The Shattered Star Pendant burned in his palm. Not the scorch of flame against flesh—something deeper. Like an icy needle piercing the marrow, crawling up the arm bone and stirring the ruined spiritual root that had lain dead and stagnant for three years. The ruins responded. Not with pain, but with thirst. A hunger, nearly ravenous, aimed in a single direction. Lin Yi pressed his back against the cold stone wall of the Soul-Scattering Cliff, his breath reduced to a thin white mist. The third watch of midnight. The patrol's footsteps had just faded along the cliff-top path, and the next shift change was less than half an hour away. Time was not an hourglass. It was a wet rope around his neck, tightening inch by inch. He opened his palm. The Shattered Star Pendant lay there, its moon-white jade exuding a faint ghost-blue chill in the suffocating darkness. The light was weak, no larger than a needle's point, yet it stubbornly pointed toward a spot on the cliff wall—a patch of dark green moss, thick as a velvet blanket. What had the family *Forbidden Grounds Chronicles* said? *"The entrance to Soul-Scattering Cliff is hidden within the eye of the Star-Scattering Array. There are seven array eyes, shifting according to the Big Dipper, and each must be opened in turn with the spiritual power of the direct bloodline..."* The record was dead. The cliff was alive. Lin Yi's fingertips brushed the moss. The texture was damp and slick, carrying the coolness of night dew. He pressed harder. Beneath the moss, the rock wall was unnaturally smooth, as if polished for a thousand years with the finest sandpaper. Not a single natural stone grain. Much less any carving of a "Star-Scattering Array eye." Wrong. Was the record wrong, or had the array been altered? In the distance, another long beat of the watchman's clapper. The lantern light of the night patrol flickered at the edge of the forest. Closer now. The rope of time tightened another notch. He closed his eyes and forced every scrap of pitiful spiritual power—squeezed from the cracks of his shattered spiritual root—toward his palm. The power was as thin as a thread. The instant it poured into the Shattered Star Pendant, the jade trembled violently! The chill light exploded. No longer a needle's point, but a small cluster of ghost-blue flame, burning silently in his palm. The flame's tip nearly touched the moss, its direction unchanged. But the "thirst" transmitted from the pendant suddenly intensified tenfold. It was no longer content to guide. It was pulling, urging, even carrying an ancient, nearly venomous urgency. Lin Yi's molars clenched. The taste of blood seeped from his gums. No array eye. No interface for spiritual power to open. Before him was only a smooth wall that devoured all probing, and a pendant growing hotter and hotter—less and less a "guiding object," more and more a lure. A crack in his understanding began to spread. The family records, the clues left by his mother, the "Pavilion of Listening to Rain" that Shi Meng had revealed in terror... these fragments should have formed a path to the truth. Yet before the cold silence of Soul-Scattering Cliff, they showed a monstrous misalignment. Not wrongly assembled—the board itself was moving. A trap? The thought poured like ice water down his spine. But the clapper sounded again, closer. The lantern's glow was already bright enough to illuminate the clumps of withered grass at the outer edge of the stone hollow where he hid. Retreat meant total loss. It meant continuing to rot in the dust of the servants' quarters and the burning pain of the brand. Advance... ahead might be an abyss ten thousand fathoms deep, or it might be the first crack in the iron barrel of "Heaven's Will." He stared at the moss, his gaze sharp enough to slice it open. His fingertips began unconsciously tapping the cliff wall. *Tap. Tap. Tap.* Slow. Steady. With a rhythm nearly cruel. It was his habit: the greater the pressure, the slower the tapping, as if to suppress all the uncertainty surging within him with that mechanical sound. Then he stopped. From his waist he drew the broken blade—given by Shi Meng, who'd said it was for cutting coarse bread and self-defense. The edge was dull, covered in rust. Without spiritual power infused, it was nothing but scrap iron. Lin Yi looked at the palm of his left hand. The branded character *Shame* rose slightly in the darkness, like a scar that would never heal. The corner of his mouth twitched—whether a smile or something else, he could not say. The entire cliff face seemed to come alive, pulsing faintly in the crimson light. The moss withered and blackened at a visible rate, revealing beneath it a fissure just wide enough for a person to squeeze through sideways, deep and dark beyond measure. Its edges were jagged and uneven, like the forced grin of some colossal beast. What poured from it was not wind, but a viscous, cloying stench—a mixture of rust and decaying ozone. The entrance. But every hair on Lin Yi's body stood on end. The Starshatter Pendant in his blood-soaked right hand vibrated madly. That cluster of ghostly blue flame had turned deathly white, no longer pointing toward the fissure but straight upward, as if warning of something in the sky. The jade itself burned so fiercely that his flesh sizzled and the smell of charred meat rose from his palm. He looked up. The night sky had been thick with clouds, but now, centered directly above the fissure, the clouds began to rotate, forming a massive vortex that turned slowly but with terrible purpose. There were no stars at its center—only a depthless black that seemed to swallow all light. Faintly, a sound descended from unimaginable heights—not thunder, but a low grinding of metal against metal, of law against law, pressing through his skull and straight into his soul. The formation had activated. But it was not the entrance formation he had expected. The blood-colored patterns on the cliff face suddenly erupted with torrential crimson light, swallowing him whole. The radiance had substance, pressing down until his bones creaked. Worse still was the suction force rising from the depths of the fissure—no longer tentative, but the grip of an invisible colossal hand, seizing his body and dragging him into that darkness. Trap confirmed. Lin Yi's eyes widened in the blood-light. His left hand clawed at a protruding rock just outside the fissure, nails splitting, stone chips and blood foam falling in a steady rain. The Starshatter Pendant in his right hand had gone white-hot as a branding iron, burning so fiercely he could barely hold it—yet the jade seemed to have grown into his very flesh, madly draining his already nearly depleted spiritual power and feeding it back into the blood-colored formation on the cliff. It was using him as a sacrifice to open something deeper, more terrifying. "Ngh—!" A low roar tore from his throat—not from pain, but from rage, from the fury of being calculated, manipulated, used as a key and then as firewood. His body was dragged inch by inch toward the fissure. Loose stones slid beneath his feet. He hung suspended, all his weight borne by the five fingers of his left hand digging into that narrow ledge. The blood-light grew ever brighter, illuminating his face, twisted and pale from extreme exertion. The vortex's low hum became clear, layer upon layer of pronouncement, detonating directly in his mind: "Re... bellious..." "Against... Heaven's... Way..." "Deserves... execution..." Each word weighed thousands of *jun*, smashing against his soul until it nearly shattered, his vision flashing black again and again. His nose and mouth grew hot, and warm liquid poured out—not bright red, but carrying tiny, eerie golden motes. In the instant when his consciousness was about to be torn apart by this dual crushing force, his left hand, still gripping the ledge, suddenly slipped downward from the tremendous force dragging his body! His fingers plunged into a pile of loose rubble at the fissure's edge. The stones ground against his finger bones with agonizing pain, but deep within this rubble, his fingertips touched something. Fabric. Soft, delicate—even after being buried in gravel and mud for who knew how many years, he could still feel how exquisite it must once have been. And... there was an extremely faint scent, yet one that instantly pierced through the stench of blood and ozone, driving straight to the deepest recess of his memory. *Snowborne Spring Letter.* His mother's favorite incense. She had always said this fragrance carried a thread of warmth within bitter cold, like a lamp that refused to go out in absolute despair. Lin Yi's heart felt as if that invisible hand had seized it viciously, then suddenly released it, blood roaring back into his limbs and trunk. From somewhere in his already exhausted body, strength surged forth—enough to make his right hand, ignoring the searing pain, slam the Starshatter Pendant, which had nearly embedded itself into his palm bones, with all his might into the densest cluster of blood patterns on the cliff! *Crack!* The soft sound of the jade shattering was nearly inaudible amid the blood-light and the grinding of laws. But the crimson radiance The shattering of the Star-Fragment Jade seemed to enrage something. The blood patterns on the cliff-face were no longer content with mere light—they began to twist and peel away from the stone, "growing" outward into several semi-transparent chains of spiritual power, densely inscribed with ancient runes. They rattled like living vipers and shot toward him! Before the chains even reached him, that vast will—the sense that his very existence was a mistake—pressed down like an iceberg. Lin Yi's pupils contracted sharply. He knew that what he had triggered was far more than the Lin family's guardian formation for the forbidden grounds. This was the backlash of the "Rules" themselves. The chains pierced through the bloody light, instantly coiling around his ankles, wrists, waist, and abdomen... The last one, the thickest and most solid, aimed its tip directly at the ruined remnant of his spiritual root in his dantian! Cold. Burning. Two diametrically opposed yet equally fatal sensations erupted simultaneously as the chains tightened upon him. The cold drained the last warmth from his body, while the burning began to annihilate all remaining spiritual power in his meridians, and even... tried to erase the "trace" of his spiritual root's ruin. "Ngh—aaah!!" He finally couldn't hold back a roar of agony, the pain of his body and soul being crushed and erased at the same time. The chains dragged him completely away from the edge of the fissure and slammed him heavily onto the open ground before the cliff-face. A sharp stone snapped one of his ribs, the agony sending darkness flooding across his vision, nearly knocking him unconscious. The sachet was still in his left hand, pressed against his chest. That faint warmth stubbornly resisted the absolute cold and annihilating power of the chains, protecting a small core region around his heart like the one calm harbor in the eye of a storm. Lin Yi struggled in the dust and blood, his vision blurring as he looked toward his left hand. The sachet was crushed out of shape, its rough fabric grinding against the wounds in his palm. Dimly, through a torn corner of its inner lining, he seemed to see characters inside. Embroidered characters. The silk threads had long faded, nearly blending into the fabric, but by the lingering glow of the surrounding blood-light, he could still make out a faint outline. He desperately focused his scattered consciousness and looked. They were a few small characters, finely embroidered, yet bearing a sense of haste and even... despair. "Rules... also... have..." "cracks..." Each character was like a faint bolt of lightning, striking into his mind that teetered on the edge of chaos. Rules... also have cracks? What did it mean? Left by his mother? What had she discovered back then? This sachet—had she deliberately left it here? For... whom? Countless questions exploded forth, but the suppression of the chains suddenly intensified! "Ptui—" He spat out another mouthful of blood, the golden specks within it even more numerous now. His vision rapidly darkened, and besides the cold proclamation of the laws, another sound began to mix into his hearing— The sound of something tearing through the air. Sharp, rapidly approaching, from the direction of the cliff-top. More than one. The patrol? No, at that speed, with that spiritual power fluctuation... it was the elite guardians of the forbidden grounds! They had been alerted by the disturbance here! Lin Yi lay on the cold ground, his bones feeling as if they had come apart, a hollow sensation emanating from his dantian where the chains were coiled—the feeling of something being permanently lost. Waves of pain from his damaged soul battered the defenses of his consciousness. He couldn't move. His eyes barely opened to slits, gazing at the gray sky where the vortex had not yet completely dispersed. The sounds of tearing air grew closer and closer. He could already hear faint shouts: "Over there!" "Spiritual power eruption! Hurry!" Was it going to end? Like three years ago—captured, judged, and thoroughly cast into the abyss? No... With his last strength, his left hand pressed that tattered sachet fiercely against his chest, close to his heart. The faint warmth remained, weak yet stubborn. Rules... also have cracks... Mother, was this the "crack" you saw? Or... the "crack" you left behind? Before his vision went completely black, the last thing he saw was several fierce sword lights tearing through the night curtain, diving down toward his position. His pursuers had already reached overhead. The instant the bloody light swallowed his vision, Lin Yi knew he had been wrong. Disastrously wrong. That was no trace of a modified formation. It was nothing the Lin family could have laid. The twisted blood-colored patterns A metallic grinding sound rose from the depths of the fissure—not heard by the ears, but vibrating directly through the skull. The sky remained ink-black night, yet some vast, suffocating "gaze" had already descended. The air grew viscous; every breath felt like swallowing mud mixed with iron rust and ash. *A trap...* The thought had barely formed before his body instinctively retreated. His left foot had just left the ground. Several translucent chains shot out from the blood-light. They were not entities condensed from spiritual power—more like the very "rules" themselves given monstrous form. Dark golden runes flowed across the chains' surfaces, each character writhing and reorganizing, emanating cold wills of "prohibition," "erasure," and "death to the defiant." They had no temperature, yet the instant they touched his skin brought a tearing sensation of burning and freezing intertwined. The first chain wrapped around his right wrist. *Crack.* His wrist bone groaned under the strain. Lin Yi clenched his jaw, veins bulging at his temples. He tried to mobilize that pitiful remnant of spiritual power within him—three years after the heavenly punishment, his spiritual roots had shattered completely, leaving only scattered dust-like fragments in his dantian. Normally he couldn't even light a lamp, yet now it became the first bait the chains devoured. The sensation of spiritual power being drained felt like someone scraping his bone marrow with a dull knife. The second chain locked around his left ankle. The third drove straight toward his dantian. "*Urgh—!*" A broken roar tore from Lin Yi's throat. His body was dragged toward the fissure by tremendous force, his back slamming against the rock wall. Crumbled stones rustled down, striking his head and shoulders. The taste of blood surged up from his throat; he tasted iron rust mixed with a trace of strange sweetness. Those were the golden motes remaining in his meridians when his spiritual power was thoroughly annihilated. The chains tightened. With every increment of tightening, that will of "existence itself is error" grew stronger. It brooked no reason, permitted no argument—like an invisible mountain pressing directly upon his soul. His vision began to double, and his ears filled with the murmurs of billions—not human voices, but the laws declaring, the order passing judgment. "...Defier of heaven..." "...Shall be executed..." The voices layered upon each other, flooding his cranial cavity. Lin Yi's pupils began to dilate, his strength to resist draining away like a receding tide. He saw his right hand, the vessels beneath his skin emitting that dark golden light of the chain runes, as if he were being rewritten, marked, and ultimately erased by the "rules" from inside out. No. He couldn't die here. The fragment of the letter his mother left was still in his embrace. "Do not trust... heavenly way... contract... price..." Those charred characters burned against his chest like hot coals. And Shi Meng's terrified gaze, and that ice-cold token from "Yun Zhi"... He hadn't found the answers yet, hadn't torn away this heavy black cloth wrapping family, wrapping fate, wrapping the so-called "heavenly way." The instinct to survive sprouted like wild grass through the cracks of despair. Lin Yi jerked his head up, veins coiling like dragons at his neck. He no longer tried to resist the chains' physical binding—it was meaningless. He focused all remaining will, all the unyielding defiance still roaring after being crushed, onto one point: *observation.* Observing the flow patterns of the chain runes. Observing the energy nodes between blood-light and fissure. Observing whether there were... cracks in this space forcibly suppressed by "rules." Just as his mother said. Just as that charred paper might still hide half a sentence the flames hadn't consumed. His fingertips began to twitch unconsciously, his knuckles rapping against the rock wall with faint yet stubborn *tak, tak* sounds. This was his quirk, his way of forcing himself to stay conscious. Each rap was like resisting those law-voices in his ears declaring he "shall be executed." The chains seemed to sense his resistance. The one coiled around his dantian suddenly tightened. "*Pff—*" Lin Yi spat out a mouthful of blood. There were more golden motes in the blood now, flickering like fireflies in the blood-mist. An utterly shattering pain came from his dantian, as if something rooted there had been uprooted completely. The old scar left by the heavenly punishment three years ago was now thoroughly torn open, revealing the long-rotted foundation beneath. His spiritual foundation... destroyed. This time it was real—not even dust remained. But simultaneously, something sharper, colder, emerged from the depths In the intervals between the chain-runes' revolutions, there was an instant—perhaps less than a tenth of a breath—when the dark-gold light exhibited an infinitesimal lag. Like a precision gear catching a grain of sand, like a perfect timepiece falling behind by one hundred-millionth of a beat. A fissure. A fissure in the rules. The thought struck Lin Yi's consciousness like lightning, teetering on the brink of chaos. He fixed his eyes upon the chain coiled around his right wrist. As the runes once more revolved to that specific node, he mustered every ounce of his strength and wrenched his right hand violently in the opposite direction! Not to break free. To thrust himself into the "dead point" where the chain's strangling force was at its absolute maximum. *Crack!* His wrist bone shattered completely. The agony sent darkness flooding across his vision. But in that precise instant, the chain's runes indeed exhibited the anticipated lag—it had been disrupted by its preprogrammed "erasure" sequence, like a blade too keen, which upon striking its target would briefly lose control due to its own momentum. The lag lasted only a moment. But for Lin Yi, it was enough. He seized that instant of loosened force, his body rolling sideways like a fish out of water. Shattered stone and broken branches ground against his ribs, the pain nearly driving him unconscious. But the direction of his roll—toward the pile of loosened rubble beside the fissure, dislodged when the formation had activated. His left hand plunged blindly into the debris. Sharp pain lanced through his fingertips, sliced open by jagged edges. But then his fingers brushed against something... different. Fabric. Soft, already somewhat brittle fabric. Lin Yi's fingers clamped shut, gripping it with desperate strength. The instant the sensation registered, an extremely faint yet unmistakably familiar warmth seeped from his palm into his meridians. Thin, thin as a winter's breath turned to white vapor, yet miraculously shielding his heart-meridian from imminent collapse. Simultaneously, a wisp of fragrance entered his nostrils. Not rusted iron, not charred ash, but... *Snow's Spring Tidings*. His mother's favorite incense in life. She had always said this scent was like the first plum blossom blooming in snow-covered ground—cold austerity concealing a defiant vitality. As a child, Lin Yi would often nestle in her arms to breathe it in. After she passed, this fragrance became the most forbidden corner of his memory. A sachet. An old sachet his mother had left behind. He pulled it from the rubble. The moon-white silk had faded to yellow, its edges worn threadbare, the embroidered interlacing lotus patterns blurred. Yet held in his hand, that faint warmth was like a solitary lamp in the night, stubbornly resisting the annihilating cold the chain brought—that chill which sought to freeze and obliterate all existence. The chain tightened anew. The lag had ended. More frenzied suppression descended, as though the "rules" had been enraged. Lin Yi's spine creaked under the pressure. The blood streaming from his nose and mouth had already soaked his breast. His vision began to collapse, heavy black mist encroaching from the edges. But before consciousness fled entirely, he summoned his final dregs of strength to raise the sachet before his eyes. In the light of blood, a line of small characters embroidered with faded thread upon the sachet's inner lining faintly emerged— *"Rules... too... have... fissures..."* The handwriting was elegant, his mother's script. Each character had been stitched with extreme force; the final stroke had even torn the silk. Lin Yi's pupils contracted violently. Then, at that moment— "There! The spiritual energy eruption came from Soul-Severing Cliff!" A shout came from the distance, rough and urgent. Immediately followed by a younger voice: "Quick! The forbidden ground shows anomaly—someone has violated the Heavenly Mandate!" The sound of air being torn asunder ripped through the night. Footfalls, the whistling of garments cutting wind, were approaching at astonishing speed. The bloody light had not yet dissipated; the chain's runes flickered in the night sky like a conspicuous beacon, proclaiming that here had occurred a defiance of the "Heavenly Dao." Lin Yi lay in the rubble pile, his right wrist bones completely shattered, his dantian foundation utterly destroyed, his spirit like porcelain barely glued together after being sliced by a thousand blades. He clutched that old sachet with death-grip, the faint warmth seeping from it guarding the final thread of vitality in his heart-meridian. Before his vision plunged into total darkness, he saw several figures in the Lin Lin Yi felt someone crouch down and roughly pry open his clenched fingers. The instant the sachet was torn away, that faint warmth abruptly receded, and bone-piercing cold swept through him again, threatening to shatter his last remaining shred of soul. "Just a worn-out sachet?" a young voice sneered. "And here I thought it was some treasure." "Wait." The steady voice paused. "This fragrance... it's 'Spring Tidings in the Snow.' I haven't smelled it in years." "So what?" "This scent—only the former Lady of the house favored it." The steady voice dropped lower, carrying some complicated emotion. "Bring him back for now. Is he still alive?" A finger pressed beneath Lin Yi's nose. "Barely breathing. His dantian is shattered, his soul nearly scattered. Even if he survives, he'll be a cripple." "A cripple is perfect." The steady voice rose to its feet. "Dead would only cause more trouble. Take him back, let those above deal with him. And tonight... watch your tongues." "Understood." "Clean up the traces on the cliff. The array backlash—say it's the forbidden grounds falling into disrepair, defensive mechanisms triggering on their own." "Yes." Lin Yi felt himself being brutally hauled up. Gravel and broken branches scraped across the wounds on his back, the agony making his fading consciousness spasm. But he lacked even the strength to open his eyes. He could only let the darkness surge in like tidewater, swallowing every sense. Only one final thought remained, like a stone sinking to the seabed, stubbornly lodged in the depths of his awareness— The sachet. His mother's handwriting. Rules... also have cracks. The motion of dragging him suddenly stopped. "Now what?" the young voice asked impatiently. The steady voice didn't answer immediately. Lin Yi felt that gaze fall upon his face once more, carrying scrutiny, and even a trace of... hesitation. "His face..." the steady voice murmured. "Doesn't he look familiar to any of you?" "Familiar? He's just some menial disciple, filthy as hell—who would recognize—" The words cut off abruptly. The air went suddenly still. Only the wind moaned through the fissures of Soul-Breaker Cliff, carrying the scent of rust and charred ash. Lin Yi felt several gazes simultaneously focus on his face, pricking his skin like needles. A long silence. The young voice spoke again, this time trembling with disbelief: "He... he couldn't be..." "The one from three years ago." The steady voice finished, his tone sinking completely. "The genius crippled by heavenly punishment. Lin Yi." Dead silence. The hands dragging him let go. Lin Yi's body crashed back onto the pile of gravel, the broken bones sending a piercing pain through him, yet he couldn't even manage a groan. "How is it him?" The young voice panicked. "Wasn't he locked up in the back mountains long ago, basically a dead man? How did he get to the forbidden grounds?" "You ask me, who do I ask?" The steady voice grew agitated. "This is trouble now. Can't kill him, can't not kill him." "Then... then what do we do?" "Take him back. Remember—tonight, no one saw his face, no one knows who he is. He's just a thief who trespassed into the forbidden grounds. Understand?" "But if those above find out—" "Even if they find out, we were just following protocol!" The steady voice suddenly rose. "Forbidden grounds showed abnormal activity, we patrolled and found a suspicious figure, subdued him by force. As for who he is, how would we know? A man crippled for three years, his face covered in blood and filth—who could recognize him?" "...Yes." "Move faster. Dawn is coming." Lin Yi was hauled up again. This time, the rough handling carried an added urgency. He felt his arms being hooked over shoulders, his feet dragging across the gravel ground, leaving two winding trails of blood. Before consciousness sank completely into darkness, he heard a final fragment of conversation drift from very far away: "What about this sachet...?" "Bring it too. Consider it evidence." "But this fragrance... what if someone recognizes it..." "Shut up. I said—tonight, no one saw anything, no one knows anything. The sachet is stolen goods. Understand?" "...Understood." Footsteps faded into the distance. Soul-Breaker Cliff fell back into deathly silence. The bloody light gradually dissipated, the phantom chains melting into the night sky as if they had never appeared. Only that forcibly torn fissure in the cliff face still slowly seeped a dark red glow, like a wound that would *** Lin Family Night Watch Hall, underground level. Moisture beaded on the stone walls, dripping drop by drop onto the bluestone floor with a monotonous echo. The air reeked of mold and faint blood, mingled with the bitter, smoky residue of burned herbs. Lin Yi was thrown onto a pile of dry straw in the corner. The impact of his body hitting the ground jolted his remaining consciousness above the surface of darkness for an instant. Agony surged through every limb and bone, like countless dull blades cutting him all at once. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids weighed a thousand pounds. Voices reached his ears. "...His dantian is completely shattered, and his meridians are riddled with erosion marks from the power of laws. It's a miracle he's still alive," an aged voice said, as flat as if commenting on the weather. "His soul is severely damaged. Even if saved, he'd be an idiot." "An idiot is best." It was the steady voice of the Night Watch disciple. "If those above ask, we'll say he trespassed into the forbidden grounds and triggered the formation, suffering backlash that left him like this. When we arrived, he was already delirious." "What about the sachet?" "Here." The sound of fabric rubbing together. "Take a look." A brief silence. When the aged voice spoke again, it carried a barely perceptible tremor: "'Spring Tidings in Snow'... It is indeed the Madam's old possession. The embroidery is also her handiwork." "Then this sachet..." "Leave it." The aged voice was decisive. "Dispose of the man cleanly. I'll take the sachet. Tonight's matter ends here." "But Elder, what if someone investigates—" "Investigates what?" The aged voice turned abruptly cold. "A cripple stole the Madam's relic, trespassed into the family's forbidden grounds, and was reduced to the lowest of cripples by formation backlash. The facts are clear, the evidence conclusive. Who would question the Night Watch Hall's judgment over a waste long since abandoned by the family?" "...Understood." "Force a bowl of 'Dust-Forgetting Powder' down his throat and throw him back into the Cold Pool in the rear mountains. Live or die, it's up to fate." "Dust-Forgetting Powder?" The steady voice hesitated. "That medicine is violently potent. In his current condition, I'm afraid..." "Precisely because I want him not to survive it." The aged voice was utterly unperturbed. "If he survives, he'll be a witless fool with all past memories erased, no longer any threat. If he doesn't... then it saves trouble." Footsteps approached in Lin Yi's direction. He felt someone roughly pry open his mouth, and a foul, bitter liquid poured in. The liquid burned his throat, blazing all the way down his esophagus into his stomach like swallowing a ball of fire. Immediately, that scorching sensation began spreading to his four limbs and hundred bones, and everywhere it passed, his meridians seared with pain as if branded by hot iron. But more terrible than the pain was the chaos that followed. His memories began to blur. His consciousness was like ink soaked in water, gradually bleeding and dissipating. His mother's face, the words on the sachet, the runes on the chains, Shi Meng's terrified gaze... all the images spun, shattered, and sank into an unfathomable darkness. No. He could not forget. Lin Yi roared in the depths of his heart, using his last shred of willpower to resist the medicine's erosion. His fingertips dug savagely into his palm, nails piercing flesh, blood seeping out. The pain allowed him to maintain a thread of clarity. "Tch, he can really hold out," the one forcing the medicine muttered. "Double the dose," the aged voice commanded. Another bowl of foul, bitter liquid was poured down. This time, Lin Yi could resist no longer. Darkness surged up like tidewater, completely drowning out all sound, all images, all sensation. Only that pain from his nails piercing his palm stubbornly remained, like the last faint candle flame in a stormy night. Before his consciousness sank completely into oblivion, he heard the aged voice speak one last time, very softly, yet driving into his freezing soul like an ice awl: "...If you must blame something, blame being born into the wrong family." "This heavenly way, these rules—they were never made for people like you." Footsteps faded away. The dull thud of a stone door closing. The dungeon returned to deathly stillness. Only the sound of water dripping remained. Drip. Drip. Drip. Like the pendulum of a countdown. *** The Cold Pool in the rear mountains. Pale moonlight fell on the ink-black