The second madman

Tashi Damba noticed Fang Xin's surprised expression and, with a touch of pride, explained, "Yes, it's from Lhasa. It didn't cost much."

Fang Xin replied, "But military charters don't land at Lhasa Airport. They use a special military airfield nearby, which is still some distance from the city."

"What?" This time, Tashi Damba was the one caught off guard. "I… I didn't know. I've never chartered one before. I assumed they all landed at Lhasa Airport." He scratched his head nervously, realizing that his staff, who had arranged the charter to please the professor, had failed to inform him of this crucial detail.

Fang Xin reassured him, "No need to worry. I'll make a call. I have some connections in the Tibetan Military District. The last time I flew to Tibet, it was on a plane arranged by one of their commanders, so I know the situation."

Tashi quickly interjected, "No, no need for that. We'll just arrange for someone to pick us up when we land."

Fang Xin said, "They might not be familiar with the area. Let's have the airport handle the arrangements for us. That way, we don't have to go into Lhasa. We can head straight south from the airfield—whether it's to your home first or to Menghe." He then made a phone call to his contact, who was out of town but promised to arrange everything. Fang Xin did not yet realize that Tashi Damba's ability to secure a military charter indicated significant connections in Tibet.

The two boarded the military aircraft in Shanghai, heading westward to the sacred highlands of Tibet.

At a regiment of the Tibetan Military District, Commander Banjo Tsering, a native of the region, was a tall and burly man with a square face, broad mouth, and thick eyebrows under which his piercing eyes exuded an air of authority. He had just finished lunch when a soldier reported, "Sir, there's a call from higher-ups. A certain professor will be arriving on a chartered A3097 at the military airfield. They'll be heading to Menghe directly from the airport and have requested arrangements for transportation."

Banjo Tsering rubbed his slightly rounded belly and asked, "When will the plane arrive?"

The soldier replied, "In about twenty minutes."

Tsering turned to a young officer beside him and said, "Lieutenant Zhang, you and Huang go to the airfield and check it out. After all, he's a friend of the higher-ups."

Lieutenant Zhang Li, a deputy officer assigned to the Tibetan Military District for two years, was a highly skilled and valiant member of the regiment's elite security forces. Standing at 1.76 meters with a broad and muscular frame second only to Commander Tsering, Zhang had chiseled features and sharp, penetrating eyes. Renowned for his close-combat skills and quick thinking, he was unmatched within the regiment. Zhang glanced at the time and said, "But the road to the airfield takes at least thirty minutes, especially after the recent rain. The path isn't in good shape."

Tsering replied, "No rush. Take your time. If they arrive first, they can wait a bit. This isn't exactly an urgent matter. Fang Xin? I think I've heard of him. What does he do?"

Private Huang, already at the door, suddenly remembered something and said, "By the way, Commander, the chartered plane is one of ours."

"Oh," Tsering frowned. "Who else is on board?"

Huang replied, "The crew mentioned it's been chartered by a businessman named Tashi Damba?"

"Damba! Young Master Damba!" Tsering immediately jumped up from his cot, hastily putting on his uniform. "Quick, get the car ready. We need to reach the airfield before the plane lands."

Huang looked at Zhang Li, then hesitantly said, "But the road will take at least thirty minutes, and it's not in good condition…"

Tsering had already reached the door. Turning back sharply, he commanded, "I don't care how you do it. Get to the airfield in twenty minutes!" His glare sent shivers down Huang's spine.

Twenty minutes later, as Tashi Damba's plane approached the airfield, Tsering and his team were already there waiting. Zhang Li, puzzled, asked, "Commander, who exactly is this Young Master Damba?" Addressing him as "Young Master" clearly implied respect, and Zhang dared not speak casually.

Tsering replied, "He's the son of Master Deren. Master Deren is one of the wisest men in southern Tibet, second only to the Living Buddha." He glanced at Zhang's upright stance and added, "Young Master Damba was a two-time champion of the Tibetan Kurbei wrestling tournament. He's taller than you by half a head. Even though you're one of our regiment's elites, in terms of physical combat, you might not stand a chance against him."

As the plane landed, the first to step out was a towering figure with a robust and commanding presence. His stern, resolute face was partially obscured by goggles, and he carried a case in each hand. The wind billowed his light gray coat, accentuating the taut muscles underneath. Following him was a lean, elderly man with graying hair and keen, shrewd eyes that immediately marked him as someone of extraordinary intellect.

Tsering stepped forward with a welcoming smile and lowered his head slightly. "Young Master Damba, welcome back."

Tashi Damba hesitated for a moment before asking, "And you are…?"

Tsering replied, "Tsering, Banjo Tsering. Not long ago, I accompanied Master Deren on a pilgrimage to Mount Kailash. I'd heard you were busy with business abroad, so I didn't expect you to return in person."

Tashi Damba smiled warmly and nodded. He stood taller than Tsering by half a head and towered over the crowd like a formidable bull, making him impossible to overlook.

Fang Xin, observing the interaction, quickly pieced together that Master Deren was Tashi Damba's father—a highly influential figure in southern Tibet, regarded as nearly equal in stature to a Living Buddha. What Fang Xin hadn't realized was that Master Deren's influence had extended even into the military.

Since they were acquaintances, things became much easier to manage. Tsering, due to other obligations, had no choice but to delegate Zhang Li to accompany Tashi Damba and Professor Fang Xin to Menghe. Along the way, he expressed his admiration for them and even escorted them several dozen kilometers beyond the military regiment's base.

As they traveled, a light drizzle began to fall, and the vehicle moved steadily along the roads in the Shannan region. The silence was absolute, with no extraneous sounds save for the hum of the car. The mountain roads were narrow and flanked by cliffs, winding through deep valleys. Professor Fang Xin breathed in the pure air, feeling enveloped by a serene atmosphere. His mind was cleansed, leaving a peaceful clarity. Just hours ago, he had been in China's bustling metropolis, tormented by the dilemma of whether to pursue the honor he had worked his whole life for. Now, like the gentle rain washing away his worries, he felt only a profound reverence and yearning for the primal essence of life. Only Tibet, the world's highest plateau, could evoke such emotions in him. This land had no overwhelming dust, no towering skyscrapers—only pristine air and sacred mountains as pure as celestial maidens.

Tashi Damba, too, was touched by the profound stillness of the environment, though his emotions were different. It had been years since he last returned home. After years of shuttling between major cities, his life had been consumed by his devotion to Tibetan mastiffs; few other things stirred him. Recently, however, someone had unexpectedly moved his heart. Now, back in his homeland, nourished by butter tea and tsampa as a child, the sky still stretched infinitely, and the air retained its familiar freshness. Distant mountains loomed like towering giants, standing proud over the land for millions of years. These mountains nurtured the life on this sacred ground with their pure essence. Yet the land had changed—civilization had taken its colossal strides, entering this final Eden. People came, yearning for its untouched beauty, bringing with them the trappings of progress. This vast paradise was transforming into a modern city. Gone were the untamed herds of wild yaks and sheep in areas where roads had yet to be built. The nomads clad in Tibetan robes, carrying their belongings as they prostrated on pilgrimages, were a rare sight now. As a child, he had brought them food, watching them journey from distant corners of Tibet, bowing with every three steps, their bodies fully prostrated on the ground. Some spent years covering nearly a thousand kilometers this way to reach the holy sanctuaries of Lhasa and Mount Kailash. Others were less fortunate, succumbing to the wilderness along the way. Their ascetic journey, with countless repetitive motions, was driven by a purity and devotion to visit their sacred sites once in a lifetime.

As they passed Yamdrok Lake, Zhang Li, the driver, proudly introduced it to the passengers. "This is Tibet's famous Yamdrok Lake, known in Tibetan as the Coral Lake. It branches out like coral and shines with brilliant colors, as beautiful as coral itself. According to local legends, it's…" He stopped abruptly upon noticing, through the rearview mirror, that his passengers had closed their eyes and pressed their hands together in prayer. They understood the sanctity of this "celestial eye" better than he did.

They crossed Yamdrok Lake and turned westward, heading toward the Shigatse region.

Menghe, a remote village within a local administrative unit, was little more than an obscure cluster of homes. Covering six to seven kilometers in width and over ten kilometers in length, the village nestled in the mountains featured a single main street flanked by a residential area with nearly a hundred households.

The mountain roads were rugged, and by the time Tashi Damba and the others reached Menghe, night was falling. After asking the locals, they found the village madman. Zhang Li frowned upon seeing the man, whose hair was matted, and clothes tattered. He wore a filthy Tibetan robe with a sleeveless black vest over it, and a six-armed bodhisattva pendant hung around his neck. The man lay on a greasy, foul-smelling blanket littered with scraps of food. Zhang kept his distance, unwilling to approach further.

Professor Fang Xin, however, was taken aback. The yellow six-armed bodhisattva pendant alone, regardless of whether it was made of copper or gold, was a cultural and historical treasure. It appeared to be a statue from the reign of the 31st Tibetan king, its value incalculable. At an auction in Shanghai, such an artifact would easily start in the millions. Moreover, the filthy blanket bore a faded but discernible embroidered scene of Buddha's Flower Sermon, with figures like Mahakasyapa, Brahma, Garuda, and Ksitigarbha depicted alongside Avalokiteshvara. The craftsmanship suggested it was a Song Dynasty-era thangka, a priceless artifact. Even the man's headgear and waist accessories, though seemingly worn and tattered, were of extraordinary quality.

Tashi Damba, unbothered by the man's filth, crouched beside him and asked eagerly, "Have you seen a dog? This tall, black, with a lion's mane? Its eyes are…"

The man gave no response, merely smacked his lips and turned to face the wall, presenting his back to Tashi. Extending a hand covered in black grime, he reached toward Tashi. Thinking he wanted money, Tashi quickly pulled out his wallet. "Is it money you need? How much? Two hundred? Or three hundred?"

Placing the money in the man's palm, Tashi was startled when the man slapped the bills away and grinned foolishly, hand still outstretched. A passerby intervened, "He doesn't recognize money. What use is it to him? He's asking for food."

Tashi immediately instructed Zhang Li to find some food. In the village, there were no proper eateries, but Zhang somehow managed to procure a few dozen tsampa balls made with butter and a couple of slices of dried beef. Offering a tsampa ball to the man, Tashi asked, "Where are you from?"

The man said nothing, unafraid of the heat as he stuffed the tsampa into his mouth. Smiling foolishly, he extended his hand for more. Tashi handed him two more, asking, "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

The man remained silent, eating and smiling. As Tashi reached for more food, Fang Xin grabbed his arm, shaking his head. "This isn't working. He's ignoring us completely. Let's ask around—has he always been like this?"

Locals confirmed that the madman had been this way since arriving, occasionally grabbing at people's clothing when desperate for food, but he had never spoken a word. Tashi felt a chill—was Fang Xin's prediction correct? Was this not the madman they were looking for? But then Fang Xin said, "I'm 90% sure this is the man Tang Tao encountered. The question is, how do we get him to talk?"

Zhang Li suggested, "It's getting late. Why don't we head back and think of a plan for tomorrow?"

Tashi asked, "Professor, how can you be so sure?" Both spoke at once, their words overlapping. Tashi repeated his question. Fang Xin replied, "This man has many rare items on him. He must come from a place that's largely isolated from the outside world. Otherwise, these valuable objects wouldn't be in his possession. This isn't a madman from a developed area."

"Ah!" Tashi exclaimed, realizing he hadn't considered this angle. Zhang Li, however, was startled. Did the professor believe that such filthy items were actually valuable?

At that moment, the madman noticed the tsampa in Tashi's hand and tried to grab it. Tashi instinctively deflected, his quick reflexes pressing the man's hand down and grabbing his robe. As the madman pulled away, his neckline exposed a tattoo on his chest. Tashi froze, exclaiming, "You're from the Goba tribe! You're a Goba tribesman!"