Chapter 107: The Headless Statue of the God

My father not only entrusted the talisman to Tang Renjie but also divided his weapons and ammunition evenly among the three of them. The three young men couldn’t understand why he did this; they thought he intended to retreat alone. My father smiled and said to them, “I’m not going back. But if that shadow possesses me, without weapons, I pose less of a threat to you. Remember our agreement: if, and I say if, the shadow targets me, kill me.”

Although they were elite soldiers, they were still just young men in their twenties—practically boys in many people's eyes. At that moment, Chen Dongfang, Sichuan, and Tang Renjie all wept. If before they had called my father “big brother” out of respect for his age, now they were truly moved by his character—something far beyond mere skill.

They pressed forward. It was obvious, even without the talisman, that my father was the most vulnerable among them. Sure enough, as they moved on, the shadow disappeared once again, and none of their talismans flared up. The answer was clear: the shadow had possessed my father.

Sichuan and Tang Renjie raised their guns, aiming at him. My father had entered a strange state—he seemed unable to control himself, yet was struggling fiercely to do so. Sensing this abnormality, he shouted to Tang Renjie and the others, “Kill me! Quickly, kill me!”

Their hands trembled, unable to steady their aim. But hearing his words, they gritted their teeth, ready to fire. Chen Dongfang couldn’t bear it and lowered their guns, pleading, “No, don’t kill the captain.”

Perhaps my father did not want to die either. He shouted, “Right, if I die, the shadow will keep hunting you. Come on, I won’t die so easily. It won’t take my life that simply. Let’s move—meet up with A.”

For a moment, the three lost their bearings but understood this was the best choice. Chen Dongfang grabbed Sichuan and Tang Renjie, urging them to run ahead, putting distance between themselves and my father—and by extension, the shadow. Although abandoning a comrade was shameful, it was unavoidable.

As they distanced themselves, Chen Dongfang’s group remained anxious about my father’s fate. They didn’t look back but had another way to know if he was alive: by watching the shadow. If it didn’t follow them, it meant it was still inside my father. If it did catch up, there was only one conclusion—my father was dead, and the shadow had moved on to them, seeking its next victim.

At a fork in the path, they met up with A and his three men. Approaching them, the newcomers were met with tears once again—this time from fear. Sichuan, using his broken Mandarin, reported the situation to A. Afterward, Chen Dongfang pulled A aside. “The shadow hasn’t followed us yet. That means Ye Tianhua is still alive. Should we go back to save him? Besides, Big Bucktooth’s body is still behind us.”

No one gossiped or took pleasure in their plight—only concern and worry filled the air. In the end, A shook his head. Even if my father might still be alive, rescuing him now would mean drawing closer to the shadow again. A finally revealed the truth: this shadow was the very culprit behind the heavy casualties among the previous soldiers.

It controlled warriors, turning them against their comrades, forcing them to fire guns and throw grenades. Even after a soldier was killed, the shadow would possess another and continue the carnage.

The remaining six men grew particularly united, demanding to know the true nature of their mission. They refused to advance blindly, even if it cost them their lives. They were soldiers, trained to fight enemies on the battlefield—not to march to a senseless death. No one knew when the shadow might catch up and claim their lives.

This time, A did not use force to quell their fears but merely shook his head. “I don’t know much. Only that some experts opened a Pandora’s box and unleashed this shadow. They had a way to fight it, but after they went deeper and sent a distress signal, they lost contact. Beyond that, I’m clueless.”

“Who exactly are you?” Chen Dongfang asked.

A said nothing but gave an order: he would retrace his steps to find my father, while the others would stay put. If he didn’t return within three hours, they were to move on and find the experts to escort them back—that was a direct order from above.

After A left, his squad gathered around Chen Dongfang’s group, urging them to recount what happened at the fork. Sichuan’s broken Mandarin drew grim expressions from everyone. None failed to silently blame him for not carrying more talismans. They also looked down on Tang Renjie, believing that anyone who accepted the talisman under those circumstances was unworthy to be a soldier.

After this discussion, they turned to what the shadow could be—ultimately concluding it must be a ghost. Beyond that, they were clueless. These were young men trained only in modern warfare, utterly unfamiliar with the concept of spirits.

A still hadn’t returned, suggesting he too might have fallen victim, which severely dampened morale. The team soon split over whether to go back or press forward. The vote was evenly divided four to four, leaving the decision to Tang Renjie and Chen Dongfang. Chen Dongfang voted to continue, as previously agreed—if tied, they would retreat. So Tang Renjie’s vote was crucial.

Everyone expected timid Tang Renjie to vote to return, but surprisingly, he cast his vote to move forward. He reasoned that going back wasn’t necessarily safe, and even if they escaped unharmed, their futures would be ruined.

Though pragmatic, his reasoning struck a chord. This group had limitless potential if not for this mission—now everything was at risk. Whether swayed by Tang Renjie’s logic or simply outvoted, they left supplies for A and resumed their advance.

After several more hours, they discovered something remarkable: a cavern filled with countless statues. These statues, resembling those at the Longmen Grottoes, were carved into hundreds of shrines of varying sizes. To create such a scene in a mountain cave was a monumental feat. Yet strangely, every statue was headless.

Not missing heads from the start of carving, but deliberately decapitated afterward. This reminded Chen Dongfang, a native of Luoyang, of the Longmen Grottoes, where many Buddha heads were stolen by relic dealers, leaving many statues headless. But there, only some heads were missing.

Here, every single statue, regardless of size, was completely beheaded—not one spared.

Even if this was a case of artifact theft, it must have been a large-scale operation.

“Do you think this happened during the Cultural Revolution, when the Red Guards came here and smashed the statues?” someone asked.

“Nonsense,” Sichuan replied. “This is deep in the mountains. Even locals don’t know about this place. And the Red Guards weren’t capable of such a massive job. Whoever did this was unbelievably bold—clearly not afraid of hell.”

They continued onward, their minds heavy with the mysteries and dangers that awaited them.