After reading several times, we found nothing. The prophet’s corpse had no symbols, drawings, or writings. Fatty, impatient, began to search through the prophet’s remains but still found nothing.
The prophet’s remains were seated, legs crossed, one hand resting beside the stone box, the other flat on his knee. There were no gestures or signs, and apart from the decayed clothing that had turned to dust, he was wrapped in a sheepskin, with nothing else.
I searched the surroundings for any hidden mechanisms or secret passages. However, this tomb was carved out of a stone mountain, with solid rock walls. There were a few small cracks in some places, and I could feel a slight cool breeze, indicating that the tomb was not far from the mountain’s peak. But without explosives or tools, trying to carve an escape route through the rock was nearly impossible.
The only entrance to this tomb was the crack we had come through. There used to be a stone door there, but we hadn’t looked closely at the outer passage while dodging falling debris. The cracks in the mountain had merged our escape route with the tomb passage, but that path was now blocked by rubbles, making it impossible to return and find a way out.
The three of us were anxiously pacing when suddenly the ground shook, and we heard faint cracking sounds coming from the mountain. The noise grew louder, and the tremors intensified. It seemed that the internal pressure from the previous explosions was building up, and after two significant cracks, a third one was imminent. Could the prophet’s revelation be linked to this?
With a strong tremor, the tomb cracked open, creating three large fissures—one on the ground and two on either side of the tomb, wide enough for a person to pass through.
Fatty cursed, “Damn it, we have to choose one! This little prophet is playing with us. Let’s split up; at least one of us can escape instead of all being buried here.”
Shirley Yang pointed at the prophet’s remains and said, “The prophet has shown us the way!” Her voice trembled with excitement.
Fatty and I looked down to see that the fissures in the ground had caused the stone box to sink halfway, and the prophet’s remains were tilted, with his right finger pointing directly at the large crack on the left side of the tomb.
We quickly knelt and bowed our heads, thanking the prophet for his guidance. At that moment, the falling debris from above grew larger, and the rumbling sound was relentless; it was becoming impossible to stand in the tomb.
I told Fatty to carry Professor Chen, while Shirley Yang and I lifted Ye Yixin’s body. We squeezed through the crack on the left side of the tomb. After a few steps, a bright light dazzled us, and we saw the long-lost sky above.
We were only a few meters from the mountain’s peak, but the tremors were severe, causing cracks to form in the rocks. The ground was littered with debris, making every step a challenge.
Fatty crouched down, and Shirley Yang climbed onto his shoulders, then helped Professor Chen up as well.
I instructed Fatty to go up first and then throw down a rope to pull Ye Yixin’s body up. I couldn’t just leave her buried in the mountain. Fatty struggled to climb, and I supported him from below while Shirley Yang pulled from above. It took a lot of effort, but we finally made it.
Just then, a loud crash echoed from the stone wall behind me, startling me. I turned to see the mountain collapsing behind us. The entire Mount Zagalama was splitting in two, and the massive arch of the Ghost Cave was unable to withstand the pressure, continuously crumbling and sending the queen’s coffin, along with the Cropse Flower and countless treasures, into the bottomless Ghost Cave. Black water was flowing out of the cave, quickly engulfing everything that fell in. The dark mountain and the pitch-black cave made it feel like the earth was opening its mouth to swallow everything inside.
The power of the landslide was dizzying. I clung tightly to the rock wall with one hand while holding Ye Yixin’s body with the other, afraid to move, lest I too fall into the Ghost Cave.
Fatty shouted from above, “Old Hu, hurry up! Forget about that girl’s body; we can’t worry about the dead right now!”
I wanted to bring Ye Yixin’s body with me, but my left arm was growing numb from holding her. If I didn’t let go, I would fall with her. Reluctantly, I released my grip, but unexpectedly, her arm snagged on my backpack. The weight of her body pulled the bag open, and the prophet’s sheepskin scroll tumbled out, rolling down with Ye Yixin’s body.
I watched helplessly as the sheepskin scroll fell down the mountain, filled with regret. The prophet’s prophecy was clear: when the sheepskin scroll hit the ground, a sandstorm would engulf Mount Zagalama. Just as I feared, it was happening.
At this point, I had no choice but to climb to the top. Suddenly, I heard a sorrowful voice crying in my ear, sounding just like Ye Yixin. My body felt heavy, as if something was pulling me down, trying to drag me into the abyss.
My hair stood on end. The sun in the desert had already dipped halfway below the horizon, and I was in the shadow of the mountain, surrounded by dark stones. At that moment, it felt like I was touching the gates of hell.
I struggled to climb to the top, but the rocks beneath me had crumbled. I could only cling tightly to the mountain with my hands, unable to look back. Even if I could, I didn’t want to; I feared that if I looked back, I might lose my grip and fall into the Ghost Cave below.
I tried hard to ignore the crying, but the sound grew more sorrowful, piercing my heart and making my body feel even heavier. I couldn’t help but want to let go.
Fatty and Shirley Yang noticed I was acting strangely at the top and tried to reach down to pull me up, but they were too far away. As the cracks in the mountain widened, it was clear the whole mountain would collapse at any moment. With no rope at hand, they had to take off their belts and lower them down.
When they called out to me, it felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over me on a hot summer day. I jolted awake, the crying ceased, and the pulling force behind me vanished. I quickly grabbed Fatty’s belt and climbed up to the top.
The setting sun in the desert had become hazy, and a gust of wind carrying fine sand swept through, casting an ominous shadow over the land. Old An Liman had once said that this kind of wind was a sign of an impending black sandstorm. The prophecy of Mount Zagalama’s doom was finally coming true.
Fatty and I helped Professor Chen, who had become unresponsive, like a puppet being dragged along. He didn’t seem to tire, but we couldn’t stop; if we did, he would just sit down and we wouldn’t be able to lift him again.
We dragged him down the mountain, heading toward the entrance of the valley leading to the ancient city of Jingjue. The side of the mountain near the city had completely collapsed, sealing the entrance to the Ghost Cave forever. We had planned to cross the valley and meet up with An Liman’s caravan, but with the sandstorm already starting, we couldn’t escape without camels.
As soon as we reached the bottom, we heard the sound of hooves in the valley. Old An Liman looked panicked, shouting loudly to drive the camels out.
Fatty cursed, “Old man, your vows are worthless!”
An Liman was surprised to see us at the valley entrance and quickly said, “Praise Allah! It seems this is all Khuda’s arrangement.”
We didn’t have time to chat. We lifted Professor Chen onto a camel and each found one for ourselves. An Liman was still asking about the others.
I said, “Don’t mention it; they’re all gone. This isn’t the time to talk about that. We need to get away from the sandstorm!”
The sky had completely darkened, and a whirlwind was forming. The eye of the storm seemed to be the Ghost Cave, and the wind was picking up strength, stinging our faces with sand. An Liman hadn’t expected the sandstorm to arrive so quickly; there had been no warning. With only the ruins of Mount Zagalama and the ancient city around us, there was nowhere to hide. But since it was a whirlwind, the farther we were from the eye, the safer we would be. We just had to keep running in the right direction and hope for Khuda’s mercy.
An Liman let out a long whistle and led the caravan westward.
At first, we heard strange sounds behind us, like wailing ghosts or crashing waves. Suddenly, a fierce wind swept in, carrying sand and dust, reducing visibility to almost nothing. Even with our headscarves covering our mouths, we felt countless grains of sand filling our ears and noses.
After running for a while, the camels began to panic and wouldn’t listen to commands. An Liman ordered the caravan to stop. At this point, no one could hear anything. He made a few gestures, gathering the frightened camels into a circle.
I understood that if we kept running, the caravan would scatter, and if that happened, no one would survive. We had no choice but to build a sand barrier right there, hiding among the camels. All we could do was pray to Khuda for our safety.
I nodded in understanding and asked Shirley Yang to wrap Professor Chen in a blanket to shield him from the sandstorm.
Fatty and I worked tirelessly to shovel away the sand, and Old An Liman joined us after securing the camels. Together, we built a makeshift sand barrier around the camels and covered their eyes with blankets to prevent them from panicking and running away. Everyone wrapped themselves in blankets and huddled together.
Fortunately, we had moved away from the eye of the storm. The winds and sand at the storm’s edge were fierce, and being in the center could have torn us apart.
The camels, being experienced, calmed down as they gathered together. When some sand covered them, they would shake it off and shift slightly, ensuring they wouldn’t be completely buried.
It wasn’t until the next morning that the winds and sand began to subside. We had spent the night digging the sand barrier and were utterly exhausted. Once the storm had passed, we dared to stand up and look around. The landscape was now a series of undulating sand dunes, with the yellow sand sculpted into solid waves by the wind.
The ancient city of Jingjue, the black Mount Zagalama, the queen’s coffin, the Cropse Flower, and the graves of the prophet and the saints, along with countless unknown secrets, as well as Hao Aiguo, Ye Yixin, Chu Jian, and Sa Dipeng, were all forever buried beneath the yellow sands.
Professor Chen poked his head out from the blanket, looking up at the sky with a silly grin. Shirley Yang brushed the sand off his head. Old An Liman knelt on the ground, praying and thanking Khuda for his mercy. Fatty rummaged through our bags for water but found nothing. He shrugged at me, a look of helplessness on his face.
I shook my head in frustration. In our rush to escape, I hadn’t thought about water, and we had crossed the safe return point seven days ago. Going back was not an option. The passage to the Zidu Dark River was completely buried, and with just the three of us, it was impossible to dig it out. Without a drop of water, we wouldn’t last a day in the desert. Drinking salty water or camel blood wasn’t a solution either. The thought of dying of thirst in the desert felt worse than dying in the Ghost Cave.
In the desert without water was like a living person being drained of blood. We all sat there, lost in despair.
Suddenly, An Liman let out a loud shout, “The messenger of Khuda!” I looked up to see a white figure on a sand slope not far from us. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me due to thirst and hunger, so I rubbed my eyes to see better.
It was the white camel we had seen before arriving at Xiye City, leisurely walking across the dunes, heading west.
Old An Liman was incredibly excited, stumbling over his words. The appearance of the white camel in the cursed black desert meant that the ancient curse had lifted, and Khuda had reclaimed this land. Following the messenger of Khuda, we would surely find water.
I didn’t know if what he said was true. Last time, he mentioned that travelers who saw the white camel would have a safe and auspicious journey. Now he was saying the curse had disappeared. But at this moment, it was better to believe than not to believe. Following the white camel might indeed lead us to water.
We quickly organized the camels and followed the white camel. It walked slowly under the blazing sun for three or four hours, then turned around a long sand ridge, and sure enough, we found a small puddle of water.
Surrounded by some sandthorn, the water wasn’t very clear and likely contained some minerals. Animals could drink it directly, but it wasn’t safe for humans.
The camels rushed to drink, and Shirley Yang found some purification tablets. She filtered the water through a filter and added the tablets before distributing it to everyone.
This puddle might be a tributary of the Zidu Dark River, with the nighttime movement of the desert causing some of the water to seep out closer to the surface.
We built a fire by the puddle and roasted some flatbreads to eat. I didn’t mention the strange sensation I felt when I reached the top of the mountain, as if someone was pulling at me. It was hard to distinguish between reality and illusion, especially after the torment of the Cropse Flower. The line between what was real and what was not had blurred.
Fatty and I discussed our experiences on Mount Zagalama, which felt like a suffocating nightmare. Fatty said, “That Cropse Flower is something else. Maybe we never even entered the ancient city of Jingjue; everything we saw was just an illusion created by that cursed flower.”
Shirley Yang, who had been mostly silent, interjected, “No, now that we’ve escaped danger and can think back, the characteristics of the Cropse Flower’s illusions are quite clear. It can only use memories that already exist in our minds; it cannot create things we’ve never seen before. The queen’s coffin, the Ghost Cave, the prophet’s tomb, and the prophecies—they all exist in reality. We’ve seen the black snake before, and the prophecy stone paintings that led us to turn against each other. The first layer of the stone box was real, and because we had seen the first layer’s prophecy, the Cropse Flower could create illusions on the second layer.”
I replied to Shirley Yang, “I completely agree with you. I thought the same thing but didn’t dare to say it out loud. Should we discuss how to get out of the desert now?”
Shirley Yang said, “That would require the expertise of Old An Liman. He’s like a living map of the desert, so let’s hear his opinion.”
Seeing that the boss had spoken, An Liman drew a few lines in the sand. He indicated our current position, explaining that to the south lay the ruins of Niya, which were far away and surrounded by desert. Even with enough water, we might not reach Niya. To the east was Lop Nur, with desert in between and an endless Gobi on the other side. To the north was the direction we had come from, toward Xiye City, but since we had ventured deep into the desert, returning wouldn’t be easy.
It seemed that traveling south, east, or north would all be difficult. The only remaining option was west, where the Tarim River lay—the largest inland river in the desert. From our current position, if we moved quickly, we could reach the confluence of the Tarim River, Yarkand River, and Hotan River in about ten days. Once there, we could replenish our water supply and continue west for another six or seven days, bringing us close to Aksu, where there were military forces and oil fields that could provide assistance.
We were filled with currently in desperate need of water, almost for about ten days usage, and we still had some food. In the desert, water is more important than food; if we ran out of provisions, we could always resort to eating camel meat.
We spent an entire day filtering and storing the water from the puddle, and only then did we set off according to our plan. The journey was filled with hunger and thirst, and we endured the harsh winds and sun, traveling by day and night. Finally, on the twelfth day, we reached the Tarim River. We continued westward and, on the third day, encountered oil workers hunting for wild sheep in the desert. At that point, Professor Chen was barely clinging to life.
The feeling of escaping from the depths of the desert, step by step, is something that those living in normal environments can hardly comprehend. Since then, I developed a habit of drinking water at home; no matter how large the cup, I always drink it in one go until it’s empty.
(The fate of Professor Chen, the true secrets hidden in the bottomless Ghost Cave, the whereabouts of the Saint Tribe, the mystery of Shirley Yang’s origins, and the new adventures of Hu Bayi and Fatty will continue to unfold in the second part of “Ghost Blows Out the Light,” titled “Longling Mysterious Cave…”)