Jade Fire | Origins of The Great Wall

“August 15th, 1790.

“The shadows had grown long as I set quill to journal amidst the dying light, taking shelter within my tent upon the fringes of China’s many mysteries; The Great Wall. It has always been my driven ambition to untangle such mysteries, yet entering Qing territory poses challenges. British interests steadily encroach upon China’s borders as East India Company assets expand, fostering ever-growing tensions atwixt our peoples.

“Our expedition party has made camp for the evening amongst the towering cliffs defining this northern expanse. Though the ravages of time have worn away much of the Wall’s former glory, there remains an air of enduring mystique about these ancient ruins that stirs my scholarly imagination.

“Today, my company and I explored its crumbling western bastions under the clearest skies. As our horses picked through weathered stone, we imparted histories this structure had stood witness to for millennia untold. Once a stronghold, guarding passes through these rugged mountains, are now a skeleton framed against stark peaks.

“Walking the Wall’s length, one cannot help but note strategic flaws seeming almost purposeful in hindsight. Towers stand not as impregnable citadels but markers along some greater route, pathways more guiding string than hindering barrage. I find myself equally enthralled and wondering, what purpose drove such monumental labours? What spectres still walk where steps have long ceased?

“Had defence from northern invaders truly been the sole aim, would passages not be fewer, fortresses firmer? Instead, staircases spiral open as welcoming arms, splits in the stone, direct footfalls surely as saplings leaning into the breeze.

“I proposed these paths initially served not to repulse outside forces, but safeguard controlled passage of those within. If remote villagers or wandering prospectors strayed from valued roadmaps, steep terrain and wilderness would swallow them... yet the Great Wall provided salvation, leading lost souls back to route home.”

Quentin Trevelyan paused in his writing, closing his leatherbound journal and setting aside the quill. The sun was setting in a brilliant orange glow through the canvas tent flap, casting shadows across his worn writing desk, dusk fell heavy outside the tent.

Just then, booted footsteps approached from beyond the flap, accompanied by murmurs in Mandarin. Preparing himself, Quentin doused the flame from the candle lamp.

The canvas parted to reveal a Chinese servant the expedition had hired to aid in their travels. He bowed respectfully, speaking in halting but earnest English: “Saw-ree to disturb. But visitor here. Tā de míng zì jiào- His name—Jīn Yuè Lóng. Want to speak with you, about wall. Lái, he outside.”

Quentin’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He didn’t expect anyone outside of his company all the way out here.

He tucked away his journal and quill before grasping his walking stick and rising to follow. “Very well, take me to him post-haste. And thank you for translating—your English is beginning to improve.”

He ducked through the tent flap and into the fading golden light, eyes scanning the camp for any sign of their mysterious guest. He was led away a little farther than he was comfortable with, closer to the Great Wall before the servant parted. A lone figure caught his attention then, standing aloof with hands clasped behind his back.

“Jin Yue Long?” Quentin called out, striding over to meet the man.

At the call of his name, a faint smirk playing at the edge of the Chinese man’s lips as his eyes swept over the Englishman approaching. He nodded once in confirmation, replying in accented but fluent English. “Pronounced Jīn Yuè Lóng. I am a scholar representing Guó Zǐ Jiàn—the Imperial University of Beijing. I have heard much of your expedition and its search for answers regarding The Great Wall’s origins. We both seek to uncover the mysteries of these ancient stones. Tell me, what secrets have your investigations found so far?”

Quentin met the other man’s keen gaze steadily, though internally his mind raced at the possibility that this other scholar may provide insight to aid their efforts. He was excited to share.

“Until now, our discoveries have been limited. However, upon scaling the northern cliff two days past, I believe we have detected markers hinting at something far more intriguing lying concealed behind the rock face. For years, I believed they kept out barbarians and invaders, but this section of the Great Wall shows significant promise of another possibility.” Quentin continued, launching into a detailed recounting of the weathered carvings, buried just out of plain sight, seeming to suggest the outline of a structured entry or hidden stronghold from ages past within the Wall itself.

Jin Yue Long nodded along attentively. But when Quentin finished, the scholar seemed to mull something over internally.

Quentin continued. “Have you any knowledge to corroborate this finding? Perhaps insights that could guide us to uncovering whatever mysteries may lie beneath?”

“I think excavating a fortified site could stir dangers better left undisturbed. Perhaps a new path of inquiry may yield more. As I travelled, local nomads spoke of strange markings along the eastern river, far more ancient than even the Wall. Have your men searched in that direction?”

Quentin noted the subtle redirection with piqued interest and tapped his cane contemplatively. “Nomads do love their tales... Though, something in your tone gives me pause. Out with it—what secrets are you trying so keenly to hide? I’ve come this far seeking answers; I’ll not be turned aside by vagaries and folklore now.”

A dark expression passed over Jin Yue Long’s face as he realised Quentin would not be swayed. From within his robes, a glint of steel flashed as his hand darted forth quicker than the eye could trace.

But Quentin was no stranger to danger in his line of work. His walking stick swung up to intercept the blade mere inches from his throat. “What are you doing? Stand down, man!”

Jin Yue Long ignored the command, pressing forward with deadly intent. Quentin parried another strike, then spun his cane in a disarming manoeuvre that sent his opponent’s dagger flying. Without a second thought, he turned and fled toward the towering cliffs.

Quentin’s boots pounded over the rough ground as Jin Yue Long pursued. Seeking cover, Quentin grabbed handholds in the Wall’s face and began to climb, bits of stone raining down in his wake. He pulled himself over the top to find the remnants of the Wall stretching as far as the eye could see under the rising moon. Somewhere behind, an enraged shout echoed—Jin Yue Long was fast gaining. Quentin caught his breath and set off into the night, keeping to the centuries of stone as his new enemy gave chase. The sun had set fully now, bathing the ruins of the Great Wall in indigo shadow.

“Bù xíng! Get away from the Wall!” Jin Yue Long bellowed, an edge of panic in his voice as he gained ground.

Though out of breath, Quentin risked a shout back over his shoulder: ”You get away!”

A whistling sound cut the air behind as Jin Yue Long hurled his dagger end over end. Quentin threw himself forward just in time to feel the blade whistle past his ear. He rolled to his feet and redoubled his speed, reaching out to feel along the aged stones for the carved indentations—there!

With a final exertion, Quentin wrenched aside a slab of rock, throwing himself into the darkness beyond.

The echoes of pursuit died away as the stone slab slid shut behind Quentin, plunging him into utter blackness. He leaned against the stone, gasping for breath as his eyes strained to adjust in the inky dark.

After a long moment, he began to make out the barest outlines of a corridor stretching ahead. Cautiously, he lifted his cane and tapped it against the tunnel walls, feeling out the path. An unnatural scrabbling and stirring arose from the dark at the sound, freezing Quentin in his tracks. Slow, heavy footfalls approached from the gloom ahead.

Quentin steeled his nerves. Lifting his cane like a club, he advanced warily into the black, leaving his would-be assassin outside. As his pulse slowed, he could hear Jin Yue Long’s warning calls within the Wall itself.

His pace quickened, then paused to scrape moss and rubble from a section of wall, striking flint to provide a small flame in his cupped hands. By its flickering light, he made out patterns etched into the weathered stone. Interlocking spirals and angular motifs wound across the surface in concentric shapes, ochre remnants of some long-forgotten ideograms. He traced a few with reverent fingers, noticing chipped sections where characters had once been carved entirely.

He withdrew a small journal and sketched the designs by flamelight in haste. Further along, where the tunnel sloped downward, more flourishing motifs came into view.

Antlered beasts and stick-figured shamans engaged in esoteric rituals, their acts catching his eye. He committed the peculiar petroglyphs to paper, analysing their intentional placement lining the passage. Some archaic narrative or invocative function must have been served, though its meaning was veiled.

The stale, sulphurous air grew heavier as Quentin descended, his flickering light bending strange shadows from the ritualistic art. The tunnel sloped sharply now, its walls encroaching until he could barely stand upright. Ahead, an unnatural emerald glow pulsed and faded in time with his pounding heartbeat. Quentin rounded the final bend and froze in awe and dread at the sight before him; The passage opened onto a vast vaulted cavern, its heights vanishing into darkness. Flickering pillars of jade fire lined stone aisles, illuminating nightmare scenes etched upon ancient pillars rising from a sunken pit.

As Quentin gazed upon the visceral depictions of blood sacrifice and eldritch ceremonies, comprehension dawned in horror. The Hundred Ghouls, cunning Spirits, ghosts and corpses that cease decay. These were no pagan fertility rites, but blasphemous invocations of nameless demons from the Yellow Springs—ancient China’s version of the underworld, a realm of innumerable graves.

When Quentin tilted his chin down further, he paled. There it was, carved on ancient stone by the pit was 鬼門關 (Guǐmén guān). The Gate of the Ghosts.

He staggered back against the earthen wall, journal falling unheeded as the glyphs took on a sinister throb in the unearthly light. The journals’ fluttering pages seemed to echo endlessly down the aisles as Quentin backed away in dread. Beyond the pulsing firelight, a scraping sounded from the passage entrance and Quentin paused as a figure emerged into the eldritch gloom.

“Jin Yue Long! ” Quentin cried hoarsely, brandishing his cane before him like a talisman against the nameless evil seeping from the cavern walls.

His would-be assassin ignored his yell, stepping nimbly down the sloping path with the ease of familiarity, dagger glinting in one hand. Quentin tensed as Jin Yue Long stopped just out of reach, regarding him with cold calculation.

“What pageantry of hell is this? Explain!” Quentin demanded, trembling only slightly as the flickering fires cast stark shadows across the Chinaman’s features.

Jin Yue Long slowly circled Quentin with measured steps, glancing between the trapped man and the flickering altar depths beyond. When he spoke, his tone sent a chill through the cavern walls. “You’ve pried too far into mysteries left sealed for good reason. But your obsession ends here. We approach Zhōng yuán jié—the Hungry Ghost Festival. And we are its gates.”

With a dramatic flourish, Jin Yue Long whirled and strode towards the yawning pit, gesturing for Quentin to follow. Transfixed in horror, Quentin crept to the precipice and gazed down into shadowed depths, where flickers of jade fire illuminated twisted obsidian forms huddled in slumber.

“You wish to know why the Wall was built, scholar?” Jin Yue Long’s voice echoed icily from the darkness. “Here is your reason; To contain that which should not be free! Now... you die, along with any hope of unearthing this evil once more.”