Mysterious Country 1: Mist-Shrouded Champa, Volume 3 Chapter 5: STUPA

Mysterious Country 1: Mist-Shrouded Champa, Volume 3 Chapter 5: STUPA

Thunder and lightning shook the mountains and wilderness. From within the thick clouds, a ghostly “Mosquito Special Transport Plane” suddenly appeared, passing over the heads of the group before vanishing silently into the deep darkness.

Many people had repeatedly sighted the apparitions of “ghost ships” in the Bermuda Triangle region. There were also torpedoes launched from submarines decades ago that still wandered and drifted upon the sea surface to this day. But never had anyone heard of a “ghost plane” missing for over twenty years appearing in the sky. Everyone stood on the mountain ridge, dumbstruck, finding it difficult to believe what their eyes had seen. Could that aircraft which had just passed at low altitude truly be the British Air Force transport plane that had gone missing in the giant rift valley of Wild Man Mountain? Was it a physical entity or a ghost? Or was it a residual image transmitted through the electromagnetic waves within the clouds and fog from decades past, like an illusory mirage?

Yu Feiyan felt lost in her heart, and with the absence of the experienced Master Jiang, she felt increasingly helpless. She could not help but ask Sima Hui: “What do you think we just saw?”

Sima Hui shook his head: “You are the leader, and you are a tomb robber from the shadow trade. You know more than I do about the affairs of the living, and you are more familiar than I with the affairs of the dead. If even you do not know, how would I know?”

Yu Feiyan hated Sima Hui with a heart-wrenching pain yet was powerless against him: “I cannot explain it now either. But I saw that Mosquito transport plane in the sky seemed to be heading toward the ridge on the opposite side. We have no choice but to follow it and see what happens, then decide what to do from there.”

Although it was not yet sunset, under the force of the intense tropical storm, dark clouds covered the wilderness overhead, making it as dark as the bottom of a pot. Even two people standing face to face could not see each other’s features. The lighting equipment they carried had almost lost its usefulness in this environment. The expedition team could only rely on the lightning bolts that tore through the cloud layers, pushing through the dense jungle, tracking the direction where that strange aircraft shadow had disappeared, struggling to advance.

The raging and howling hurricane swept through the primeval jungle of Wild Man Mountain. The rolling thunderclaps foretold that a torrential downpour would soon arrive. Under the assault of the intense tropical storm, most areas were extremely dangerous, with floods and landslides potentially occurring at any moment.

But according to the records left by the British Air Force, the giant rift valley located in the hinterland of Wild Man Mountain was a relatively rare dry mountain deep rift terrain. If described more intuitively, this giant rift valley was a cavernous pit sunk deep underground. It was inferred to have formed from the collapse of water channels millions of years ago, with a depth possibly exceeding one thousand meters. The mountain cave’s orientation was perpendicular to the horizon. The opening was relatively narrow, growing wider the deeper one went. This was a very special geological phenomenon. It was not easily affected by flooding from lower elevations. For the expedition team, in such severe weather conditions, as long as they could manage to avoid mountain collapses, entering the interior of the rift valley would actually make their situation safer.

In the depths of the giant rift valley, clouds and fog permeated the air all year round. No one knew what exactly lay within the thick mist, nor did anyone know the source of the fog itself. Decades ago, the British Royal Air Force Mosquito transport plane had crashed in Wild Man Mountain, precisely disappearing into the boundless fog. At that time, due to the influence of climate changes, the cloud layer was positioned lower, and the cavernous opening of the rift valley could faintly be seen. However, for most of the time, the massive amount of fog surging from the depths of the rift valley would cover a range of several dozen li, making it very difficult to accurately determine its location.

The expedition team led by Yu Feiyan had originally planned to approach the giant rift valley via the “Stilwell Road” that was closest to it. This way they could avoid the obstacles caused by various natural factors on the periphery of Wild Man Mountain, then search for the entrance covered by fog from within the underground caverns. But too many variables had occurred along the way. Now with the drastic change in weather, it was difficult to determine the exact direction within the vast sea of trees. They had no choice but to adapt to circumstances, to search for that mysterious aircraft shadow that had vanished like a ghost behind the mountain ridge. This was also their only remaining clue and hope for survival.

Sima Hui and Luo Dahai took the lead, cutting a path through the nearly impassable undergrowth. Along the way, everything they saw were weathered and time-worn remnants of walls and broken structures. Collapsed tower foundations lay hidden beneath the thick curtains formed by lush vegetation. Massive toppled human-faced statues cast heart-trembling gazes from behind the tangled roots.

More and more traces indicated that “Wild Man Mountain” in those ancient ages long past had indeed possessed a glorious history sealed away by dust. What kind of illustrious civilization had it been? Why were there no related historical records? And who, for what purpose, had destroyed all the ancient ruins that could reveal its true face?

A legend circulated among the folk of Myanmar: “The ancients, in order to protect the secrets buried within Wild Man Mountain, established layers upon layers of traps and obstacles. Anyone who attempted to pry into this secret would suffer sinister curses from which they could never escape, even unto death.”

That was why the local people feared Wild Man Mountain as they would fear ghosts, never daring to approach it by half a step.

Sima Hui had heard this rumor long ago and had not thought much of it at the time. But now, experiencing it firsthand, he knew that “Wild Man Mountain” indeed concealed too many secrets. Although he had participated in the Burmese Communist People’s Army for several years, he was not particularly clear about the ancient history of Myanmar, Laos, and other regions. As he walked, he asked Yu Feiyan, who was following behind him: “Is there an ancient tomb in this mountain?”

Yu Feiyan said: “I have never heard of any tomb in Wild Man Mountain. The nations of Myanmar, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam were all influenced by Chinese and ancient Indian culture. The mausoleums of emperors and nobles through the ages also emphasized ‘deep and profound city walls.’ The various strange signs we have seen along this path, although bizarre, do not resemble the presence of a burial site. I absolutely would not misjudge this point.”

Sima Hui said: “But this deep mountain appears even more mysterious than the deepest tomb chambers. It seems our mission to search for that British transport plane is far more difficult than we initially anticipated. Within the giant rift valley of Wild Man Mountain, there likely exist certain things beyond imagination.”

Yu Feiyan shared this feeling, nodding and saying: “Ghosts and gods cannot fathom its mechanisms; the underworld cannot exhaust its illusions…”

As they spoke, the wind carried countless raindrops the size of soybeans, scattering down from midair. They struck people’s faces with such pain that they could not raise their heads at all. Yu Feiyan lowered the goggles on her jungle combat cap, then looked up at the heights, urging Sima Hui and the others: “The vanguard of Stupa has arrived. If you still want to live, you must move faster.”

Sima Hui knew that in the Burmese language, “Stupa” was the phonetic translation of “Pagoda.” It was said this word came from India’s western neighbor, more precisely ancient India. In China, this was called “Sanskrit.” Its original meaning referred to ancient pagodas. It also carried the meaning of square graves or round graves. Because Indian pagodas were burial mounds for the relics of Buddha and the remains of holy disciples. So the term “Pagoda,” besides referring to “Buddhist pagodas,” also secretly contained a layer of implicit meaning related to “burial.”

No one knew who had given this tropical storm from the Indian Ocean, with wind speeds exceeding 140 miles per hour, the name “Stupa.” But according to past conventions, any storm whose name or code was associated with gods or Buddhas would not be of low intensity. It would certainly trigger disasters of a certain scale. Wherever it passed, houses would collapse and buildings would fall, thousand-year-old ancient trees would be uprooted. It was like the boundless power of Buddha that overwhelmed mountains and seas, making it difficult for mortal beings in the world to withstand.

The central and southern parts of Myanmar were all plains and rivers, belonging to a monsoon tropical rainforest climate. Moving northward, the terrain began to become rugged and complex, with high mountains and deep valleys gradually increasing. As for the “Wild Man Mountain” region, the mountains were deep and the roads remote. Since ancient times, it had always remained in a state of absolute isolation. So when tropical storms made landfall from the coast, passed through the great gaps in the central Myanmar plains, then encountered mountain barriers, they would gradually weaken. If the storms were smaller in scale, they would be difficult to reach “Wild Man Mountain.” However, when encountering a truly fierce intense tropical storm like “Stupa,” the northern Myanmar “Wild Man Mountain” would face a severe test. The lush vegetation growing densely here, along with the countless caves of varying depths, had already made the strata and mountain body extremely fragile. If they did not quickly find a secure refuge, this mountain range covered by primeval forest would truly become the “grave” that buried the expedition team.

Sima Hui knew the gravity of the situation and dared not delay. He and Luo Big Tongue, braving the wind and rain, desperately hacked through the tangled vines blocking their path, struggling to climb toward the direction of the mountain ridge. Sima Hui also knew that the depths of the “Wild Man Mountain” rift valley certainly concealed great dangers. How many explorers and military search and rescue teams dispatched in the past had all perished inside? Both the British and American armies had been helpless against this place. Compared to their “science fiction” level advanced equipment, what advantage could this group of survivors who had just escaped death possibly gain there? But circumstances forced their hand. Knowing full well that it was likely a journey of no return, they had no choice but to steel their hearts and press forward with forced courage.

When they finally reached the vicinity of the “ridge line” at the mountain crest, the group, amid the torrential rain pouring from the sky, by the light of thunder and lightning, saw that the mountain body beneath their feet rose in a conical arch, while the cone’s tip seemed to have been severed at the waist, revealing a vast and deep great rift valley. Irregular cracks extended more than ten li to the north and south. Even at its narrowest points, the width was no less than several hundred meters. It was like a gaping black mouth opening upon the rugged earth’s surface, as if the gates of hell stood before their very eyes.

The exposed inner sections of the mountain body were all dark blue rock strata, covered in hanging vines, appearing both magnificent and bizarre. The intensifying wind and rain had completely dispersed the thick fog that had surged to the surface. But the depths of the Wild Man Mountain giant rift valley remained boundless fog, vast and profound, with no bottom visible at all.

Previously, everyone had imagined more than once what the Wild Man Mountain giant rift valley where that “Mosquito Special Transport Plane” had gone missing might look like. No matter how they thought about it, it was merely a deep rift terrain within the mountains. It could not possibly possess the primal grandeur of America’s Grand Canyon, nor the majestic sweep of Africa’s Great Rift Valley. It was nothing more than an underground cavern with an extremely “vertical orientation.”

But only at this very moment, as the group stood at the edge of the Wild Man Mountain rift valley amid the pouring rain, did they truly experience its absolutely perilous and terrifying nature. Those who had witnessed it with their own eyes could not help but feel fear toward it. Because one would involuntarily experience the illusion of standing at the edge of a bottomless abyss. Looking down even one more glance would cause dizziness and vertigo, as if some nameless terror existed in the depths of the earth that made one’s courage falter. It was an indescribable awe, a profound and distant emptiness, an immeasurable vastness of inner content.