Chapter 65: The Towering Cliff

Chapter 65: The Thousand-Fathom Cliff

Zhang Sanlu tucked the hem of his Taoist robe into his belt, dragged the previously dangling rope to hang at his waist, and began to climb the cliff bare-handed. Because he had only one hand, though his strength was considerable, he inevitably struggled to maintain balance. Yet for reasons unknown, this ascent felt almost like a circus performance—many moves he had never imagined possible even with both hands. For instance, he managed to hang single-handedly from a protruding rock, using the power of his waist to send his foot up to another ledge above.

Sometimes, when he couldn’t reach a rocky outcrop, Zhang Sanlu would flip himself rapidly on the cliff, head down and feet up, hooking onto something with the instep of his foot and then swiftly flipping himself upward. These movements were smooth and agile; his single hand posed no obstacle, and there was even a peculiar elegance about them. Suddenly, a phrase flashed through Zhang Sanlu’s mind: “walking on eaves and walls.”

Except for encountering one or two particularly difficult spots, their climb was swift. Even so, it took them a long time to reach the summit. By the time they stood atop the cliff, the sun was setting. Here, truly at the peak, distant majestic mountains were shrouded in mystery beneath the evening glow, and ethereal white mist curled around the sheer cliffs.

As dusk deepened, a chill crept into the breeze. This place felt like another world, isolated and unreachable—only by being present could one truly comprehend it. Under the slowly spreading blanket of night, this towering and terrifying mountain stood here, like a slumbering giant beast.

There was no path down, nor any road leading elsewhere; only a few scattered rocks accompanied them, while deep, bottomless cliffs flanked both sides. Mist gathered beneath their feet, and Zhang Sanlu sat quietly atop the lonely peak that pierced the clouds, surveying the undulating mountains that stretched endlessly into the distance.

Suddenly, he felt a strange hallucination, as though he were an immortal: with a gentle leap, he could soar from the cliff’s summit, ride above the sea of clouds, traverse a thousand peaks and valleys, and fly toward the distant snowy heights.

He immediately understood those who yearned for transcendence—anyone who had witnessed the breathtaking chill of such heights would never wish to return to earthly obscurity. Everything below, including people, must seem so small and insignificant to them.

The scene before him brought a sensation so uncanny and tranquil that even Zhang Sanlu himself felt afraid. He realized, in that moment, he had truly changed.

“This way,” Chang Hui circled around, concisely beckoning, and led Zhang Sanlu to the mountain’s far side.

When Zhang Sanlu came over, he saw below the cliff, about a hundred meters above the ground, scattered points of firelight beneath. The sounds wafted upward, carried by the mountain wind, turning into a ghostly wail, impossible to decipher.

Watching the flickering lights below, Zhang Sanlu understood why they had to climb up from the mountain’s other side and descend here. This cliff had no path at all; though it seemed they had taken a roundabout way, there was no alternative. Even those accustomed to life in the mountains could not possibly scale such sheer, footless cliffs for several hundred meters straight up or down.

Here, too, many ropes had already been lowered. Zhang Sanlu and Chang Hui began their descent, only to discover holes in the cliffside—whether manmade or natural, it was hard to tell.

It seemed those who had come before had searched each hole one by one, for Zhang Sanlu saw traces inside that were relatively new. Most of the holes were shallow, likely natural fissures; some were so small they could hardly be called holes, and very few could fit an entire person. Even so, Zhang Sanlu discovered many incomplete skeletons within, some with hair still visible, but most bones were scattered, perhaps pecked at by birds of prey.

What puzzled Zhang Sanlu was why these people had died here—was there some custom akin to hanging coffins?

After descending nearly a hundred meters, Zhang Sanlu saw Zhang Zhi Dao standing at the mouth of one cave. Further down, firelights still dotted the cliff, as if the search continued.

Zhang Zhi Dao looked weary, and upon seeing Zhang Sanlu, merely nodded and said, “You’ve come.”

“Brother Dao, you called me over, is it…”

Zhang Zhi Dao nodded, indicating Zhang Sanlu should follow him into the cave.

This cave was unusual, as Zhang Sanlu soon noticed—its surroundings bore clear marks of human reinforcement. Though only about a person’s height and deeper than any other cave, its end was visible at a glance, where a skeleton sat cross-legged.

“What you saw was found on him,” Zhang Zhi Dao said.

Zhang Sanlu held his breath and approached, eager to see what secret the skeleton might hide.

Yet to call it a skeleton was perhaps inaccurate, for this corpse differed from the others above—it had not been gnawed, retaining an intact human form. The bones remained in shape mainly because the body was clad in an iron garment.

“What is this…” Zhang Sanlu wondered why the corpse wore such heavy attire.

“This, it’s said, is a form of ascetic practice—a means to subdue a practitioner’s desires, to attain true transformation,” Zhang Zhi Dao explained.

Zhang Sanlu shook his head, indicating he’d never heard of such a thing, but he couldn’t help but marvel at how someone could climb so high wearing this iron suit—the physical strength alone was extraordinary.

At first glance, the iron garment resembled medieval European armor; Zhang Sanlu had seen local soldiers’ armor, mostly scales or plates sewn onto leather or cloth, rarely such large, solid pieces. Upon closer inspection, the entire iron suit had corroded and rusted into a single mass, looking more like a torture device—a chunk of iron used to encase a person.

Through the collar’s gap, he saw the bones inside had long since collapsed with the loss of flesh. Around the skeleton, the black cave walls bore many dents, hammered out by unknown means.

At this point, with Zhang Zhi Dao and Zhang Sanlu’s bodies nearly blocking the cave entrance, Chang Hui extended the torch, hoping its light would reveal more through the gap.

“There’s more than this. Most caves with skeletons are concentrated in the upper half of the mountain—over a hundred have been found so far. And below the cliffs, there are signs of people quarrying and working here. Judging by the traces, at least several thousand people!”

“You mean, there are many such caves here? And all of them show evidence of human labor?” Zhang Sanlu was stunned. Such a massive undertaking on the cliffside would be difficult even in a world of advanced engineering, much less in this strange, primitive land.