Zha Wenbin, He Yichao, and Zhuo Xiong arrived at the well almost at the same time. The bell at the well's mouth swayed gently, suggesting something had recently gone by. Zha Wenbin switched on his flashlight, pointing it towards the ancient well where drops of water had splashed around—a clear sign that something had fallen in. Without saying a word, it was clear to all of them what had likely happened. He Yichao quickly dropped his backpack, pulled out a climbing rope, and tied it around his waist with practiced speed. This military-grade nylon rope was as strong as it was durable. At the other end, Zhuo Xiong, as if rehearsed, wrapped the rope around himself twice, becoming a human pulley. The well's circular opening required a head-first descent—a tricky move. For most people, staying upside-down for fifteen minutes would be unbearable because of the pressure it puts on the head. Before going down, Yichao scanned the water's surface with his light. There was nothing but darkness, except for the rippling water indicating something had just fallen in.
Descending was their only move now. Zha Wenbin, who could communicate with the unseen, was not suited for this task. His job was to stand guard, ensuring nothing interrupted their mission. They established a rope-signal code: one yank to lower, two to stop, and three to pull up. Zhuo Xiong braced himself at the well's edge. Yichao nodded at Zha Wenbin and gave Zhuo Xiong a thumbs-up before securing himself at the well's mouth. He turned on his headlamp, trying to steady himself against the mossy, slick walls. Finding a secure grip took several tries. Once stable, he signaled Zhuo Xiong to start lowering the rope.
The rope descended inch by inch. After five meters, they heard splashing sounds echoing up; Yichao had reached the surface. From above, they were clueless about conditions below. The tactical light helped Yichao signal for more rope. In less than two minutes, he had gone down more than twenty meters—a depth that could result in oxygen deprivation when you're upside-down. Despite Yichao's endurance from his days in Tibet, it was anyone's guess how long he could maintain this pose.
Zhuo Xiong and Zha Wenbin watched carefully, ready to pull the rope if needed. Suddenly, the rope twitched twice, the signal to stop. Within seconds, a loud bubbling noise surged from below, getting louder. The rope started shaking violently. Sensing danger, both men quickly pulled with all their strength. The middle part of the rope turned incredibly light, and just as they pulled, a massive surge of water erupted from the well, shooting skyward with Yichao in it. Without even checking on Yichao, Zha Wenbin and Zhuo Xiong could only gape at the water column rising skyward with great force. Zha Wenbin muttered, "A water dragon reaching for the moon! What is this place?!" Turning his eyes back to the water spout and the stunned Zhuo Xiong, he yelled, "Grab Yichao and run! Now!"
Snapped back to reality, Zhuo Xiong heaved the unconscious Yichao onto his shoulder and ran. Back at their shelter, Yichao lay pale, lips blue, and limbs cold. Zha Wenbin checked his vital signs—heartbeat and breath were still there. Zhuo Xiong turned Yichao on his stomach across his knees and patted his back, making him cough out water. Moments later, when Yichao regained consciousness, he gestured weakly that he was okay. From a distance, they saw the water spout subside after about fifteen minutes. And just like that, the moonlight faded as clouds closed up. Then came the rain—a heavy downpour.
Their aging shelter began leaking, and Zha Wenbin instructed Zhuo Xiong to make a fire to care for Yichao, then grabbed his flashlight and rushed back outside to search for their two missing companions.
At the ancient well, besides the muddy ground, he found a pink hairpin lying nearby. Zha Wenbin picked it up, wiped off the mud, and felt his heart tighten. Clutching the hairpin, he called out, "Professor Wang! Yiran! Can you hear me?" Standing in the pouring rain, he shouted desperately into the well. Only the relentless rainfall answered him. The seemingly bottomless well revealed nothing—the flashlight's beam disappeared into darkness as if swallowed by an abyss. Zha Wenbin stood paralyzed, unsure what to do, letting the rain soak him completely.
Suddenly, remembering the hairpin in his hand—undoubtedly belonging to Leng Yiran—Zha Wenbin had an idea. Without bothering to wipe away the rain, he pulled a talisman paper from his pocket and cast it into the air. Remarkably, the paper ignited despite the downpour and slowly floated down into the ancient well. Watching this, Zha Wenbin's tense heart finally relaxed slightly. With one last glance at the well, he turned and headed back to check on Yichao.
Back at the shelter, Yichao had regained consciousness and was leaning against a door panel by the fire. Apart from constant sneezing, he appeared to have recovered significantly. Before Yichao could speak, Zha Wenbin announced words that excited everyone present: "They're still alive! At least the girl is still alive!" He then turned to add more dry wooden boards to the fire.
"Still alive?!" The previously slumped Yichao struggled to his feet, his once dispersed gaze instantly focusing with hope. Zhuo Xiong quickly supported him, and both men looked expectantly at Zha Wenbin.
Zha Wenbin added more fuel to the fire before opening his clenched fist to reveal the pink hairpin resting in his palm. "I found this by the well earlier. They—at least the girl—must be down in the well. I lit a life-seeking talisman. If the owner of this hairpin is still alive, the talisman would burn. If not, then..."
Yichao pushed himself up with both hands and eagerly asked, "Did it burn?"
"Yes, it did, and the paper floated in the direction of the well," Zha Wenbin replied while poking at the firewood.
Yichao and Zhuo Xiong exchanged relieved smiles before asking, "What does that mean, Wenbin? That it floated toward the well?"
Zha Wenbin looked at the two men, saying firmly, "If they're still alive, they must be down there in the well! Yichao, what exactly did you encounter down there?"
By now, He Yichao had mostly recovered, and the encouraging news had revitalized his hope. His facial color had gradually returned to normal as he recalled his experience in the well.
When Yichao first approached the water's surface, he hadn't noticed anything unusual. Relying on his lung capacity developed during his military service in Tibet, he took a deep breath and dove underwater. He wore a tactical headlamp that normally provided visibility up to twenty meters underwater, but in this ancient well, he could see less than one meter ahead—nothing but a white haze. He could only descend by feel. At about fifteen meters down, Yichao suddenly felt something rise from below. Before he could react, a large, slimy mass enveloped his head. He lost his breath, and the thing entered his mouth. Instinctively, Yichao drew his knife and began slashing at whatever was in front of him while tugging the rope to signal those above to pull him out. At that moment, a powerful current surged from below, carrying him back up and out of the well, where he landed hard on the ground and lost consciousness.
The next thing he knew, he woke up in the shelter. Zhuo Xiong continued the story: "When you tugged the rope, I started pulling you up. Initially, it was so heavy that I couldn't manage alone—Wenbin had to help. Together, we barely kept you from sinking further. Then suddenly the rope went slack, the well started gushing water, and you came flying out. Wenbin, do you think Yichao encountered the Well Dragon King?"
Yichao glared at Zhuo Xiong: "There's no such thing as a Well Dragon King. It felt like a mass of algae to me."
"Don't dismiss it so quickly," Zhuo Xiong insisted. "When I was a child, I used to sneak off to swim in the river during summer. Whenever my father caught me, he'd punish me, saying there were River Dragon Kings in the rivers and Well Dragon Kings in the wells. Offend them, and they'd drag you under to drown. People often disappeared in our local river—the elders would say they were taken by water ghosts to play chess with the Dragon King!" He looked to Zha Wenbin, hoping the Daoist would validate his beliefs.
Yichao scoffed at Zhuo Xiong: "Stop with these superstitions. Your father only said that because—"
"Enough, both of you!" Zha Wenbin interrupted. "Yichao, rest well. Zhuo Xiong and I will take turns keeping watch. When dawn comes, we'll investigate further. That's the plan." With that, Zha Wenbin gathered some dry kindling and moved toward the doorway, where he sat by a small fire he'd built under the eaves.
The two men looked at each other, wondering what was bothering the Daoist. Rather than press the issue, they lay down to rest, leaving Zha Wenbin alone with his thoughts by the fire. Perhaps Zhuo Xiong's mention of drowning had triggered memories of his own daughter who had drowned as a child? No one knew for certain, because since leaving his home, Zha Wenbin had never spoken about his family. He gazed at the two sleeping men inside, then turned to stare at the distant well, remaining vigilant until dawn broke.
When Zha Wenbin awoke to the melodious birdsong, he was astonished to discover that not only had the rain stopped, but the heavy fog had lifted as well. Most remarkably, birds were now chirping throughout the village. Looking up, he saw a clear blue sky without a single cloud. The surrounding mountains were lush with greenery, as if the entire place had come alive overnight. Zha Wenbin rubbed his eyes to ensure he wasn't dreaming, then hurried inside to wake the others. Without time for breakfast, the three men rushed back to the ancient well.
Perhaps due to long abandonment or the previous night's heavy rainfall, small streams had formed throughout the village, apparently flowing down from the surrounding mountains. But they had no time to appreciate the post-rain beauty.
Yichao turned on his tactical light and shone it down into the well: darkness was all they could see. The moss along the well's edge uniformly pointed upward, testament to the force of last night's water surge. Like all wells, this one had a visible water level line about five meters down. Currently, there was no water above this line, but they couldn't see what lay deeper. Having already tried and failed to descend into the well the previous night, they were reluctant to attempt this method again. As they stood around the well, uncertain how to proceed, Zhuo Xiong noticed a small stone by his foot and picked it up: "I have an idea! Let's drop a stone and listen for the echo—that should tell us how deep the well is!" He was about to throw it when Zha Wenbin stopped him: "What if our missing friends are down there? You could kill them with that rock!"
Zhuo Xiong looked at the tennis ball-sized stone in his hand, gauged its weight, and sheepishly put it back down. Zha Wenbin glanced at the stone and asked Yichao, "How long is your rope?"
Unsure of Zha Wenbin's intention but accustomed to his cryptic speech, Yichao didn't overthink it. He unfastened the nylon military climbing rope from his body: "It's a hundred meters long. Don't be fooled by its thinness—it can support five to six hundred kilograms."
Zha Wenbin seemed to have formulated a plan: "Yichao, untie one end of your rope, attach the flashlight to it, and add a small stone. Then slowly lower it into the well..."
"Brilliant idea, Wenbin! I'm on it!" Yichao responded enthusiastically.
The taut climbing rope, weighted with a stone and flashlight, slowly descended into the ancient well under Yichao's careful control. Within visible range, they noticed only water plants growing along the well's walls—nothing else unusual. After twenty meters, they still hadn't heard the sound of the weight hitting water, and visual distinction became increasingly difficult at this depth. Yichao continued lowering the rope until Zha Wenbin suddenly called out: "Hold it, Yichao! Slowly rotate the rope. I think at the depth you reached yesterday, the well walls look different from above."
Following instructions, Yichao carefully rotated the rope, allowing the flashlight to illuminate the circumference of the ancient well. At this distance, even Yichao's trained scout eyes couldn't discern anything unusual, but Zha Wenbin had spotted something. Indeed, there were bas-relief carvings on the well wall. Having been submerged for so long and eroded by aquatic plants, these carvings were now indistinct. Yet Zha Wenbin found them strangely familiar, as if he'd seen them somewhere before, though he couldn't identify what they depicted. After examining these carvings, he instructed Yichao to continue lowering the rope. In the next few meters, Zha Wenbin spotted different patterns of lines, until they descended beyond even his exceptional vision.
When only the knot in Yichao's hand remained of the rope, they still hadn't reached the bottom of the well. Could the ancient well truly be over a hundred meters deep? Yichao muttered in disbelief: "Why would anyone dig such a deep well in a basin? Zhuo Xiong, your ancestors were truly extraordinary!" Hearing Yichao criticizing his heritage again, Zhuo Xiong's neck stiffened in preparation to defend himself: "My... my family..." But he found himself at a loss for words. Indeed, who were his ancestors? How could he explain the strange phenomena in this place? Like Yichao, he too harbored doubts, but could only stammer "I..." before giving up, hanging his head in resignation.
Since they couldn't reach the bottom, they pulled up the rope—only to discover that the end was completely dry!
"It's dry! Wenbin, look—the end is dry! There's no water in the well? After all that water last night, it's now dry? How is that possible...?"
Yichao collapsed to the ground, staring at the dry flashlight in disbelief. Zha Wenbin picked up the rope and examined it—indeed, it was dry. The well contained no water. Had all the water been expelled during last night's geyser-like eruption? Why? Looking at the nylon climbing rope, which consisted of four strands twisted together, Zha Wenbin had an idea: "Yichao, let's separate both ropes into two strands each and connect them. We'll try again."
They immediately set to work, and soon had created a 400-meter line. Once again, they attached the flashlight and stone, then lowered it into the well. Fifty meters, one hundred meters, one hundred fifty meters—the markings on the rope indicated they'd descended 150 meters, but still hadn't reached bottom! They exchanged worried glances and continued. Two hundred meters! Seeing they'd already descended 200 meters, they could only pray this accursed well would soon end. Two hundred fifty meters, and still no end! Suddenly, Yichao felt the rope go slack—no longer sinking. They'd reached the bottom!
Yichao excitedly announced: "We've hit bottom! Finally!" Zha Wenbin and Zhuo Xiong gathered around: "How deep is it?" Yichao slowly pulled the rope back up until he felt the stone lift off the ground, then checked the markings: "Exactly 270 meters! Goddamn, that's deep! Two hundred and seventy meters—can you believe it?"
Zha Wenbin took the rope, verified the measurement, and sighed: "If I'm not mistaken, this well was deliberately constructed to this exact depth."
Zhuo Xiong asked incredulously: "Are you saying someone intentionally dug a well precisely 270 meters deep?"
Gazing at the blue sky and surveying the nearby buildings, Zha Wenbin explained: "Yes. Two hundred and seventy meters equals eighty-one zhang in ancient Chinese measurements. In feng shui, when the number nine completes its cycle, it naturally returns to one. When two nines appear—that is, eighty-one—it represents cyclical renewal. Ancient Chinese builders often used nine as their maximum numerical value, representing the ultimate or supreme. To achieve 'nine returning to one' and 'ultimate success,' one must progress through 'one, four, seven; three, six, nine'—step by step. Nine returning to one means returning to the origin, achieving a form of transcendence, rebirth, and transformation—marking a new beginning! I'm beginning to understand the purpose of those ritual buildings. We may have stumbled into an elaborate trap set by our ancestors. I don't fully comprehend the intention behind it, but it seems we've all become pieces in some greater game!"
"Pieces? Are you suggesting we've been manipulated by someone?"
"It's not that we've been manipulated by people—I'm afraid we've been calculated into a divine plan. There were five of us when we started this journey. To achieve perfect completion, a single 'nine' isn't enough—we also need a 'five.' Only when nine and five come together can supreme power be achieved."
Zha Wenbin's words were enigmatic. His two companions were at a loss. When it comes to ghosts and spirits, believers will believe, and skeptics will remain skeptical. But now they faced undeniable facts: Who would build several ancestral halls as funeral parlors, complete with bronze coffins and giant lodestones? Who would dig an eighty-one zhang deep well just for drinking water—surely they weren't drilling for oil in those ancient times? Who would build a village in a place that never sees starlight for a thousand years, and why was it now completely abandoned? What family would choose ancient ferocious beasts as door guardians? When everything transcends ordinary understanding, one can only resort to non-materialistic and transcendental concepts. In Zha Wenbin's world, there were always things that could be explained and things that needed no explanation. Clearly, what they were facing now fell into the latter category—inexplicable mysteries that required them to simply take one step at a time.
Were they fighting against humans or against heaven? Was it predestined fate or mere coincidence? In these unknown realms, those of us with limited knowledge always seem so insignificant.
The ancient well that had been full of water last night was now dry to the bottom. All clues seemed to have disappeared, but time was running out. If they couldn't find their missing companions by the end of the day, they might never see them again. Looking at the pile of rope by the well, Zha Wenbin considered going down himself. But was it even possible to descend more than two hundred meters? Even if the rope was long enough, would there be enough air down there?
Situations often change unexpectedly. While Zha Wenbin was contemplating their predicament, he noticed a small detail.
Zhuo Xiong offered He Yichao a cigarette—smoking and drinking being men's two great distractions during troubled times. He Yichao, feeling equally frustrated, sat by the well, took several deep drags, and casually rested his cigarette hand on the well's edge.
Every man has his own way of smoking, and consequently, his own way of flicking ash. He Yichao was the type who constantly tapped his cigarette to remove the ash, which naturally fell into the ancient well. As he neared the end of his cigarette, Zha Wenbin noticed something unusual—the ash sticking to the edge of the well was trembling, as if about to fly away. He moved closer and gently pressed his cheek against the well opening, feeling the fine hairs on his face quivering slightly. "There's wind! There's wind coming from the well!"
His excited exclamation startled He Yichao, who jumped up from the well's edge and lunged into Zhuo Xiong's arms. "A ghost? Where's the ghost?! Is there a ghost in the well?" This reaction made Zhuo Xiong burst into laughter: "Yes, there's a ghost in the well, and it was just about to tickle your butt with its long, black, hairy claws..."
Watching these two jokers fooling around at such a critical moment, Zha Wenbin couldn't even muster any annoyance. "Yichao, come over and look—there's wind in the well, which means the air is circulating. Doesn't that suggest that there must be a connection between the bottom and some other place? Light another cigarette and gently flick some ash into the well to test it."
Zhuo Xiong already had a cigarette between his lips. He removed the crumpled butt and held his hand directly over the well, gently tapping it. The ash drifted downward as all three men intently watched these normally insignificant specks. What took only an instant seemed to stretch like an entire century.
The grayish-white ash carried their hopes as it fell, but before it even entered the well, it scattered to the sides, landing on the well's edge. Another flick produced an even more obvious result—several clumps of ash swirled around the well's mouth and began floating upward.
Zhuo Xiong couldn't contain his excitement and flicked a few more times with the same result. "There really is wind! Wenbin, how did you notice this?"
Zha Wenbin pointed at the cigarette in his mouth and smiled. "It was thanks to the cigarette you gave Yichao. I was still hesitating about what to do, but now we can be almost certain that there's at least air down there. Yichao, didn't you say your rope could support several hundred kilograms? Would these two separated strands hold the weight of one person?"
He Yichao picked up the rope from the ground and gave it a few strong tugs. "Don't underestimate this rope. Even split into two strands, each can still support up to 400 jin (about 200 kg). It's not just enough for one person—it could hold two!"
Near the ancient well stood an old pine tree, thick enough that it would take two men's arms to encircle it. Zha Wenbin walked over and kicked it a few times—it didn't budge. "Yichao, tie the rope to this tree. I'll go down first to check things out. If everything's okay, I'll signal you two to follow. If I go down and you don't hear from me, you both need to leave this mountain immediately and never return to this village. Understood?" After speaking, he picked up the rope, walked to the tree, and tied a secure knot. He pulled hard to ensure it was stable before approaching the well.
Zhuo Xiong and He Yichao stepped forward to block his path. "Wenbin, we're both trained scouts. If anyone should go first, it should be us."
"That's right, Wenbin. Yichao and I served in Tibet and are experienced in mountaineering. The situation down there is unclear, and you don't have much experience with this kind of thing. I think I should go down first."
Zha Wenbin patted them both on the shoulder. These two young men had shown him great respect throughout their journey together. But He Yichao had already nearly lost his life going down once, and Mr. He had already lost his wife—Yichao couldn't be put at risk again. As for Zhuo Xiong, he was Old Zhuo's only son, and his responsibility was simply to be their guide. He had fulfilled his duty by bringing them to the village, and there was no reason to drag him into this dangerous situation. Even if what awaited below was the depths of hell itself, Zha Wenbin would have to go alone.
Looking at the sky, Zha Wenbin knew they had about an hour before daybreak, after which new complications might arise. "Enough discussion. I'm going down first. You two keep watch up here. If anything happens, fire a warning shot. If I find it's safe down there, Yichao can follow me. Zhuo Xiong, you stay up here as our lookout. I'll tug the rope three times to signal that I've reached the bottom."
"No way, Wenbin! I'm going down first—I have more experience with this!" He Yichao grabbed the rope and started to secure it around himself, but Zha Wenbin snatched it back.
"Listen to me, Yichao. If it's just a matter of navigating flat terrain down there, I can handle it myself. But what if we encounter something supernatural? Do you think your military training prepared you for that? This village is full of strange entities we've never seen before, and this well is at the very center of it all!" To dissuade any further argument, Zha Wenbin added, "I've calculated the fortunes, and today your birth charts aren't strong enough. It has to be me who goes down first!" Of course, this last claim was purely to intimidate them.
He Yichao angrily crushed his cigarette butt. "Zhuo Xiong, secure the rope. I'll help him with the safety harness." He proceeded to tie professional climbing knots for Zha Wenbin and fitted him with a tactical headlamp. Concerned about potential challenges, Zha Wenbin stuffed all his belongings into his Eight Trigrams bag and hung it around his neck, gripping his ceremonial seal in his right hand. After confirming their signals one last time, with the two men holding the rope, he prepared to descend into the well.
Before departing, Zha Wenbin embraced both men. On level ground, a 270-meter journey would take just a minute or two to walk, but in this pitch-black, vertical descent into an unknown underground well, he had no idea how long it would take. He Yichao served as the human pulley at the well's mouth, with Zhuo Xiong providing a second safety line behind him. Zha Wenbin took a deep breath, positioned himself feet-first, and began slowly descending into the ancient well, instantly surrounded by the cold embrace of the unknown.
When he had descended about four meters, Zha Wenbin tugged the rope twice—their signal to pause. He could now clearly see the lines that had been barely visible from above. Brushing away the moss, he revealed patterns that appeared to be deliberately carved into the heavily water-eroded well wall. As more moss fell away, confused lines gradually emerged. Despite severe water damage, the deep carvings were still discernible—lines of varying lengths and thicknesses, with small holes deliberately punctured in certain areas, creating a dense pattern. Zha Wenbin felt these lines were familiar, as if he'd seen them somewhere before.
He ran his fingers over these ancient carvings, closed his eyes, and committed them to memory, forming an image in his mind. Rotating on the rope, he continued exploring. After completing a full circle, his finger touched a relatively large hole. Opening his eyes suddenly, he stared at that point. During his circuit, he had found four holes of identical size, the largest in the entire pattern. A massive picture rapidly assembled in his mind.
Zha Wenbin reached a conclusion: what was carved here was a map of the village above! The entire image was fish-shaped, with the village layout drawn on the fish's body. The four large holes represented the four funeral parlors guarded by ferocious beasts, with the well he was in marking the center. The horizontal lines depicted the winding paths through the village, while the small dots indicated houses. What astounded him most was that when he mentally completed the image, he realized the village was a perfect representation of the Eight Trigrams!
The Eight Trigrams diagram consists of two fish—one black and one white—representing yin and yang. The deep well he was in was merely an eye on one of these fish. According to the diagram, the village was positioned in the realm of yang, which meant this well represented the yin realm within yang—the underworld within the living world!
In the Eight Trigrams, the black fish has a white dot, and the white fish has a black dot. These two colors represent the yin and yang aspects, heaven and earth; the boundary between black and white is the human realm that divides heaven, earth, yin, and yang. The white dot in the black fish symbolizes yang within yin, while the black dot in the white fish symbolizes yin within yang. "Dao begets One" refers to Wuji (Limitless) producing Taiji (Supreme Ultimate); "One begets Two" refers to Taiji producing the Two Modes (yin and yang); "Two begets Three" refers to the interaction and fusion of yin and yang; "Three begets all things" means that Taiji contains three aspects as one, and since all things are created through yin and yang, each thing contains its own Taiji—meaning Taiji includes not only the aspects of yin and yang but also the boundary and standard that defines them!
Zha Wenbin realized how truly limited his knowledge was. What kind of place was this? Who possessed such immense mystical powers? How many formations awaited him here? As he hung suspended in mid-air, lost in thought and unresponsive for too long, those above grew concerned. He Yichao shouted down into the well: "Wenbin! Is everything alright?" The call brought him back to reality. He rubbed his hands together vigorously, preparing to continue his descent.
---
Chinese Words/Phrases in Chapter 12 The Descent
Characters and People
- Zha Wenbin (查文斌) - Main character, a Daoist practitioner
- He Yichao (何毅超) - Military-trained character
- Zhuo Xiong (卓雄) - Guide, son of Old Zhuo
- Leng Yiran (冷易然) - Female character who fell into the well
- Professor Wang (王教授) -Archaeological team leader
Daoist Concepts and Terms
- Eight Trigrams (八卦) - Fundamental philosophical concept in Daoism representing cosmic principles
- Yin and Yang (阴阳) - Complementary opposing forces in Chinese philosophy
- Dao begets One (道生一) - Philosophical concept from Dao De Jing
- Wuji (无极) - "Limitless" or "Without Ultimate" concept in Daoism
- Taiji (太极) - "Supreme Ultimate" in Chinese cosmology
- Feng Shui (风水) - Chinese geomancy system
Numerical/Measurement Concepts
- Eighty-one zhang (八十一丈) - Traditional Chinese measurement unit (1 zhang ≈ 3.33 meters)
- 400 jin (400斤) - Traditional Chinese weight measurement (1 jin ≈ 0.5 kg)
- "One, four, seven; three, six, nine" (一四七,三六九) - Pattern reference in numerology
Supernatural Entities
- Well Dragon King (井龙王) - Mythological water deity believed to inhabit wells
- River Dragon King (河龙王) - Mythological water deity believed to inhabit rivers
- Water ghosts (水鬼) - Spirits of those who died by drowning
Ritual Items
- Talisman paper/Life-seeking talisman (符纸/寻命符) - Magical papers used in Daoist rituals
- Ceremonial seal (法印) - Ritual implement used by Daoist practitioners
- Eight Trigrams bag (八卦袋) - Bag containing Daoist ritual implements
Philosophical Concepts
- "Nine returning to one" (九归一) - Concept of cyclical completion and renewal
- "Ultimate success" (大成) - Concept of achieving the highest level of accomplishment
- "Yin realm within yang" (阳中之阴) - Cosmological concept of opposing forces within each other