Chapter 15: Fang Qianqi, the Mountain King of Asia

The *Geographical Treatise* in the *Book of Sui* records: On the fifth day of the fifth lunar month, one gathers a hundred kinds of insects—some as large as snakes, others as small as lice—and places them together in a container to let them devour each other. The surviving species are kept; if snakes survive, it is called “snake gu,” and if lice survive, “lice gu.” These poisons are then used to kill people, entering their bodies through ingestion to consume their five internal organs. Upon death, the offspring transfer to the home of the gu master.

The vessel of the myriad gu insects, known in ancient Chinese texts variously as the “container of ten thousand gu,” “nest of ten thousand gu,” or “basin of ten thousand gu,” traces its origins to the infamous bronze basin invented by the tyrannical King Zhou of Shang, a symbol of cruelty without restraint.

“You’re just exhausted; that’s why your mind is filled with such strange thoughts. Those complex matters concerning gu insects are naturally handled by the He family of the Five Poisons Sect,” Ding Jun replied.

He deliberately downplayed Fang Qing’s worries, not wanting her to sink deeper into anxiety. There were many oddities surrounding Si Qin, but to protect the unborn child, the mother’s safety must come first—Si Qin must not be allowed to suffer any misfortune.

“Alright, I hope you’re right,” Fang Qing nodded helplessly.

Ding Jun gazed into the dusk at Tolin Monastery. The Jiasa Hall stood proudly, dwarfing the surrounding earth pillars.

He knew that the great hall was divided into inner and outer circles. The inner circle included the central hall and four smaller halls. The central hall was square-shaped, housing the main altar and the statue of the Tathagata Buddha, surrounded by corridors connecting to the four subsidiary halls. The outer circle contained sixteen halls with a circumambulation path at its center. At the four corners stood four thirteen-meter-high red brick towers, with the Tibetan scripture repository, Pingcuo Jeb, situated beside the northwest tower.

In Tibetan history, Tolin Monastery holds a pivotal position. It was founded in the early 11th century by Yixi Wo, eldest son of the first king of the ancient Guge Kingdom, Dezugu Gun, as a place for the prominent translator Renqin Sangbu (958–1055) during the post-proliferation period of Vajrayana Buddhism to translate scriptures and teach disciples. In 1036, King Wode of Guge and his brother Jiangquwo invited the great master Atisha (982–1054), former abbot of Nalanda and Choyang Monasteries in India, to Tibet. Atisha resided at Tolin Monastery, delivering lectures and writing, spreading Buddhist teachings, which prompted the monastery’s expansion.

In 1076, the Fire Dragon Year in the Tibetan calendar, with royal support from King Zande of Guge, a grand Buddhist assembly was held at Tolin Monastery. Eminent monks from Wei, Tibet, and Kham attended, marking a significant event known as the Fire Dragon Year Assembly, or “Bingchen Dharma Assembly” in Chinese historical texts, becoming a major Buddhist event.

Atisha’s residence and the grand assembly brought Tolin Monastery renown throughout Tibet, establishing it as a distinguished medieval Buddhist temple.

To be able to practice Vajrayana under eminent gurus at this monastery, Fang Qing’s background was undoubtedly extraordinary.

From the shape of the two short guns, Ding Jun recalled a notable figure living in Nepal. This person led a reclusive life, rarely contacting outsiders, yet his legendary tales continued to circulate, revered as an idol by the younger generation.

“What are you thinking about? Why are you staring at those two guns?” Fang Qing asked softly.

Ding Jun smiled: “If I’m not mistaken, these guns once belonged to the ranger known as ‘The Eagle of Asia,’ Luo Kai. The obsidian embedded is a unique stone he obtained from three hundred meters beneath the Antarctic permafrost. Its composition differs markedly from other obsidian on Earth, with its entire volume roughly the size of an adult’s fist. Once, an Arab billionaire offered fifty million pounds to purchase this gem but was flatly refused. Unexpectedly, years later, it was dissected and used as decoration on your short guns.”

Fang Qing handed the guns to Ding Jun with ease: “Just some trivial items. Please have a look, Mr. Ding.”

The legendary exploits of Luo Kai, the Eagle of Asia, were thoroughly documented by a certain Hong Kong novelist and published, becoming a classic cherished by Chinese readers. Stroking the obsidian gun handle, Ding Jun couldn’t help but recall the free-soaring eagle of the Asian skies.

Once, Luo Kai had been Ding Jun’s foremost idol, worthy of utmost admiration.

“My elder brother happens to have some acquaintance with Mr. Luo Kai, so he gifted me the obsidian as an eighteenth-birthday present,” Fang Qing added.

“Your brother must be ‘The Mountain King of Asia,’ Fang Qianqi?” Ding Jun sighed deeply.

“Sorry, that’s exactly him,” Fang Qing smiled.

Fang Qianqi and Luo Kai were the two most renowned rangers on Asia’s underworld—black and white respectively. Luo Kai’s fame was slightly greater, but he admired only one person during his lifetime: Fang Qianqi.

Fang Qianqi excelled in tomb raiding, especially mountain tombs and temple treasures. Rumor had it he possessed a natural “treasure-seeking eye,” able to assess a mountain at a glance and determine if it concealed riches.

“Excuse me,” Ding Jun smiled wryly, holding the guns as he returned them to Fang Qing.

“My brother is now semi-retired, often saying the older generation should step aside and make way for the young. It’s the natural order of the world, universally true. I’ve heard him mention you, though you’ve never met, it doesn’t stop him from admiring you. Once this matter here concludes, I’d like to invite you, Mr. Ding, to Kathmandu, Nepal, to create a chance for you two to have a heartfelt conversation. It’ll surely be a delightful tale,” Fang Qing said without arrogance, as if the Mountain King of Asia was merely an ordinary man, not someone to boast about.

Ding Jun responded appreciatively: “That would be my greatest wish.”

They continued chatting a while longer, just about to return to the monastery when dust billowed on the main road behind them—it was Ruan Feng again.

“Hey, handsome and beautiful, interested in joining my barbecue party? Tolin Monastery is vegetarian, but over here we eat meat—grilled fish, shrimp, crab, pork belly, chicken wings…” Ruan Feng popped his head out the car window.

Fang Qing readily agreed: “Of course, who would refuse delicious food?”

She climbed into the car first, Ding Jun followed, patting Ruan Feng’s shoulder: “Just eat, no tricks, especially don’t drag Miss Fang into any trouble, got it?”

Ruan Feng exclaimed: “Hey, you’ve only known her a few days and already playing bodyguard? The famed Mountain King Fang Qianqi’s beautiful sister must have thousands of handsome admirers chasing her—there are plenty who want that job! Ding Jun, give it a rest!”

Fang Qing’s cheeks flushed as she turned away, smiling silently.

She knew when to hold her tongue, never joking excessively—something Ding Jun admired most. In modern cities, especially among girls from prominent families, character and manners often left much to be desired. True beauties like Fang Qing—graceful, refined—were indeed rare.

For that reason, Ding Jun was willing to be her guardian, shielding her from all dangers.

Ruan Feng steered the car down a forked path to a hollow at the foot of a mountain downwind of Tolin Monastery. He skillfully pulled out a barbecue grill and half a bag of charcoal from the back seat, quickly lighting the fire. Then, from a car refrigerator, he took out a dozen kinds of marinated foods, all spiced.

Fang Qing picked up a skewer of squid and suddenly laughed: “These were skewered just half an hour ago; the squid’s texture is perfect, and the seasoning hasn’t fully dissolved. Mr. Ruan, did you specially buy this food to treat us?”

Ruan Feng paused mid-task and shook his head vigorously: “No way! I just think eating barbecue alone is no fun. It’s the spirit of a bonfire party to eat and chat together—”

His embarrassed expression sparked laughter from Ding Jun and Fang Qing.

“What’s so funny…? Okay, okay, you got me. Consider it my way to win your favor,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Favor comes with expectations,” Fang Qing said.

“When you take a gift, you owe something. Ruan Feng, just be straightforward; don’t set traps,” Ding Jun said.

Ruan Feng busied himself spreading the burning charcoal evenly, placing the grill over the fire, and laying out skewers. Nearby was a large cardboard box filled with seasoning jars, paper plates, forks—everything needed.

“I’m the chef; you two just eat and listen. It’s no easy feat to prepare all this barbecue in desolate Zada County. Cut me some slack, will you?” Ruan Feng, clearly with a purpose, laughed along despite the teasing.

Ding Jun replied seriously: “Alright, we’re all ears.”

After a day of interaction, Ding Jun found Ruan Feng not unpleasant, but rather an interesting character.

In this world, many refuse to follow the tide, living uniquely and unconventionally, often scorned as oddities. With the right approach, even these “strange” people can appear normal.

The aroma of grilled squid floated across the wilderness. Surprisingly, Ruan Feng’s car also contained four folding chairs and a folding table.

“Never dreamed I’d eat barbecue outside Tolin Monastery, comfortably seated, listening to stories,” Fang Qing sighed sincerely.

“I’m not telling stories, but real events,” Ruan Feng corrected promptly, placing the squid skewers on paper plates and handing them over with napkins, his skill rivaling waitstaff at fine restaurants.

“Ding Jun, after we parted, I called Qinglong and casually mentioned you were here. Qinglong said if anyone could find the ‘Heart of the Holy Infant,’ it would be you. So he urged me to get close to you, to cooperate and complete this mission together. Don’t worry about the reward; once the gem is found, Qinglong will pay you twice what he pays me. This time, I’m happy to be your supporting role. How about it?”

Ding Jun ate calmly, thoughtfully considering every word.

The Heart of the Holy Infant gem was the coveted prize of every ambitious person worldwide, believed closely linked to the legendary power of Guge. It was once declared that whoever possessed the gem would command Guge’s divine power, a mysterious force enabling its bearer to dominate the world and rule the Earth.

Fang Qing whistled softly: “Sounds like a great deal. I think Qinglong picked the right person this time.”

Ruan Feng grinned: “Miss Fang, want a ride? The reward is negotiable, but as Fang Qianqi’s sister, you must have seen all kinds of grand scenes and treasures. A few million dollars won’t impress you.”

Fang Qing smiled: “Mr. Ruan, you flatter me. I’m definitely hitching a ride because I also have faith in Mr. Ding. Qinglong can afford the price; my brother can too. I won’t say more, but adding a zero to Qinglong’s offer isn’t out of the question.”

Ruan Feng’s hand trembled, and a squid skewer fell onto the grill, lying crooked.

“Just kidding, don’t panic,” Fang Qing laughed.