The authenticity of this story is beyond question. All four of us educated youths were filled with the urge to see it for ourselves — after all, we believed in Marxism, not superstition. About a month later, we finally had a chance to enter that forest.
It was late autumn or early winter. Two of the village’s yellow oxen had gone missing — a huge loss for such a poor mountain village. So the old village chief made a wise decision: everyone had to help find the cattle.
Almost all the young people in the village went out. The four of us were included, tasked with searching around the village while others went farther away since they knew the terrain better. We didn’t object to this arrangement. Instead, we borrowed two sickles and an iron rod from the old lady’s house and set off.
As soon as we left the village, we headed east. Anyone with sense knew that if the oxen were still nearby, they would’ve been found already. So we went eastward — pretending to look for the oxen, but in truth, we wanted to find the so-called Tiger God’s Tomb.
We walked east for an entire day and still hadn’t reached the forest the old lady described. She had said it wasn’t large but that the trees were enormous — clearly different from those elsewhere. By dusk, we set up camp under a tree, lit a fire, and roasted two wild rabbits for dinner.
Before dark, I had gathered enough firewood. Night soon fell. We decided to take turns resting, each person keeping watch for a few hours.
At midnight, Lao Sun woke me up — it was my turn for the last watch. I added more wood to the fire and stayed alert.
Not long after, a sudden flurry of bird calls startled me. Then, in the distance, I saw two white dots. My first fear was that they were wild animals’ eyes. But after staring for a while, I realized they weren’t moving. That calmed me down, and I kept watching them until dawn.
When the others woke, we ate some wild fruit. I told them about the two white dots I’d seen. To my surprise, none of them looked shocked — they must’ve noticed them too.
We decided to check the place where the lights were. After walking half an hour, we found an old pair of spectacles. Looking closely, we realized they belonged to the village chief. Who knows what had caused him to “drop his glasses”? But it meant that he and the others must have come this way.
We kept walking for another half day and finally saw an unusual forest.
Just like the old lady said, it wasn’t large, but the trees were massive and neatly aligned, all about the same size. It was clearly man-made — an old plantation. We ate lunch there, roasting three more wild rabbits to carry along.
Not long after setting off again, we reached a steep slope. Climbing it was tough, and as we turned a corner, we spotted the two missing oxen.
That excited us greatly. Suddenly, one ox slipped, tearing the skin on its leg — blood gushing out. Luckily, it could still stand, so the bone wasn’t broken. Ignoring the wound, the ox kept walking. Then it suddenly stopped and began sniffing the ground.
When we saw what it was sniffing, we froze in terror — there was a man lying there, bound with chains.
Apparently, the ox saw him too. It sniffed once more, then stepped right over him. We were horrified — a four-hundred-kilogram ox stepping on someone? No one could survive that!
We rushed over, but the man was gone. The ox’s hoofprints were clear and unbroken — yet the body had vanished. Cold sweat drenched our backs. Lao Sun muttered, “Let’s get out of here. This place is cursed.”
We herded the oxen back the way we came. After walking for a while without incident, we stopped to rest and discuss what to do next.
Lao Sun said, “Man, I can’t stand not knowing what’s going on. We should check it out again.”
Zeng Xiang agreed, “We should go back and see.”
Only Lao Hu wanted to quit.
I said, “Don’t argue. Lao Hu can take the oxen back to the village. The three of us will go see what’s really happening.”
Lao Sun added, “Don’t worry, Lao Hu. We’ll catch up soon.”
So we made the plan. After eating a little, we gave one of the sickles to Lao Hu and headed back toward the Tiger Forest. Zeng Xiang carried the food; Lao Sun and I led the way.
I asked, “Lao Sun, what do you think happened back there?”
He answered quietly, “Must be something to do with a magnetic field.”
“I thought it was a ghost,” Zeng Xiang said half-jokingly.
Before long, we reached the same spot again.
“We all saw that man, right? But did the ox see him too? Hard to say — it seemed to sniff first before stepping,” Zeng Xiang mused.
“Let’s go farther,” Lao Sun said. The deeper we went, the more uneasy we felt. The trees had a strange, oppressive aura that made us restless. Sweat ran down my back. “Xiang, I feel like something’s watching us,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer — probably felt the same.
After walking a while, we found a cave. Lao Sun said, “The old lady and her group lived in a cave like this for years — must be safe.”
We carefully entered. There was no sign of danger. The cave had several natural skylights, so sunlight streamed in. By evening, we ate and decided to rest.
We built a fire and fell asleep quickly — exhaustion took over. When I woke, Lao Sun was already awake, holding a torch and examining something in the corner.
Zeng Xiang was still asleep. I walked over. “What did you find?”
“It looks like this used to be a bandit’s hideout,” Lao Sun said. “According to the writing on the wall, there was once a bandit king named Nurhaici. He had great power in the Liaodong area. Late in life, he found a sacred land here in the Greater Khingan Mountains and made it his base.
But later, for unknown reasons, he suddenly vanished, and his followers scattered. This inscription reads: ‘Tiger God’s Tomb — the tiger god within, treasures confined by the mountain, no known entrance. Heroes of the greenwood, moonlight pierces the stone.’
That means the tomb is inside the rock — but there’s no way in.” Lao Sun frowned, puzzled.
Just then, Zeng Xiang woke and said, “The moon is so bright tonight.”
We stepped outside. The night sky was full of stars, surrounding the bright moon — like the “Star Array” from Zhou’s Astronomical Texts. Ancient books said: “When the five planets align and the moon lies between them, the earth below is blessed.” This was indeed a place of extraordinary geomancy.
From the hillside, we could see that the cave was halfway up the mountain. Ancient trees ringed the slope like sentinels. The mountain looked like a great broom — wide here, narrow there. Under the moonlight, it stood apart from the others, isolated. Even stranger, the moonlight focused on a small patch of ground — as if we were being watched.
The terrain was like a treasure basin — ideal for a tomb. I was certain there was an ancient grave beneath our feet.
We didn’t plan to rob it, but Lao Sun’s curiosity was stronger. “I want to go down and take a look,” he said tensely, waiting for our response.
“Are you crazy?” Zeng Xiang snapped. “This mountain is solid rock — even if it’s not, the roots of those trees would stop us.”
We all knew what he meant. I recalled the inscription: ‘Moonlight pierces the stone.’ That must be the key to the entrance.
Lao Sun gazed at the sky. “It means the moonlight passes through the stone and reaches the tomb. Light alone can’t do that — there must be a cave or passage where it enters. That passage must be the tomb’s entrance.”
We both agreed.
“There’s a cave right behind us,” I said, grabbing some dry wood as we went back in.
“Wait,” Zeng Xiang whispered. “Don’t you think it’s unusually quiet here?”
We stopped and listened. He was right — the silence was unnerving.
Inside the cave, moonlight shone through the skylights, everything looking normal — no clues in sight.
We examined each beam of light carefully but found nothing unusual. Maybe there was another cave nearby? Lao Sun couldn’t figure it out either. That left only one possibility — either the inscription was wrong, or we were missing something.
“Come here, quick!” Zeng Xiang called, holding his torch near a stone platform. We came closer. Moss covered the platform, suggesting water dripped there regularly. Looking up, we saw a faint gleam above.
“There’s a platform but no seat — what, did Nurhaici have hemorrhoids?” I joked.
“Shut up,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Lao Sun examined the light. “The beam hits the rock but doesn’t pass through — so this isn’t the entrance.”
Then Zeng Xiang, ever observant, noticed something. The light refracted strongly on one side. Following his pointing finger, we saw it too — the beam entered a small pool in the cave floor.
At first, I thought it was just a puddle. But when we approached, we saw it was deep — so deep we couldn’t see the bottom.
We were now almost certain: this was the entrance to the ancient tomb.