few seconds, and then said, "Uncle Shi, an extra friend means an extra measure of strength, does it not? This matter concerns whether the descendants of the Shi family can safely be brought into this world; what could possibly be more important than that? Mr. Ding is Shi Hai's comrade and possesses the richest frontline experience; we are in desperate need of such talent."

Ding Jun stood between the two of them, listening quietly, his peripheral vision falling upon the book Shi Miaoshou had been reading earlier. The book had been closed, but a corner of several sheets of paper tucked inside protruded outward.

With acute perception, he deduced that Shi Miaoshou had been looking at those papers rather than reading.

Shi Miaoshou shook his head a third time. "Little Ding has nothing to do with this matter. This is my family's affair; I cannot drag an innocent person into it."

Ding Jun leaned forward, lifted the cover of the book, and three palm-sized, cyan-blue letter papers instantly came into view. On each sheet of paper, a strange human figure was drawn.

"Little Ding, it's nothing. Pay us no mind; finish your tea and leave," Shi Miaoshou said dejectedly.

The young woman walked over, pointed at the three sheets of paper, and looked up at Ding Jun. "Mr. Ding, you are a veteran of countless battles and widely experienced—surely you know what these represent?"

Ding Jun picked up the topmost sheet and gazed at it intently. It turned out that the paper depicted a Buddha statue. The statue wore a jeweled crown, possessed one head and four arms, held ritual implements in each of its four hands, and sat in the lotus posture upon a beast-supported lotus throne. The lines in the drawing gleamed under the light, seemingly painted with liquid gold. Most astonishingly, the Buddha's face bore three eyes, with the central one oriented vertically—the so-called "vertical eye." The color of the three eyes differed from the other lines, evidently brushed with liquid silver, crystal-clear, dazzlingly bright, and intensely striking.

"I know," he replied with just two words.

The young woman took a deep breath and asked again, "Mr. Ding, do you find anything strange about it?"

Ding Jun slowly answered, "Legend has it that the third eye always bears the name of a specific person—the one destined to receive this drawing. Whoever receives it, their time of death has arrived. How strange... why is there no name written on this one?"

The young woman's hands trembled as if she were desperately suppressing the anger raging in her heart. "Because this one is addressed to an unborn infant. The baby has not yet been born and has no name yet. Naturally, the sender could not write a name. Yet even this infant, not yet brought into the world, has already been placed on the blacklist of the 'Guge Silver Eye Death Warrant'..."

"Say no more! Say no more! Say no more!" Shi Miaoshou suddenly roared.

The name of that artwork was indeed the "Guge Silver Eye Death Warrant," originating from some place deep within the mountainous terrain of Tibet.

The Guge Silver Eye was a unique technique for crafting Buddha statues native to the ancient Guge Kingdom of Ngari in Tibet, characterized by inlaying white silver into the copper statue's eyes to make the pupils appear as though endowed with life. Mainland archaeological personnel had unearthed an exquisite copper statue designated as the "Guge Silver Eye" during the summer of 1997 in the Dukang Hall of the Piyang ruins—it was identical to the Buddha depicted in this drawing.

The Death Warrant was equivalent to an advanced notice of mortality. For the one who received it, the only course of action was to close their eyes and await death, for from ancient times to the present, no one had ever been able to resist its life-claiming magic.