Unrolling the ancient scroll, the group was stunned. Almost all the major ancient tombs across China were marked with unique symbols. A vivid red cross was prominently marked on the area of the ancient Guge Kingdom in Tibet—the very place that had haunted Big Cricket with regret for the rest of his life.
The ancient Guge Kingdom emerged around the 10th century, founded by Gyedainima Gön, a grandson of the last Tibetan emperor Langdarma of the Tubo Dynasty, after the dynasty’s collapse. Escaping westward to Ali with his followers, he established this kingdom.
From the mid-10th century to the early 17th century, the Guge Kingdom thrived in western Tibet, promoting Buddhism and resisting foreign invasions, playing a significant role in Tibet’s history after the Tubo Dynasty. The Guge civilization, which flourished for seven centuries, vanished mysteriously. According to legend, in 1630, the neighboring Ladakh people, related to Guge by blood, launched an invasion, leading to the kingdom’s downfall. Along with its collapse disappeared countless treasures and many ancient secrets.
According to Vander Biao’s later recollection, Big Cricket had solemnly stated before his death that the red cross marked the location of the ruined and mysterious Guge Kingdom. Originally, six “Money-Digging Marshals” had braved starvation, thirst, and burial under desert sands to enter that ancient city. Unfortunately, five of the six perished, and the sole survivor returned home mentally shattered. Many tomb raiders had sought out this elder tomb raider, known as Master Jia, but either they couldn’t find him—like searching for a needle in a haystack—or, if they did, they left disheartened, for Master Jia had long since gone mad, unable to remember anything!
With no choice, Big Cricket simply marked a rough spot on the human-skin map, recalling the existence of this ancient city. Unfortunately, Big Cricket died too, leaving the tomb raiding team one member short. If only Elder Jia could lead the way through the vast desert highlands, they could avoid many detours and reduce unnecessary sacrifices.
Moreover, the Money-Digging Marshals usually operated alone, unlike the Mountain-Shifting and Hill-Removing sects. After returning, Elder Jia had lived in seclusion ever since. Finding him was like searching for a needle in a haystack—and even if they did, what good would it do? He was already insane.
Yet Vander Biao refused to give up. He insisted that Big Cricket must have spoken with Elder Jia years ago, otherwise he wouldn’t have randomly marked that red cross on the map. There must have been a reason behind it. But now, with Big Cricket gone, the truth had died with him.
“We must find Elder Jia,” Vander Biao said, looking at the others. “We have to get something out of him, or else not only will Mr. Wang’s life be in danger, but we’ll all be in trouble too!”
“But Vander,” Liu Dashao said with a bitter smile, “how are we supposed to find him? We can’t exactly knock on every door in the country!”
“It’s not hard to find him. When the boss was alive, he once listed the top tomb raiders with me, and mentioned him. Luckily, I asked where he lived, or else we’d have had a much harder time.”
After speaking, Vander narrowed his eyes. “If Elder Jia wasn’t crazy, he’d be among the top three tomb raiders in the country, if not number one.”
“If we could just cure his madness, even if he wouldn’t accompany us, he could at least help us map out the route,” said Cai Qingchong, echoing the sentiment.
A man driven mad must have suffered an extreme trauma. What exactly did Elder Jia and his five companions see that night? No one would ever know.
“I might have an idea,” Liu Dashao finally said, breaking the group’s silence and offering a solution.
He whispered something secretly into the others’ ears, and they all nodded in agreement.
After discussing briefly, they decided on a plan. While the others stayed to prepare, Liu Dashao and Vander Biao set off directly for Elder Jia’s home.
Elder Jia lived in the Qinling Mountains, a place teeming with ancient tombs. Sometimes villagers would dig in their fields and unearth antiques—like oil in Saudi Arabia, where a single dig could strike a gusher. Growing up in such a place, Jia had been immersed in tombs from an early age, eventually joining the Money-Digging sect.
When they reached the village, people referred to him as “Mad Jia.” Everyone knew him. When asked further, villagers said vaguely that he had been gone for a long time, leaving to “make big money.” No one could remember exactly when he left. They said he returned mentally broken after some unknown trauma.
Thankfully, he had gone mad only after returning home; otherwise, his family might never have known what happened to him.
Liu Dashao and Vander Biao exchanged a glance, their hearts pounding with excitement. This “Mad Jia” was almost certainly the master they sought.
After wandering through the village, they finally found him at the eastern edge. An old woman sat on the doorstep feeding an elderly man. His hair was disheveled, his eyes vacant.
“Come on, open your mouth!” she coaxed him like a child. Mad Jia didn’t respond, continuing to stare blankly into space.
“Are you scared it’s hot? Here, I’ll blow on it for you,” she said gently, blowing on the food. “Open up! How can you eat if you don’t open your mouth? You don’t even know when you’re hungry—you’re just trying to make me worry!”
Seeing this scene, Liu Dashao and Vander Biao felt a pang of pity. Who would have thought this once-formidable tomb raider had fallen so far? The rumors were true—Elder Jia was indeed mad, and severely so.
Their spirits sank, suddenly doubting whether this journey had been worthwhile. Even if they had come, what useful information could they possibly extract? But Liu Dashao grinned and said, “We haven’t even used our secret weapon yet. How can we say he can’t be cured?”
When the old woman saw the two strangers, her face darkened. “You’re here for my old Jia, aren’t you? It’s no use. He’s like this now. He’s long retired from your trade. You should leave early—stay too late, and you might not make it out of these mountains alive, with the wild beasts around!”
Now they understood: many tomb raiders had come before, hoping to extract information about the ancient city from Elder Jia. But obviously, they had all left disappointed, for Jia could barely eat without help—let alone recall details of a lost city like Jingjue.
“We actually came to treat Elder Jia,” Liu Dashao quickly explained.
“You know medicine?” she asked skeptically.
“Daoism and medicine share the same roots. My master is the Celestial Master of Dragon-Tiger Mountain. Though I’m not a professional healer, I’ve learned a few techniques from him. Upon hearing that Elder Jia had gone mad, I couldn’t bear to see a Money-Digging Marshal—ah, I mean, a normal person—waste away like this. Even if we’re not of the same sect, it’s a Taoist’s duty to help those in need!”
After Liu’s eloquent explanation, the old woman’s doubts eased.
But with her present, the two couldn’t proceed. They told her, “This treatment requires privacy. If someone is nearby, it won’t work!”
She eyed them suspiciously but, for her husband’s sake, agreed to step away.
She nodded. “Well, you’re guests. Don’t leave at noon—there’s not much to offer, but please stay for lunch.”
Once she left, Vander Biao drew a small, golden knife from his waist and waved it in front of Mad Jia. The madman’s eyes suddenly flickered with life, his pupils turning as he reached out to grab it.
Vander Biao didn’t pull away—he simply handed it over.
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