“This is the very elixir of immortality,” Wang Cang Hai said, pointing to the mural. “Consuming it grants an additional hundred years of life. Look, after Ji Mu took the elixir, his appearance remained frozen at the age of twenty-nine. He ruled the Zhou Kingdom for eighty-six years, becoming the longest-reigning and longest-living king in recorded history.”
Wan San sighed in amazement. “I always thought the historical accounts claiming King Mu of Zhou lived to 105 and ascended to immortality were exaggerated. But it seems he truly left the mortal world and went to the Kunlun Divine Palace to become an immortal.”
By now, the two had followed the underground river to a serene pool. Wang Cang Hai smiled and said, “We’re here. Let’s have our meal, drink some wine, and enjoy some music.”
But Wan San’s curiosity about the story of the Queen Mother of the West and Ji Mu wasn’t yet sated. “You said earlier that this tomb was created by a heartbroken woman to bury tokens of her love. That woman must have been the Queen Mother of the West, right? Did they eventually part ways?”
“Yes,” Wang Cang Hai confirmed with a nod. “The Queen Mother and Ji Mu were only reunited in the Kunlun Divine Palace for fifteen days before they parted again.” He paused and added, “The story doesn’t have a happy ending. Let’s talk about it more as we eat.”
Crouching down, Wang Cang Hai picked up the bamboo cylinder with the glowing pearl, signaling Wan San to follow and watch his steps carefully.
Wan San looked down at the pool, noticing the stalagmites rising at varying heights beneath the water. Wang Cang Hai stepped lightly from one stone pillar to another, his movements so graceful it seemed as though he was walking on water. Only the soles of his shoes became faintly damp. Of course, a single misstep could send someone plunging into the water.
Wang Cang Hai moved swiftly, and Wan San had no time for further questions, instead carefully following his footsteps.
Step left twice, rotate the body right, step right once, rotate left, step forward… It struck Wan San that this was more than a simple path—it seemed to follow the principles of a formation.
“Is this a plum blossom pole formation for practicing light-footed martial arts?” Wan San asked curiously.
Without pausing, Wang Cang Hai replied, “It is. At first, I thought it followed the pattern of the Big Dipper formation, but I took the wrong steps and fell into the water twice. It took me half a day to realize that it’s not arranged as the seven stars of the Big Dipper but as a nine-star formation. Each of the nine palaces has thirty-six variations, and to crack it, you need to follow specific steps: twelve steps in Kan Palace, fourteen in Kun, four in Zhen, six in Xun, twelve in the central palace, eleven in Qian, five in Dui, five in Gen, and two in Li. That’s seventy-one steps in total. You must get both the direction and sequence exactly right. Using martial arts to leap over it might be safe, but the pavilion won’t appear.”
“The pavilion? What pavilion?” Wan San asked, bewildered.
Just then, Wang Cang Hai finished the final step and turned back to steady Wan San by the arm. “Stand still and don’t move,” he instructed.
Before their eyes, the pool began to sink at its center, forming a swirling vortex. From the heart of the whirlpool, an intricately crafted hexagonal stone pavilion emerged. Water from the pool flowed down six channels beneath the pavilion.
Wan San clung to Wang Cang Hai’s sleeve, cautiously stepping into the pavilion.
“This mechanism is a true masterpiece,” Wan San marveled. “Look at this stone table and stools, carved with lifelike dragons and phoenixes. Even the way the water flows through the pavilion is breathtakingly beautiful.”
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