When Liu Qi first met that man, he hadn't exactly meant well. Back then, in remote areas with no oversight, people usually encountered one another with mutual suspicion—rarely did they become close friends. It was typically one person extracting from the other, calculating and scheming, while the weaker one was consumed by the stronger, until eventually, the world of the journey faded into obscurity. That man had curly hair, wore a white thread-wrapped frame glasses, carried only notebooks and pens in his sack, along with baked flatbread and salted vegetables. He spoke in a refined, formal manner, always appearing humble and plain—calling himself a "mystic" and aspiring to become the world's foremost chronicler of the strange and extraordinary, traveling throughout the south and north of China, visiting all kinds of remarkable people and events. He had just arrived in Qinghai, claiming he was searching for a village, only to find himself accidentally veering off course, passing through the Altun Mountains and ending up in the Kumingtage Desert. This must have been a case of mental confusion. Moved by compassion, Liu Qi let the man go without further ado. The mystic remained completely unaware that he had narrowly escaped disaster, and happily joined in Thus, the two traveled northward from Kumtag, eventually entering the Lop Desert, where they parted ways in the Hami basin. At that time, it was still possible to encounter local villages within the Lop Desert—neither tourist-style settlements with ticketed services, nor temporary encampments, but real communities with residents scattered around saline wells and intermittent watercourses, gradually becoming more sparse and partially abandoned. The population was small; the largest village housed only two families, mostly elderly people who cherished tradition and refused to relocate, and hunters. Younger generations, unable to bear the hardships, had all migrated elsewhere. Liu Qi, who rarely interacted with people, would simply leave his belongings and head off in search of snakes. In contrast, the folk healer carried his notebook under his arm, a pen in his ear, and with a warm smile, actively sought out elders to gather stories. The local dialect was difficult to understand, and the older residents often spoke unclearly—yet Liu Qi remained puzzled as to how the healer managed to meticulously record entire pages each time. When asked what stories he had recorded, the healer replied: "Strange and unusual tales." Well, those with money can eat meat, drink wine, and enjoy the company of young ladies; those without money just have to sleep on the sand and listen to stories—though the long nights may not be entirely dull. So every evening before bedtime, Liu Qi would urge the soothsayer to tell a story—this soothsayer also enjoyed it immensely, and whenever he was asked to "consult," he would be delighted, speaking without pause. That night, Liu Qi remembered clearly: his snake pole had snapped, and he was wrapping it with white tape. The soothsayer approached him mysteriously and said, "Liu Liu, I’d like to tell you a story." Some people simply can’t be given the benefit of the doubt—once they were politely addressing him as "Liu Friend," now they call him "Liu Liu," sounding almost like a wine companion. Liu Qi wanted to get annoyed, but then thought, well, what’s the point in arguing with a neurotic, especially when he’s still telling stories. —"Do you know Emperor Wu of Han?" the soothsayer asked. "Liu Qi replied, "How could I not know? I’m from Zhangye, after all Zhangye used to have a different name. After Emperor Wu of Han launched campaigns against the Xiongnu, established control over the Western Regions, and set up the four commanderies in the Hexi Corridor, he felt that his achievements in "strengthening the arms of the nation and supporting its flank (yè)" were significant, and thus named the commandery Zhangye. The "magnificent" person was delighted: "I knew that! Knowing it, there's no need for me to introduce myself as background." "Speaking of Emperor Wu's efforts in opening up the Western Regions, it became quite lively—caravans and trading teams came and went without cease. Every day, as soon as the gates opened, fresh groups arrived. It was simply because the nation had grown strong." Liu Qi said: "Indeed. By the Tang Dynasty, it had even become even stronger." The "magnificent" person lowered his voice: "But there was a legend that emerged—some people claimed that among these caravans, there was a ghost caravan." Liu Qi glanced around, noticing the dark, empty stretches of the Gobi Desert, and found it a bit eerie to speak of ghosts so late at Other caravans, fearing bandits along the route, always form groups with other merchants—this one never does. It travels alone, spending generously, always in gold and jade. After entering the pass, it doesn't indulge in feasting and drinking; outside of buying goods, it spends its time indoors. Once its business is complete, it quietly departs without a word. "That's what they call the 'ghost caravan,' isn't it?" said Liu Qi. "Maybe they're just naturally reserved." The sage gave him a withering look. "I haven't finished yet." "This story of the ghost caravan has been passed down for more than a century, with only slight variations. It was most popular during the Han and Tang dynasties, when trade in the Hexi Corridor flourished. After the Ming dynasty adopted a policy of isolation, and as the economic center gradually shifted east and south, the region gradually fell out of focus." The sage sighed deeply. "Back then, the capital was always Chang'an—how could the Hexi Corridor not have thrived?" "A merchant boss would often ask them where they came from, and each time, the answer would differ—sometimes it was Daxian, sometimes Usun, sometimes Persia... Yet back then, with limited information, even if you said you were from New York, the boss wouldn't know exactly which part. Of course, that wasn't surprising—perhaps the visitors simply valued privacy and weren't eager to share personal details. What was strange, however, was that after repeated encounters, some of the more distant trading caravans began to question: they had only seen these caravans near the Yangmen Pass and the Baidongdui region, and never encountered them further west. Thus, a rumor grew that there was a mysterious 'gate of the underworld' somewhere in that area—through which the caravans emerged. I understand now—the Yangmen Pass was the northern route of the Silk Road, and the Baidongdui was merely a perilous stretch along the way, not even suitable for resting. Once the caravans entered this region, they simply vanished—this certainly made people wonder. Li Qi asked, 'Are they really ghosts?' The expert said, 'More complex than ghosts. It's said that those "There was once a time when the weather was bad—blustery winds and sandstorms during the day. Normally, under such conditions, the camels would kneel down, and people would shelter behind them. But one caravan of Hu merchants, eager to make progress, kept pushing straight into the wind. On the way, they encountered this group of nine camel caravans and found only the camels lying on the ground, with no people visible." Liu Qi pursed her lips. "Then the Hu merchants took the camels?" The God of Magic nodded. "The merchants had ulterior motives—they went to pull the camels away. In the process, they noticed fabric flaps peeking out from beneath the camels. The merchants thought people must be underneath, surely suffocating or crushed. But when they reached out to touch... how to describe it? The fabric felt flat and rigid, like it was wrapped in a hard cardboard sheet. When they shook it and turned it over, what they found inside was a human figure carved from cowhide! If it were just a dummy, that would have been acceptable. But reportedly, after the cowhide figures were turned over, their eyes—set in the sockets—began to roll suddenly, their The group of Hu merchants was so terrified that they ran in all directions, scattering amidst the wind and sand. Some lost their way, and one man, dizzy and disoriented, could no longer tell east from west. After the wind and sand subsided, he found himself miraculously back at his original spot. He observed that the camels were now each carrying riders, who were calling out and preparing to set off, dressed exactly as the earlier figures made of leather had been. Without knowing why, this man quietly followed them. Soon it grew dark. A strong wind and sand began to blow, blinding people. As he followed, he suddenly felt a deep chill. Before his very eyes, the long line of nine camel caravans vanished entirely. Liu Qi felt a shiver run up his arms at this final remark. He urged the spirit-medium, "Then what?" "What sayings there are! They claim there's an invisible entrance leading to an ancient city covered in gold and jade, yet producing nothing of use—so how could the camel caravans possibly keep coming out to buy supplies?" Someone else claims that the ancient city was built by Emperor Wu of Han—he didn’t meet the Western Queen, the Queen of the West, after all? Didn’t he already know that the Han dynasty would eventually perish, so he hurriedly transported his valuable assets out, intending to leave them for his descendants to rise anew? The so-called sage of miracles beamed with enthusiasm: "Isn't this fascinating? The folk legends of ancient China are truly a treasure trove of literature, isn’t that right? You know, should I write a whole book just dedicated to these legends when I publish my next work?" Li Qi remained silent. He himself felt that there might indeed be a treasure—though not the literary treasure the sage was describing. —Chang Dong listened quietly and offered no comment: "Stories like these, you can enjoy them as entertainment—yet you actually believe them, Master Li?" The tea had grown cold. Li Qi waved his hand to his attendant, signaling for a fresh cup. "I used to doubt it. Over the years, I’d almost forgotten. It wasn’t until Gray Eight’s incident that I suddenly remembered—Huo Ya told me that when the shadow coffin was opened, you counted the layers and found there "This one's not going to fall off—we're stuck with it, Chang Dong agrees. Liu Qi sighs, "Look at this—how interesting. I've been involved with this matter since over a decade ago. If I'd still thought of it just as a story, wouldn't that have been a bit slow on the uptake?" Chang Dong says, "All this effort—pulling people in, making calls, bringing us here—surely it's not just to tell a story. So, Seventh Uncle, let's leave both sides with a gap for now. What you have in mind, just lay it out plainly. I'll weigh it, see what's feasible. If we can make it work, we'll become friends. If not, we'll follow the rules—host a banquet, arrange mediation, or simply set boundaries. What do you think?" Fei Tang, listening from the side, only half understands, but senses the moment has arrived and his heart pounds with anticipation. Meanwhile, Ye Liuxi listens intently, showing no sign of helping him with his injuries—seems she's no longer able to assist. He opens his medicine box, tears off a piece of alcohol gauze, and attends to himself. Li Qi chuckled, and his voice, already difficult to hear, now sounded like a grating of a pot being scraped with a saw, a donkey groaning—Ye Liuxi could not help but furrow his brows. "We have to take care of Gui Ba's body. To make a name in this world, one must uphold integrity. And if there's something truly valuable, I'll have a share too." Chang Dong remained composed. "Then no one's stopping Master Qi. After all, the Ha Luo Highway runs on, and my vehicle tracks still mark the way through Bai Long Dui. If Master Qi ever gets lost, I can even draw him a map." Li Qi waved his hand. "I've lived this long, and my mind is clear. My body, however, isn't built for constant travel and physical exertion. Moreover…" he added with a subtle implication, "I believe not just any ordinary person would have the chance to see the shadow coffin." Chang Dong said, "That will disappoint Master Qi. Honestly, we stumbled upon the shadow coffin by chance. It vanished along with Gui Ba's body—something we found quite strange ourselves." Li Qi cleared his throat and reached into his old Chang Dong tightened his gaze briefly, then relaxed it. It was the notebook he had left in the room. His voice was restrained and calm. "Seventh Brother, isn't this a bit unseemly?" Li Qi apologized sincerely. "I'm truly sorry. It's just a habit—I like to get to know people well. But this has certainly taught both of you a lesson: be more careful, don't leave opportunities for others to take advantage." Ye Liuxi coldly added, "My room was also searched?" Li Qi reached again into his cotton coat. "Miss Ye's belongings, too, are quite interesting." What emerged was none other than the jade pendant shaped like a beast's head. Fei Tang was absolutely tense, his head buzzing with noise. He stared at Ye Liuxi, whose gaze grew increasingly fierce, and hurriedly swallowed several mouthfuls of water, convinced that she could twist Li Qi's neck right then and there. She approached, took the faun-carved jasper from the table, blew on it, then wiped it gently on her dress, and smiled at Liu Qi: "I simply enjoy spending other people's money to make my own things happen."