The two of them walked along the dark corridor to the left, turned right at the end, and descended by a dusty concrete staircase, and after four turns, entered another quiet, cold corridor.

The corridor in front of you is the same size as the one on the ground, but the façade, the top, and the ground are all filled with wild and chaotic colored lines. At first glance, the lines are disorganized and meaningless, but Guan Wen sank his heart, looked at the past from near to far, and gradually understood that what was painted here was a killing array composed of various weapons, which ran through Changhong and ran to the end of the corridor.

"Good, good." He understood the picture and couldn't help clapping his hands in admiration.

On the one hand, the painter's use of abstract lines to represent xiàn weapons is an artistic pursuit, and on the other hand, it can be explained that the weapons attack speed is extremely fast, and they cannot see the shape of the sword clearly, but can only feel the flow of murderous aura and the chill of the blade, which is a hundred times more clever than those craftsmen who simply draw thousands of troops and horses charging into battle.

"Can you read it? That's for the best, to prove that I'm not looking for the wrong person. The big man breathed a sigh of relief.

"Where does the road lead? I really haven't heard of the story of the Demon Master, please tell me about it. Guan Wen asked rhetorically. He stood at the entrance and stroked the rough or delicate lines, as if touching a sword in the hand of a samurai, and was immediately fascinated by the thought that someone could paint with his "mind" and draw the invisible things that flowed in the air.

"Ahead, is the life and death field of the last battle of the demon masters." The big man walked forward with Guan Wen and continued, "The world only sees the splendor of the Potala Palace, and the purity and holiness of Lhasa and even the entire snowy plateau, but who would have thought that in order to defend this qiē, how many heroes are buried under the mountains of Tibet?"

Guan Wen nodded: "On the back of any prosperity and strength, there are unsung heroes who have selfless dedication, so the era and all cities are the same."

"Do you still remember how the history books and Buddhist scriptures describe the story of Princess Wencheng's demon suppression?" The big guy asked.

Guan Wen nodded: "Of course I remember, that allusion has become the city card of Lhasa, from the eminent monks to the four or five-year-old naughty children, they can tell that story completely."

The big man sighed: "But that story is fake - at least incomplete, and it is unfair for historians who write books and stories to put all the credit on Princess Wencheng." This situation is like in the process of the change of dynasties in history, the credit for overthrowing the rule and rebuilding the peaceful and prosperous world is counted on the emperor's head, but it is the heroes who actually do the work and shed blood and sacrifice. Historians hold a pen like a rafter, and they can write whatever they want, and they can write whatever the emperor tells them to do......"

Before they knew it, they had reached the end of the corridor, where the lines of the swords had changed significantly, from parallel lines like the back waves of the river pushing the front waves, to a spiral that rotated forward counterclockwise. The complexity of the line changes makes Guan Wen dizzy and dizzy.

He closed his eyes and groped the lines on the left wall with both hands, feeling the reversal of the air flow and the murderous surge.

"What do you feel?" The big guy asked.

Guan Wen didn't have time to answer, took seven or eight steps forward, and blurted out steeply: "It's a waterfall, it's Hukou Waterfall!"

In his senses, all the murderous aura came to this, the formation suddenly tightened, the power gathered at a high speed, and the draft went straight down, pouring thousands of miles, into a circular deep well. This appearance is the spectacular scene of Hukou Waterfall of the Yellow River.

The big man high-fived and praised: "Okay, you said it so well!" Open your eyes, we're about to enter that place. ”

Guan Wen didn't open his eyes, but continued to move forward, but when he stepped again, he stepped into the air and walked forward. Fortunately, the big man struck in time, grabbed his left arm, and carried him back.

"Ahh If the big man moves a little slower, he will fall from the mouth of the well and fall into the bottomless darkness.

He didn't care about anything else, but first looked at the lines that represented the murderous aura, which had gone down the wall of the well, crisscrossing and crisscrossing into the darkness.

"What's that?" He looked down.

"That's ...... That's ......" the big man smiled bitterly, "popularly speaking, it is the place where the legend Chinese Cheng princess suppressed demons, but in fact, Princess Wencheng has never been here, and the one who really completed the great cause of demon suppression is the 3,000-volt demon master of Wagangzhai." Guan Wen, are you afraid?"

Guan Wen shook his head: "Don't be afraid."

The big man pointed to the deep well: "Then do you dare to go down with me to the bottom of the deep well." There are many things, and only by being there can you understand what really happened in distant antiquity. However, this qiē has nothing to do with treasure, and doing it is boring and even dangerous, so you'd better think about it before making a decision. ”

Guan Wen closed his eyes, and all the lines along the way jumped and surged in his mind, like a dozen vigorous dragons.

"I seem to have dreamed of such a scene...... Long Fei Nine Days, Eight Desolations, a great battle took place in the dark night, a bloodshed and death were covered by darkness, only when the lightning suddenly fell, can you see some vague scenes...... "He really dreamed of something strange, it seemed to be related to these sudden dragon-like lines killing array. However, he did not know what was under the deep well.

"Have you figured it out?" The big guy asked.

Guan Wen took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes: "Think about it, go."

The big man took a step forward, pressed an extremely hidden button with his right hand, and with a soft "click", countless lights in the deep well lit up one after another, spiraling into a downward light strip, reaching the infinite depths. In fact, all the lights are controlled by this same switch, but the deepest lights are too far away, and although they are lit at the same time, there is a small delay of tens of milliseconds when they reach Guan Wen's eyes.

"It's really deep, it's really too deep—" Guan Wen looked down, feeling dizzy again.

The big man led the way, and the two men stepped on a narrow path carved into the stone wall, about one step wide, enough to fit only one adult.

The path rotates counterclockwise downward, and on the right-hand side there is a rudimentary iron railing that protects the passers. On the stone wall on the left-hand side, there are still flying and jumping lines, resolute and unrestrained, straight to the bottom of the well.

The deep well is in a state of small mouth and big belly, and after descending seven or eight meters, the inner diameter expands to more than ten meters.

Guan Wen looked up, the wellhead had become narrow and dim, and looking down, there was still no end in sight.

After descending a dozen times around the shaft, a recessed cave appeared at the bend ahead. The big man walked to the cave, stood softly, propped his left hand on the stone wall, and looked into the cave.

There was no light in the cave, and the light on the stone wall was slanting in.

Guan Wen could see clearly that the cave was only five steps deep, and there was no furniture in it, only a shabby straw mat spread on the ground.

Suddenly, someone spoke in the cave and spoke a passage in Tibetan, his voice hoarse, and his tone was old and desolate.

The big man also replied a few words, passed the cave, and continued to walk forward.

Guan Wen walked over, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a skinny old monk, sitting cross-legged on the straw mat, staring at his pale eyes, looking forward in a daze.

Guan Wen nodded to the other party, not knowing how to say hello.

"He can't see, he can only listen." The big guy explained.

Guan Wen agreed, and just as he was about to follow, the old monk suddenly pounced forward and grabbed his wrist with great accuracy.

"Gu Kangsang (Tibetan, hello)?" Guan Wen tried to suppress his turmoil and greeted the other party in simple Tibetan, but his wrist felt like he was caught in a pincer, and it hurt heartily.

"Kanefepa (Tibetan, where did it come from)?" The old monk asked, and his five fingers tightened little by little like a steel hook.

The big man turned around and explained in Tibetan: "He is a painter, and I will take him to see the mandala seal."

The old monk slowly let go of his hand, and retracted into a corner of the cave, maintaining a half-lying and half-sitting position.

"Let's go, they are the guardians of this place, and they have dedicated their lives to the cause of guarding this place. As I said, there are too many unsung heroes like them in Tibet, who only know how to give and never ask for it. The big man quickened his pace.

"What did you talk about at the beginning? I can only understand a few simple words like 'no, message'. Guan Wen asked.

The big man smiled bitterly: "Don't worry, wait until you go down, and I'll explain it to you together." You can only believe this if you explain it in this environment. ”

Next, they passed through thirty-five identical caves, each guarded by a scrawny old monk, but unlike the first one, they passed through without being unexpectedly hindered. In the process of spiraling downward, the inner diameter of the deep well is getting larger and larger. The trail they passed through was like a plank road in ancient Shudi, completely carved out of the cliff with a hammer and an axe, and the chisel marks under their feet and sides were still clearly visible.

After about sixty laps of descent, they reached the end of the trail and stepped onto the long-lost flat land. In front of it is a circular flat square with a diameter of about 50 paces, and freehand lines are drawn everywhere on the ground and the walls of the cave.

In the small square, there are more than a dozen mani piles, about two meters high, composed of hundreds of gravel pieces; The low one is only half a meter and consists of a dozen stones.

Mani pile and mani stone are the traditional folk art of the Tibetan people, and the stone is engraved with various auspicious patterns such as six-character mantras, wisdom eyes, and statues of gods, in order to dispel evil spirits and seek blessings. A large number of Mani stones can be composed into Mani piles or Mani walls, which can be seen in the mountains, at junctions, by lakes, and by rivers in Xizàng.

When he first entered Tibet, Guan Wen had studied Mani stone and was quite familiar with the patterns drawn on it. When he walked to the nearest mani pile, he found that all the stones were painted in the shape of dragons.

"All of these are left behind by the Three Thousand Volt Demon Master. Their art of painting has gone beyond the original meaning of the xizàng mani stone and has become part of the means of subduing demons. Look at the Mani wall in front of you—" The big man pointed forward, and took Guan Wen around the two tall Mani piles, and a red Mani wall one meter high and one meter wide appeared in front of him.

The Mani Wall is made of large and small Mani stones, which are not red, but are poured with red paint to turn this abrupt and terrifying color of blood.

The wall was enclosed in a circle, and Guan Wen's gaze crossed the Mani wall and saw the colorful mandala surrounded by the wall.

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