Chapter Fifty-three: The Illusion of the Black Hole

While the two conversed, Guan Wen kept his head down, eating his bread and drinking water, the word “prison cage” circling endlessly in his mind.

When they first entered the cavern, they’d used flashlights to illuminate it, and the black hole had appeared a certain way; now, under the glow of battery lamps, the black hole looked entirely different. The black dome, the ground, and the four walls seemed like a vast lump of putty, sliced freely by the beams of light, forming all sorts of irregular shapes. The patterns shifted with the changing light, again and again, endlessly. Yet no matter how the light wove and darted, it could never escape the grasp of the darkness. Wherever the light reached, the darkness was there, lying in wait.

A prison of darkness...a black hole...we are inside the black hole... Once more, Guan Wen felt a strange sensation rise in his heart. If the light could not escape the dominion of darkness, then neither could the three of them; they too were trapped within it. Of course, as long as they left the cave, their bodies could break free, move as they wished—but what about their minds? Those treasure hunters and pilgrims drawn by the great treasure and the teachings of the Buddha—were their thoughts forever shackled by this black hole, condemned never to escape?

Even if those people were separated by endless mountains and rivers, they’d still struggle to make their way here, like moths flying into the flame, hurling themselves into the black hole.

The reason the black hole could swallow all strangers was that it possessed a fatal attraction of its own, making those who arrived forget the dangers of the unknown and see only the dazzling halo. One misstep, and regret would come too late.

We are inside the prison of the black hole—Suddenly, Guan Wen stood, raising his arms toward Gu and Gao, who were still debating. “I understand now. The reason we can’t find the path forward is because we are already within the black hole. Since we are inside, why keep looking for a passage?”

Gao Xiang was dumbfounded. “What? What are you saying?”

Guan Wen strode over to the tangled vines, rapidly sorting out his chaotic thoughts. Word by word, he spoke clearly: “We are already in the sealed ground of the predecessors of Tashilhunpo Monastery. When Master Shu and his companions sealed the cave, there must have been a master of great power who, beyond physically sealing the entrance, added a second, mystical seal. That is why everything now is flawless and without trace. Only by breaking that seal can we see the truth.”

Gao Xiang was even more bewildered. “Guan Wen, I really don’t understand what you’re saying. Of course we’re in the sealed place—that doesn’t need repeating.”

Gu Qingcheng was more direct—and more effective: “Then tell us, what are we supposed to do?”

Guan Wen brushed his hand over the monstrous, claw-like vines. “Cut through all of them.”

Without hesitation, Gu Qingcheng drew her knife and began slicing the vines nearest the wall, her blade pressed close to the stone, severing thick and thin vines alike. Though Gao Xiang didn’t understand, he joined in as instructed, drawing his knife to help.

Guan Wen picked up a segment of vine for inspection. The branches were all hollow; some reeked of blood, while others released a faint scent of sandalwood.

In less than a quarter of an hour, the vines within arm’s reach of the cave wall were cleared away. The ceiling of the cave, about three meters high, was out of reach without a ladder or stool, and the rest of the work could not be completed. On the exposed black stone wall, faint white lines could be seen, broken here and there, likely incised with some sharp stone.

All three noticed the lines, but only Guan Wen’s face lit up with sudden joy; Gu and Gao were left puzzled.

“You understand them?” Gao Xiang, who had been watching Guan Wen’s expression, asked.

“I said before, we are already within the black hole. This is not just a place of devouring darkness, but an infinite mandala constructed with the blood of our predecessors. What we can see are the black background and white lines; what we cannot see are the details they painted with their own blood for pigment, their bones as brushes.” He pressed himself against the wall, stretching his body as wide as possible, forehead, torso, and limbs touching the stone, as if bowing in full prostration while standing.

Gao Xiang shook his head with a sigh. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about, I—”

Gu Qingcheng gently hushed him, signaling for silence.

Guan Wen rolled along the wall, pressing both his front and back to the stone, feeling for the mandala left by his predecessors. To his senses, the mandala was boundless, unconstrained by the undulations of the stone or the interruptions of the lines. It pulsed with limitless energy, radiating outward, bursting through the cave mouth, enveloping the mountains and the entire plateau, forming the greatest mandala—one that bridged the cosmos and the ages, all-encompassing, all-embracing, all-reaching, everywhere.

In this state, he seemed to soar above the plateau, Shigatse, the Nyenchen Tanglha, and Tashilhunpo Monastery, like an aerial surveyor. At the same time, he felt as though he was in a time machine, traveling through the ages, witnessing the history of the land. Finally, his senses—sight, hearing, smell—rushed along the hollow vines in the stone, plunging straight to the end of the black hole.

“I see it, I see it...” He stopped rolling, pressed his palms to the back of his head, and rested his forehead against the stone.

He truly saw it: in a basin like a Roman amphitheater, countless ascetics in diverse garb stood at various heights, all focused on the center at the lowest point. There, the ground was like a glass plate, and beneath the glass, there was a blackness so deep it defied description. At first, it appeared just a flat patch of black, but upon closer inspection, one could sense its unfathomable depth, its strange menace, as if all the world’s evil and darkness were hidden within. If even a drop of what was contained there were to spill out, the world would be stained black as ink, reeking unbearably.

Because of this, the black hole inspired the utmost fear and loathing—like a traveler blundering into a snake pit, confronted by the cold gaze of a king cobra.

Guan Wen had stared at the black hole for only a few seconds when suddenly his forehead felt as if bitten by a venomous serpent—a sharp pain, and his body flipped backward without warning.

Gu Qingcheng’s reflexes were astonishing; she dove forward, bracing her hands on the ground and catching Guan Wen’s fall with her back.

“What happened?” she asked, helping him up, forgetting her own grazed hands, focused only on his condition.

“I’m fine.” Guan Wen touched his forehead; there was no mark, but the piercing drill-like pain lingered.

He regretted it now—if only he’d studied his surroundings before focusing on the abyss. Too late; the vision in his mind shattered like a sunlit soap bubble, leaving no trace behind.

“As long as you’re alright,” Gu Qingcheng exhaled in relief.

“I actually saw the situation below. I was just one step away from breaking through and achieving insight. Let’s return; perhaps I’ll soon fully comprehend the clues left by our predecessors.” Guan Wen said.

As they left the cave, Guan Wen noticed the blood on Gu Qingcheng’s hands and felt deeply apologetic. “Thank you for saving me just now. I truly don’t know how to thank you.”

She shook her head and smiled. “We’re in this together, so of course we help each other. If you really want to thank me, just stay alive until you help me lure out the Golden Cicada.”

They returned to the broken cliff to rejoin Bao Ling and Tsetan Dajie, recounting what had happened below. When Guan Wen described how Gu Qingcheng had risked herself to save him, both Bao Ling and Gu Qingcheng looked a bit embarrassed.

In such a moment, if Gu Qingcheng had regarded Guan Wen only as bait for the Golden Cicada, she would hardly have acted so selflessly. The subtle feelings between young men and women needed no words. As a famed bounty hunter, Gu Qingcheng was known for her clean, swift work—arriving and leaving like the wind, striking once and vanishing. Why would she risk injury for Guan Wen?

As the only bystander, Gao Xiang simply smiled, saying nothing.

Gu Qingcheng coughed lightly, smiling as she stopped Guan Wen. “When we’re doing something important, there’s no need to fuss over the small things. Instead, let’s focus on what matters.”

“In terms of physics and art,” she continued, “black is defined as the absence of visible light, exactly the opposite of white, which is the presence of all visible wavelengths. If a pigment absorbs all visible light and reflects none, the eye perceives black. If the three primary colors are mixed in the right ratio so that reflected light is minimized, the eye also perceives black. So black can be caused either by lack of light—like the night—or by absorption of all light, as in a black pupil.”

“In the peculiar black hole below the cliff, Guan Wen sensed a multitude of strange things. But once he left, it was as if all was empty, nothing to grasp.”

Maybe I should dwell within the black hole, contemplating the legacy left by the elders of Tashilhunpo Monastery... He tapped his temple lightly, lost in thought. There must be a special mechanism here—once triggered, the black hole would open, leading straight to the deepest place. The wise ones would not have left a door requiring brute force to enter; that would make them no different from mere butchers. So where was the mechanism? Not in the cave?

The sun had already set, and the wind sweeping through the empty valley grew more biting.

To the west, the mountains merged with the encroaching dusk, shapes blurring until only outlines remained.

Suddenly, Bao Ling pointed west and sighed, “Look—what do those four connected peaks resemble?”

Guan Wen roused himself and, following her gesture, saw that among the mountains, four peaks stood apart, forming their own distinct range. Their ridgelines rose steeply, but each summit flattened into a clear platform, like the peaks in a simple sketch. None of the other mountains had such flat tops.

“It’s as if someone pressed the mountain tips flat with their fingers,” Guan Wen replied.

Gu Qingcheng nodded repeatedly. “Yes—it’s strange; I never noticed before.”

“So what do they look like?” Bao Ling asked again.

No one could answer, for mountains and rivers are the work of nature, wondrous and ever-changing. Forcing the shape of a mountain to resemble something was far-fetched and meaningless.

Guan Wen shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Bao Ling sighed deeply. “Don’t you think they look like a key?”

Everyone was stunned, for the shape of the peaks was nothing like a key; it seemed impossible to connect the two.