As dusk approached, the sun sank slowly below the western horizon, and the great forest was about to be swallowed by shadows. This place was once called “Peng Yue (Moon-Holding) Valley” because when the moon rose directly above the valley, lying on your back in the deepest part of the valley and looking up at the sky, it created an illusion. The highest hills on either side appeared like two giant arms reaching for the bright moon. The dead buried here were said to have absorbed the essence of the sun and moon. My ancestral feng shui book has a detailed explanation in the chapter on “Heaven.” Some of the text is hard to understand, but with real-world observation, it’s not too difficult to make educated guesses.
If the Wild Man Valley wasn’t so thickly covered with dead leaves and rotten grass, we could easily find the center. But now, we had to wait for the moon to rise at night to use its position as a reference to search for the ancient tomb in the deepest part of the valley. Our manpower was limited, and we couldn’t afford any mistakes; otherwise, the workload would be overwhelming.
It was still early in the night, so we set up our tent under a large tree on the hillside. We tied our horse to the tree, fed it some hay, and lit a campfire to cook and eat. Tonight’s wild meal was a small deer caught by the hunting dogs. This deer looked strange, with spotted fur, a small size, and an oddly unbalanced body. Its hind legs were unusually thick, and it had big ears but no antlers.
When Yingzi saw the hunting dogs dragging the strange deer, she hurried over to flip it onto its back and inspect its belly. There were fresh bloodstains on the deer’s stomach. Yingzi pried open its mouth, seemingly searching for something. In the end, she found nothing and kicked the deer in frustration, shouting at the big hunting dogs, “You useless beasts! All you do is eat! I can’t rely on any of you. None of you are allowed to eat tonight!”
Fatty, watching from the side, found it odd and asked Yingzi, “Hey, what are you looking for?”
While pulling out a sharp knife to skin the deer, Yingzi replied, “Fatty, you’ve never seen this animal before, have you? This is a musk deer. The male has musk in its belly button, which is really valuable. But these creatures are tricky; as soon as they see someone trying to catch them, they bite off their own belly button and chew it up. If these dogs had been a bit quicker, they could have gotten some musk!”
After hearing this, Fatty sat down against a tree, bent over, and started poking at his own belly.
I looked up at the moon and took out my compass to compare it, scanning both sides of the valley. Finally, I confirmed the location. There might be many ancient tombs in this valley, but the most important one, belonging to a noble, was right beneath our feet.
I marked the spot with a stick and decided to head back for a good night’s sleep. We needed to rest and gather our strength for digging early the next morning. In this deep forest, there were no other people for hundreds of miles, so there was no need to work secretly at night.
As I walked back, I explained some tomb raiding knowledge to Fatty. Since we were in this line of work, it was important to understand these things. We couldn’t just rely on brute strength. I had been sharing this information with him since we entered the mountains.
The earliest recorded tomb raiding incident in China dates back about three thousand years to the Zhou Dynasty, during the time of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors. The Zhou Dynasty was divided into Eastern and Western Zhou, the same dynasty that supported figures like Jiang Ziya in “Fengshen Yanyi.” It lasted over eight hundred years. During that time, there were two major tomb raiding events: one was the tomb of King You of Zhou, and the other was the tomb of King Tang. In King You’s tomb, two naked, lifelike young bodies were found, which scared the tomb raiders away. In King Tang’s tomb, a large turtle shell covered in oracle bone script was unearthed.
Fatty interrupted, “Old Hu, stop with the useless stories. Just tell me if there are ghosts in the tomb. If there are, how do we deal with them? And what was that thing you mentioned last time, ‘ghost blows out the light’? It sounds so creepy!”
Yingzi chimed in, “What ghost blows out the light? Is that the ‘smoke bubble ghost’ we talk about in Northeast China?”
I clarified, “No, it’s not that. It’s a superstition among tomb raiders. It might not be entirely useless. The air quality in tombs can be poor, and if a candle won’t light, anyone who goes in could suffocate. This can be explained scientifically. Besides, how could there be ghosts in an ancient tomb? That’s just superstition. Even if there were, we don’t need to worry. I’ve prepared things like black donkey hooves and sticky rice to ward off evil. In short, when it comes to tomb raiding, don’t believe in the supernatural. If you’re afraid of ghosts, then don’t raid tombs.”
Fatty suddenly understood, “Oh, so you had Yanzi prepare those things to ward off evil! I thought you were just being brave and not afraid of ghosts. By the way, what are the vinegar and birdcage for?”
Just as I was about to answer, we suddenly heard a series of frantic barks from the hunting dogs on the hillside. A chill ran through all three of us as we thought, could it be that some wild beast or wild man was attacking our camp? But we had three giant mastiffs; even a wild animal wouldn’t dare to cause trouble here. What could be making the dogs bark so wildly? We hurried back up the slope.
When we reached the area next to our tent, a gruesome sight met our eyes. The horse tied to the tree had been viciously attacked by some beast. Its belly was torn open, and its intestines spilled out onto the ground. The horse was still alive, convulsing on the ground, but it was clear it wouldn’t last much longer.
The hunting dogs circled around the horse, barking frantically as if they had seen something terrifying. Their barks were filled with anxious agitation.
Normally, horses and dogs are friends, and the horse wouldn’t have been bitten by a dog. What kind of beast could have done this? With three giant mastiffs and five hunting dogs surrounding it, how could they not have caught the attacking creature?
Looking around, there was no sign of any beast. The mountains were eerily quiet, and the night wind rustled the leaves in the trees. Our palms were sweaty as we gripped our hunting rifles.
The horse was foaming at the mouth, blood oozing from its nostrils, and despite its intestines spilling out, it was still struggling to breathe. Yingzi aimed at the horse’s head and fired a shot, ending its suffering.
Suddenly, I noticed the horse’s intestines moving—not from a natural reflex, but as if something was pulling them underground. Something was hiding beneath the horse’s body, tugging at its insides.
I quickly pulled Yingzi back a step. Fatty and Yingzi had seen the same thing, and we exchanged glances, all thinking, “Could it be the work of wild men?”
Being in Wild Man Valley, it was natural to think of wild men, but could they have the strength to tear open a horse’s belly? Perhaps they used a weapon, but if they could make weapons, then they wouldn’t be wild men.
Before we could figure it out, the horse’s intestines were pulled completely beneath its body, obscured from our view.
We needed to move the horse’s body first. I weighed my hunting rifle in my hands. This gun was much more advanced than the one I used over a decade ago in Lama Valley to hunt bears. However, this air rifle had a small caliber, making it difficult to deliver a fatal blow to a large beast. Still, it was better than nothing; it was certainly more effective than a firewood stick.
With a gun and dogs, we felt a bit more secure. The three of us worked together to push the horse’s corpse aside, revealing a deep, bottomless hole in the grass.
The hole was about the width of a small bucket, and it would be difficult for an adult to crawl into it. The horse’s intestines had been dragged into the hole. When we arrived, the hole had been covered by grass, so no one had noticed it. We had tied the horse here because the grass was thick. While we were down in the valley searching for the ancient tomb, whatever was in the hole had suddenly attacked, tearing open the horse’s belly. The hunting dogs, fierce as they were, couldn’t do anything since the horse’s body was blocking the entrance, leaving them barking helplessly.
I shone my flashlight into the hole, but it was dark and deep. My experience as a combat engineer for over three years came in handy now. I examined the marks on the walls of the hole and was almost certain that it wasn’t man-made. It had been dug by some animal with sharp claws, a skilled digger. Otherwise, how could it have torn open the horse’s abdomen so easily? But what kind of animal could it be? Even Yingzi, who knew the forest well, shook her head, having never seen or heard of such a creature.
I suspected there might be other openings nearby. It seemed that while Wild Man Valley appeared calm and beautiful, it was actually fraught with danger. No wonder the group that came to raid tombs here decades ago had vanished without a trace. I couldn’t help but wonder if they had encountered this underground, vicious beast as well.
We decided it was not safe to stay here any longer, so we would act without waiting for dawn. The three of us split into two teams: Fatty and I took five hunting dogs to dig in the valley below, while Yingzi took the three giant mastiffs to search for the creature that had attacked us. No matter how fierce that thing was, it couldn’t be more ferocious than the three mastiffs. Instead of being on the defensive, it was better to take the initiative. If anything happened, we would fire our guns to signal the other team for quick support.
Fatty led the five hunting dogs while I carried the tools. We moved one after the other, following the path we had scouted earlier down to the valley floor.
I took out two entrenching shovels, keeping one for myself and tossing the other to Fatty. “Fatty, work quickly. We shouldn’t dig too deep here. The ancient tomb under the layer of leaves won’t be very deep. The sooner we find the antiques, the better. Then we can leave this cursed place and go home to use the money to help our village build a road.”
Fatty spat on his hands, “Just watch me, your daddy got this.”
With the German-made entrenching shovel flying up and down, each strike turned up a large clump of mud made of dead leaves and branches.
Although there weren’t many trees in Wild Man Valley, the wind would blow leaves from the surrounding mountains into the area, creating a thick layer over the years. We took turns digging and managed to reach a depth of six or seven meters before finally hitting soil. I scooped up a handful; the dirt was fine and granular, with no clumps. I tasted it with my tongue—it was slightly sweet. This was definitely the sealing soil, and the tomb chamber was about four or five meters below.
As we got closer to the tomb chamber, we had to be cautious. Some tombs had anti-theft mechanisms. Unlike the ancient tombs from before the Tang Dynasty, which had traps like falling stones and hidden crossbows, tombs from the Northern Song Dynasty had more sophisticated anti-theft technologies. Especially for noble tombs, they wouldn’t be as grand as imperial tombs, and the manpower involved was limited. However, the treasures inside were still significant; otherwise, they wouldn’t be buried in such a prime feng shui location.
For a late Northern Song Dynasty, Jin tomb like this one, it likely employed the popular anti-theft technique known as the “Tianbao Dragon Fire Glazed Roof.” This structure was very advanced, with a hollow chamber. The ceiling was first covered with a thin layer of glazed tiles, which contained bags of Western Region dragon oil. Another layer of glazed tiles was placed on top, followed by the sealing soil. If any external force entered, the ceiling would break, igniting the dragon oil upon contact with air, incinerating the bones and burial goods inside the tomb, leaving tomb raiders with nothing.
Of course, this was a desperate measure. The tomb owner would rather perish than let their remains be desecrated by grave robbers. Such mechanisms were only popular during the late Northern Song Dynasty and the Jin-Liao period. Later, even more advanced traps replaced the Tianbao Dragon Fire Glazed Roof.
These small traps were no match for me. The biggest weakness of this mechanism was that if we dug from the side, the dragon fire glazed tiles above wouldn’t break. So, once we reached the sealing soil, we began to dig sideways. The two of us worked vigorously, not even feeling tired, and we dug a large pit about six or seven meters deep.
Before we knew it, the sun was already up. Yingzi returned and said she hadn’t found anything nearby. She decided to go hunt in the forest to prepare lunch and would send a dog to call us when the food was ready.
After Yingzi left, Fatty and I continued working. Eventually, we hit a layer of hard soil that was as solid as rock. When the entrenching shovel struck it, only a white mark appeared.
Fatty cursed, “Fxxk, is that cement? If I had known, we should have brought some explosives! How the hell are we supposed to dig through this?”
I replied, “Explosives are for roughnecks. This is a tamped earth layer, and there are mechanisms protecting it. This soil was mixed using a secret recipe from the palace at the time, containing sticky rice juice and even some boy’s urine. It’s tougher than modern concrete. This recipe belonged to the Northern Song Emperor, and after the Jin Dynasty conquered the Northern Song, it was passed down to the Jin nobility.”
I brought over a large bucket of vinegar and had Fatty pour it over the tamped earth layer, one scoop at a time. By the time we finished the bucket, the tomb wall would be significantly corroded. Don’t underestimate vinegar’s corrosiveness; it works wonders on this specially mixed tamped earth. This is what you call using one thing to counter another. When we dug again, it would be as easy as digging through tofu.
Following this method, sure enough, we were about to break into the tomb chamber when suddenly we heard a gunshot from the forest, startling the birds in the trees.
Fatty exclaimed, “That’s Yingzi’s gun!”
I grabbed my entrenching shovel and hunting rifle. “Let’s go check it out.”
Ignoring our fatigue, we sprinted through the layer of fallen leaves, each step sinking into the ground.
We rushed toward the sound deeper into the forest, with the five dogs closely following us. Suddenly, we saw Yingzi running toward us with the three giant mastiffs.
Seeing she was okay, I finally relaxed. “Yingzi, was that you who fired? Did you find something?”
Yingzi’s face was pale, and she was panting heavily. “Oh my god… I was so scared! I found a few huts in that corner, and when I went inside, it was terrifying—there were dead bodies everywhere, all dark and rotten. At first, I didn’t see clearly and thought they were wild men, so I fired a shot. But I didn’t get a good look at whose bodies they were.”
I realized that despite Yingzi’s tough demeanor, she had a weakness—she was terrified of dead bodies, even though she acted fearless in the forest.
However, finding dead bodies and huts in this remote mountain area was already incredible. Since there were huts, it meant someone had lived there. Who were those dead people? Why were they living in this desolate mountain?
We should go take a look; perhaps we could find some clues. I had a vague feeling that they were connected to the group of tomb raiders who had gone missing here before.
Yingzi led us to the huts she had discovered. These huts were very crude, built from a mixture of mud and straw, with a small amount of wood. They were located in the densest part of the forest, blending in with the surroundings, making them hard to spot unless you were close.
We crawled into one of the huts and found several animal skins inside. In the corner, there were indeed three corpses. The bodies had decayed to the point of being black, with almost no muscle left, and their skin was shriveled. Maggots and ants crawled in and out of their eye sockets and nostrils. I thought to myself, could these be the wild men from the legends of Wild Man Valley?
Fatty leaned in for a closer look and said to me, “Old Hu, no wonder we haven’t seen any wild men in Wild Man Valley; it turns out they’ve all died of old age.”
I nodded and replied, “What’s strange is that these wild men had very advanced tools. Look, they’re even wearing clothes. What kind of wild men wear clothes? I feel like I’ve seen these clothes somewhere before.”
The corpses were dressed in woolen coats that had clearly been worn for decades, now tattered and filthy. Yet, the style seemed oddly familiar.
I noticed that on the collar of the innermost corpse, there seemed to be a metallic object. I took it off and wiped away the grime. It looked like a military insignia, but it definitely wasn’t from the Chinese army.
At that moment, Fatty found something too. He pulled out a combat knife from the corner with great effort, and with a “whoosh,” he drew it out. The blade was still in excellent condition, shining brightly even after all these years, indicating that its owner had taken great care of it and likely polished it regularly.
Seeing the knife, I realized, “Damn it, the so-called wild men are actually these Japanese soldiers!”
Fatty was puzzled. “But didn’t the Japanese return home after their defeat? Why didn’t these man leave?”
I said, “That’s not surprising. You know too little about history, which reveals your ignorance. But don’t waste time; let me explain what happened.”
From my understanding, just before Japan’s unconditional surrender, the Soviet mechanized army advanced south, attacking the Kwantung Army stationed in Northeast China. They shattered the so-called elite million-strong Kwantung Army. Some Japanese soldiers were scattered and fled deep into the forest, afraid to come out and losing contact with the outside world. They didn’t know that Japan had already surrendered, so they hid in the forest until they died there. Those who saw these suspicious, paranoid Japanese soldiers, with their clothes long dirty and unshaven from living in the woods, would naturally mistake them for wild men.
I was really just speculating; the true story would remain a mystery unless these Japanese soldiers came back to explain themselves. After I said this, Fatty and Yingzi seemed to understand.
Yingzi remarked, “Those Japanese soldiers must have gotten lost. Even though this is the edge of the forest, to the north is all grassland and muddy swamps. They couldn’t get out that way. To the south is the primeval forest, and without dogs to guide them, even the most experienced hunters wouldn’t be able to find their way out. They really got what they deserved.”
I rummaged through the belongings of the corpses, hoping to find something valuable. Suddenly, I thought about whether the tomb raiders who came here in the late 1940s might have encountered these Japanese soldiers and been killed.
While I was pondering this, I discovered a notebook in a military pack. It was written entirely in Japanese, the pages yellowed with age. The handwriting was still legible, but none of us could read Japanese. Fortunately, there were many Chinese characters in it, though the meanings of the Japanese kanji often differed significantly from their Chinese counterparts, and some even had opposite meanings. Even so, by piecing together the words, we could understand about half of it, and with some subjective interpretation, it roughly conveyed the following:
The main force of the Kwantung Army in Dongning was defeated by the Soviet troops. Major Namiki led the remaining small squad of soldiers (a squad in the Kwantung Army typically consisted of 120 to 200 soldiers) to a secret underground fortress at Black Wind Pass, intending to regroup with the rest of the Kwantung Army and prepare for a final battle against the Soviets, to die for the Emperor. However, just before they arrived, they accidentally stepped into a swamp, and the only soldier who knew the location of the fortress and the guide drowned. The remaining soldiers could never find the entrance to the secret fortress, and when they tried to turn back, they got lost. Without any communication equipment, they had no choice but to stay hidden in the mountains, living there for over thirty years, one by one succumbing to death… The writing abruptly stopped, likely because the author died at that point.
I tossed the notebook aside; I didn’t have time to deal with this junk right now. The tomb wall in the valley was nearly eroded, and we needed to hurry back, grab our things, and leave these Japanese soldiers behind—they were already decaying anyway. Fatty said, “This knife is mine now. I used to have several officer’s knives at home, but they were all confiscated during the Cultural Revolution. I wanted to collect one again.” I advised him, “That’s a controlled weapon; you can’t take it on the train. Wait until we get back to Beijing and check the antique market. I’ll help you find a new one.”