Since that person went missing, the only information the police had given me was to retrieve his final letter and the investigation materials he had been collecting on my behalf. When I arrived at his room, I couldn’t even get past the door. A harried police officer, clearly overwhelmed, shoved a disorganized pile of items into my hands with barely concealed irritation and sent me on my way.

　　This place is called Neweisin Kangyu, a remote border region where Sichuan and Tibet meet. Consequently, during this dull and restless season, the sky is perpetually a murky gray. True to expectations, as I made my way back to the research institute, a drizzle began to fall, adding to the already chilly atmosphere.

　　It wasn’t until I returned to the institute that I discovered a thick journal with the grotesquely twisted title "The Call" had been accidentally mixed in with the crumpled, yellowed file folders by some careless clerk. This was how I stumbled upon the things that made me feel extremely uneasy, as well as the true cause of that person’s death—the origin of it all...

　　To prevent my shocked and incoherent words from making this narrative even more confusing, I’ll start by explaining a local legend here:

　　It’s said that when Nuwa mended the sky, there was one piece of the heaven-patching stone missing, leaving a gap that led to an unknown realm—the current Neweisin Kangyu Mountain. Nuwa borrowed this mountain from the local mountain deity to cover the gap. Since the mountain deity wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about the idea, Nuwa made a vow on the spot: once she found a suitable stone to patch the sky, she would seal the gap, allowing Neweisin Kangyu Mountain to return to its rightful place and granting the local people, who lived by the mountains and water, true freedom.

　　As for what "true freedom" means, who knows?

　　...

　　“Hey! Teacher, why are you back so late?” My assistant, Xiao Zhang, knocked on the door, looking surprised to see me working so late. He was also taken aback by my shoulders, which were soaked from protecting those materials in the rain.

　　“I’d rather not talk about it. That fatty Dong is nowhere to be found, and now things have escalated to the point where the police are involved. Well, at least he kept his promise to us.” I piled the materials on the table, nodded at Xiao Zhang, and went to pour myself a cup of hot tea.

　　As my right-hand man, Xiao Zhang quickly understood what I meant and didn’t say a word before diving into organizing the materials.

　　“Teacher, what’s this?”

　　Xiao Zhang’s trembling voice drew me over. As I approached, I saw him holding a book, his head lowered in obvious fear...

　　It was an indescribable sense of shock. Unlike the elegant, awe-inspiring calligraphy that Mr. Dong was known for, the two characters on that journal looked like they had been written by someone in a frenzy—twisted, irregular, and utterly unappealing, forming the two unsettling words "The Call."

　　Thinking the journal might contain clues about Dong’s whereabouts, I rushed to send it to the police station the next day. To my surprise, the book was back in my hands by that afternoon.

　　What surprised me wasn’t just their efficiency, but also the fact that the book clearly couldn’t be used as evidence.

　　“It’s just an adventure novel, sir. Thanks for bringing it in.”

　　After I started flipping through the book myself, I understood why—the reasons that couldn’t be spoken aloud.

　　I’ll summarize the matter in plain language:

　　The story unfolds among four rare intellectuals in this remote border region.

　　"Brother Chen, this is against village rules. Are you really going to do this?" Xiao Jiu, the youngest among the four, naturally felt timid about such a matter.

　　"What's the big deal? I'm breaking down feudal ignorance. In this backwater place, if we don't step up, how are we going to bring in materialism?" Chen Qinghe patted Xiao Jiu, who was bowing his head, and then sighed, suggesting that he might as well wait outside for them.

　　"No way! I'm going in with you guys." Xiao Jiu pouted, seemingly disliking the feeling of being underestimated.

　　"Alright, alright, stop arguing. It's not like no one's ever entered this cave before," Ali said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall with a confident expression.

　　Ali was the perfect person to say that because the last person who defied village rules and ventured into the cave was Ali's uncle, Amuli Zhen. Unlike the local residents' superstitions, Amuli Zhen was recognized as a fearless individual who had been disconnected from all religious activities, including sacrifices, since childhood. It was only natural for him to do something considered sacrilegious by the locals.

　　That time, Amuli Zhen, thoroughly drunk, accepted a bet from a neighbor to explore the depths of the cave after being provoked. Although the neighbor later claimed it was just a drunken impulse and he hadn't meant it, it didn't deter Amuli Zhen from wanting to explore the cave.

　　So, on a dark and windy night, Amuli Zhen packed his bag and headed straight for Neweisin Kangyu Mountain.

　　The cave entrance at night seemed like a receptacle for all the evil in the world, emitting a strange, cold wind that seemed to slowly pull people inside. Despite the eerie scene, Amuli Zhen didn't pay it much mind.

　　The reason for exploring this mysterious place at night was that during the day, someone was always guarding the cave entrance to prevent mischievous children from wandering into the cave that connected to the "gap in the sky." Of course, stubborn adults like Amuli Zhen were also high on the village's watch list.

　　As for why no one guarded the cave at night, firstly, no one dared to take on such a task, and secondly, no one would have imagined that someone would dare to visit the place at night.

　　Having said pretty much everything that needed to be said, Amuli Zhen's footsteps echoed through the vast, lengthy cave, breaking the silence.

　　As for what Amuli Zhen, a grown man, actually saw inside the cave that night, no one could say for sure. All people knew was that the person on duty that day found him curled up at the cave entrance as usual.

　　His traditional animal-hide clothing, which he always wore, had been torn in several places. Fortunately, there were no scratch marks on Amuli Zhen's body; the only injuries were scrapes from falling and twisting his ankle while fleeing.

　　While people suspected that some enormous beast might be sleeping inside the cave, Amuli Zhen vehemently denied it.

　　He refused to speak a word about what had happened that night and warned the villagers never to approach the cave again, saying that it was inhabited by creatures far beyond ordinary beings. From then on, Amuli Zhen participated in all sacrificial activities.

　　Whenever the shaman chanted incomprehensible spells, Amuli Zhen would also pray devoutly. Anyone standing close to him could feel the remorse expressed in his contorted expression, as if he had angered something that humans should never have had any contact with.

　　In the end, he took up the mottled wooden scepter that he had once scorned and became the newest and youngest wizard in the village.