9: Chapter 9 The Letter from the Man in Black

The coldness of the bone fragment changed on the third day.

Before, it seeped into his body like ice water poured into his veins.

Now, it was emanating from within, as if something was being drawn out—not Spiritual Qi, but something deeper than Spiritual Qi.

Lu Chen couldn't articulate it, but every day when he woke up, he felt a little lighter, as if someone had taken a piece of flesh he never knew existed while he slept.

He touched the bone fragment on his chest.

It was cold.

But it was a different kind of cold—before it was ice, now it was like the river water in late autumn.

The chill remained, but it no longer bit into his bones.

"Have you had enough?"

Lu Chen didn't know.

He sat cross-legged in the Ruined Temple, closed his eyes, and began Qi Channeling.

Spiritual Qi surged into his Dantian.

It was just like yesterday, neither more nor less.

But the chill was there too.

The two things coexisted in his Dantian, like two fish swimming in the same pond, ignoring each other.

Lu Chen had tried to force the chill out.

It didn't work.

The chill seemed to have grown into his Dantian, intertwined with the Spiritual Qi, inseparable.

He asked himself a question—if the chill was part of the "price," then what was the price he was paying now?

He didn't know.

But he knew that from the moment he put on the bone fragment, there was no turning back.

The fourth day.

Lu Chen went to The Cave to look for Mo Wen.

He didn't expect the old man to still be there; he wanted to see if there were any clues left behind.

The entrance to The Cave was the same.

The snow hadn't melted, and the footprints were blurred.

Lu Chen bent down and crawled in.

The smell inside had changed—before it was a damp, musty odor, but now there was a hint of something burnt, as if someone had burned something here.

He squatted down and searched the ground.

Ash.

A pile of ash in the center of The Cave floor, circular, as if someone had deliberately piled it up.

In the ash were things that hadn't finished burning—scraps of cloth, wood shavings, and fragments of bone.

Lu Chen reached out and sifted through the ash.

The cloth scrap was black.

He thought of the Person in Black.

"He has been here."

Lu Chen stood up and looked at The Cave wall.

The words were still there.

Wang Qishan's "Never Cultivate," the unknown person's "Run," the "Immortality is Death" on the ceiling, and the four newly written words— "You will regret it."

But below "You will regret it," there was another line of text.

Newly written.

It was newer than "You will regret it," and the handwriting was different.

This time it wasn't written with fingers dipped in blood; it was carved with something.

The strokes were fine and deep, as if carved one by one with the tip of a knife.

"On the third day, Mo Wen died. He died from the price."

Lu Chen stared at this line for ten seconds.

Mo Wen was dead.

He thought of the old man's appearance—tattered clothes, a wine gourd, eyes that were too bright for an old man.

He thought of the tone he used when he said, "You are the third."

He thought of him leaning against The Cave wall, eyes closed, saying, "Go."

He was dead.

Lu Chen stood in The Cave, unmoving.

There was wind outside, blowing in through the entrance, chilling his back.

He didn't know what he was feeling.

It wasn't sadness.

Mo Wen was not his friend, not his Master, just an old man who gave him a stone and bamboo slips.

Their relationship was simple—you give me what I want, and I will listen to you.

It wasn't anger.

He didn't know who killed Mo Wen, nor why they killed him.

Anger needed a target, and he had none.

It was an indescribable feeling.

It was like a rope had snapped.

Mo Wen was his only rope in this world, and now that the rope had snapped, he was drifting on the water alone, not knowing where the shore was.

Lu Chen took a deep breath, suppressing that feeling.

Then he squatted down and looked at the ash on the ground again.

Beside the ash pile, there was something.

It was very small, buried in the ash, with only a corner exposed.

Lu Chen reached out and picked it up.

It was a wooden plaque.

It wasn't big, two fingers wide and one finger long, half-charred, but the words on it were still visible.

"The third one. If you see this, run quickly. Mo Wen."

The words were written in a scrawl, as if in a hurry, the strokes crooked and distorted.

But Lu Chen recognized it—it was Mo Wen's handwriting.

He had seen the handwriting when Mo Wen wrote "You will regret it" on The Cave wall.

It was the same.

Scrawled, forceful, as if fighting against something.

"He left this for me."

Lu Chen flipped the wooden plaque over.

There was writing on the back too.

"Do not remove the bone fragment. It can save you."

Lu Chen looked down at the bone fragment on his chest.

Do not remove it.

It could save him.

Save him from what?

He didn't know.

But the fact that Mo Wen left this line before he died meant the bone fragment was more important than he had thought.

Lu Chen tucked the wooden plaque into his robe and stood up.

He walked over to the groove, pushed the stone aside, and looked inside.

The finger bone was still there.

He didn't touch it.

He put the stone back.

Then he bent down and crawled out of The Cave.

The sunlight outside was dazzling.

The snow was melting, and water dripped from the eaves with a ticking sound.

Lu Chen stood at the entrance of The Cave, squinting at the sky.

The sky was very blue, unnaturally so.

The winter sky should have been gray and hazy, but this sky was blue as if it were fake, as if someone had covered the sky with a piece of blue cloth.

"On the third day, Mo Wen died. He died from the price."

That line kept spinning in his mind.

Died from the price.

Mo Wen had said he was the third one.

Wang Qishan was the first, the unknown person was the second, and Lu Chen was the third.

Now Mo Wen was dead.

Who killed him?

That Person in Black?

The Gray-robed Man?

Or someone else?

Lu Chen didn't know.

But he knew one thing—if Mo Wen died from the "price," then the "price" was not just losing memories.

The price could kill people.

Lu Chen returned to the Ruined Temple.

The fire had gone out, and it was cold in the temple.

He didn't relight the fire, just sat on the dry grass and took out the wooden plaque to look at it again.

"Do not remove the bone fragment. It can save you."

He touched the bone fragment on his chest.

The chill was still there.

It was emanating from within his body, bit by bit, as if it were drawing something out.

"Save me from what?"

No one answered.

He closed his eyes and began Qi Channeling.

It wasn't that he wanted to Cultivate, but that he needed to calm down.

His mind was too chaotic—Mo Wen was dead, the bone fragment was absorbing things, the Person in Black had appeared, the Gray-robed Man was looking for something.

One thing after another, like a knotted rope, pulling tighter and tighter.

Spiritual Qi surged into his Dantian.

The chill was there too.

The two things spun in his Dantian, circle after circle.

Lu Chen channeled for about an hour when he suddenly felt his Dantian shudder.

It wasn't pain, it was a vibration.

It was like someone had beaten a drum inside his Dantian, shaking his whole body.

He opened his eyes.

He looked down at his stomach.

He couldn't see anything.

But his body knew—the Spiritual Qi and the chill in his Dantian were no longer coexisting.

They had begun Fusion.

It wasn't a fight, it was Fusion.

Like water and mud mixing together to become a third thing.

Lu Chen didn't know what this was.

But he knew that from this moment on, the thing inside his body was no longer ordinary Spiritual Qi.

The fifth day.

Lu Chen didn't go to The Cave.

He sat in the Ruined Temple and continued Qi Channeling.

The Spiritual Qi and the chill were fusing faster and faster.

The mass in his Dantian was growing larger and hotter.

It wasn't the gentle warmth from before, it was scalding, as if a piece of red-hot iron had been stuffed into his Dantian.

He gritted his teeth and endured it, his forehead covered in sweat.

His clothes were soaked, sticking to his back.

But he didn't stop.

Because after each Fusion, the capacity of his Dantian increased a little.

Before, the stored Qi was only one-fifth full, now it was one-quarter full.

"It's growing."

His Dantian was growing.

Lu Chen didn't know if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

Wang Qishan's bamboo slips hadn't mentioned this situation.

Mo Wen hadn't said anything either.

But he couldn't stop.

It wasn't because he didn't want to stop, but because he couldn't.

The chill of the bone fragment kept seeping into his body, Spiritual Qi kept pouring in, and the two things kept fusing.

It was like a car going downhill with broken brakes, forced to keep rushing down.

The sixth day.

When Lu Chen woke up, he discovered something.

He had forgotten a few lines from Wang Qishan's bamboo slips.

Not all of it, just a few sentences.

He had memorized those lines very well before, but now there was a blank spot in his mind, and he couldn't recall them no matter what.

Lu Chen sat up, unrolled the bamboo slips, and read from beginning to end.

He found them.

The forgotten lines were about the "price."

Wang Qishan had written: "I don't know what the price is, but I know the price is approaching."

"Every time I Cultivate, I can feel something watching me."

"Not a person, but some kind of... rule."

"I am dying."

"Not because of injury, but because my cultivation is regressing."

"I drop a level every day."

"Today it is Level 1 Qi Refining, tomorrow I might be a Mortal."

"Memories are also being lost."

"I can't remember my mother's face."

"I can't remember my father's voice."

"I can't remember the place where I lived as a child."

"If one day you see these words, remember one thing—do not be greedy."

"Stop when you Cultivate to Qi Refining Level 3."

"Above level 3, the price will find you."

Above level 3.

The price will find you.

Lu Chen was currently at Level 1 Qi Refining.

Still safe.

But if he continued to Cultivate, when he reached Qi Refining Level 3, the price would come.

Mo Wen died from the price.

Wang Qishan died from the price.

The unknown person also died from the price.

"Am I the fourth?"

Lu Chen put down the bamboo slips and leaned against the wall.

He remembered what Mo Wen had said—"You are the third."

At the time, he hadn't understood the weight of that sentence.

Now he understood.

The third one.

The two before him were both dead.

He was the third.

If he continued to Cultivate, he would be the third person to die.

If he didn't—the Spiritual Qi would dissipate, and he would die faster than a normal person.

Both paths led to death.

Lu Chen closed his eyes.

He remembered the image of the Gray-robed Man flying past.

He remembered standing at the foot of the wall, looking at the empty sky, with only one thought in his heart—"I want to fly too."

Now he knew.

Flying had a price.

But he didn't regret it.

"Then I will die."

When he said these three words, his voice was very flat, without trembling, without hesitation.

It was as if he were talking about something that had nothing to do with him.

Then he stood up, lit a fire, boiled water, brewed the medicinal soup, and drank it.

Bitter.

After drinking, he sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and began Qi Channeling.

Spiritual Qi surged into his Dantian.

The chill was there too.

The two things continued to fuse.

Lu Chen didn't care anymore.

Mo Wen was dead.

Wang Qishan was dead.

The unknown person was also dead.

But Lu Chen was still alive.

He wanted to see what was waiting for him at the end of the road of cultivation.

Evening.

Lu Chen found something at the entrance of the temple.

A piece of paper, pressed under a stone.

The paper was yellow, with neat edges, not ordinary paper.

There were words written on it, the handwriting very neat, as if written by a scholar.

"A Cultivator at Level 1 Qi Refining, living in a Ruined Temple, drinking medicinal soup for Qi Channeling, not even having a Spirit Stone."

"Are you the third one?"

Lu Chen flipped the paper over.

There was writing on the back too.

"If you want answers, come to the summit of Qingniu Ridge."

"Three days from now, I will wait for only one day."

There was no signature.

Lu Chen folded the paper and tucked it into his robe.

He stood at the entrance of the temple, looking in the direction of Qingniu Ridge.

The mountain was black, and the sky was almost dark.

The summit was above the clouds, invisible.

"Three days."

He turned and went back into the temple, sat down, and continued Qi Channeling.

No matter who was waiting at the summit, he had to go.

It wasn't because of curiosity, it wasn't because he wasn't afraid of death.

It was because he had no way out.

Mo Wen had said that for those who had Cultivated, if the Spiritual Qi dissipated, it would take their lifespan with it.

Not Cultivating meant death, and Cultivating also meant death.

But by Cultivating, at least he could die a little slower.

Lu Chen closed his eyes.

Spiritual Qi surged into his Dantian.

The chill was there too.

This time, he did not resist.

He let the two things freely fuse, freely grow.

The Dantian was expanding.

The Grey Spirit Root was growing.

The chill of the bone fragment was emanating outward.

Lu Chen sat in the Ruined Temple, the fire burning beside him, the wind outside howling, the snow melting, water dripping with a ticking sound.

But none of this mattered to him anymore.

He had only one thought—"Three days later, go to the summit."

"See what is waiting for me, in the end."