On the eastern slopes of Xieyang Peak, above the waters of Yangnan Creek, stands the Fotu Monastery Pagoda. Built during the ninth-century reign of the Nanzhao king Quan Fengyou, this thirty-meter-tall square brick tower rises in a graceful parabolic curve. Its double-tiered base of rough-hewn stone anchors a hollow core that climbs thirteen tiers into the sky.

Local Bai communities call this the Snake Bone Pagoda. They trace its origin to Duan Chicheng, a brave youth who swallowed knives to slay a giant, flood-causing python from within its belly. Legend says the monster's ashes were mixed into the plaster. The physical reality of the tower is equally dramatic. In 1573, a violent earthquake split the western wall from top to bottom. Records state the fissure miraculously sealed itself within three days. Two years later, in 1575, masons stabilized the structure, embedding a commemorative marble slab into the western facade.

The architecture reflects Nanzhao engineering. The first four tiers rise straight up, while the fifth tier steps inward. A square eastern doorway, capped by a heavy horizontal wooden lintel, provides entry to the cool, vertical shaft. On the exterior, arched niches meant for Buddhist statues alternate with open windows that let the mountain breeze pass through. At the summit, a bronze finial with a bottle gourd, a ceremonial umbrella, and wind bells catches the high-altitude winds.

Inside this hollow giant, time preserved a secret treasury. During a restoration in 1980, archaeologists reached into the bronze finial and the wooden doorframe. They recovered fifty-two sacred objects, including gilded bronze Guanyin statues, thirty-six vajras, twenty-six pearls, and eighty cowrie shells used as ancient currency. Tucked above the wooden lintel were fourteen hand-written Nanzhao scriptures and two Yuan Dynasty financial ledgers from 1367, left behind by medieval temple administrators.

Today, the reconstructed monastery nearby still echoes with the traditional prayers of Bai worshippers, while the ancient pagoda stands as a silent sentinel of stone, wood, and memory.