Lin Yi leaned against a tree, having just emerged from a narrow pass. The grey-black mist had suddenly thickened, almost completely obscuring the path ahead. He took a deep breath, and the subtle, needle-like pulse of energy emanating from his wristband intensified. Before he could react… The gnarled shadows of the trees seemed to writhe like ripples on water. A cold, emaciated hand, seemingly without sound, pressed against his left shoulder. The sensation was like iron. Like the touch of iron, frozen solid for three winters, devoid of any warmth. Lin Yì’s muscles instantly tensed – his right arm was useless, his left was the only one he could control. He instinctively tried to pull away, but the shoulder remained stubbornly fixed. The hand didn’t budge. A cold, deathly energy flowed from the hand, entering his meridians, like the roots of a winter tree penetrating frozen soil. Lin Yì’s breath caught in his throat. The energy constricted his blood vessels, turning his muscles to stone. He tried to turn his head, but his vision was filled with writhing shadows. The voice was gone. Only the frantic pounding of his heart and the rasping of his breath remained in the silence. **Don’t move.** The words echoed directly in his mind, dry and smooth, like pebbles grinding together. **If you don’t want to explode your dantian, then obey.** An invisible force gripped his throat. He could only manage a strangled “huh,” his eyes fixed on the hand. In the shadows,Mo Chen’s face was like a faded antique painting, his features etched with death. His eyes, though unfocused, seemed to pierce Lin Yì’s very soul. The wristband suddenly burned. The pain shot up from his wrist to his shoulder, like a red-hot wire searing his bones. Lin Yì clenched his teeth, his brow furrowed. He tried to channel the remaining energy in his dantian – even a flicker, a signal to Mo Chen that he was still alive, still capable of fighting. The energy moved. The cold energy constricted again. **Crack.** Lin Yì heard the sound of his ribs breaking. Blood gushed from his mouth, and the taste of it filled his throat. He coughed, spraying a crimson mist that instantly froze on the grey-black moss, forming jagged shards of ice. Mo Chen’s hand remained. The hand pressed harder, not downwards, but inwards – as if to crush Lin Yì into the shadows. The mist around them began to swirl, and the trees seemed to warp and distort. The ground beneath his feet turned to a viscous, sucking mud, like stepping into a swamp. Lin Yì’s left foot sank. It wasn’t mud. It was shadow. His own shadow, a black, viscous substance, engulfed his ankle, creeping upwards. It was icy cold, radiating a sense of utter desolation. He struggled, his right arm numb, his left hand clawing at the wet rock. His fingernails broke. Blood and mud splattered, leaving five crimson streaks in the stone. **Conserve your strength.** Mo Chen’s voice remained flat, like a weather report. **The wolves in the Black Wind Cave won’t let you rest if you waste your energy.** Lin Yì’s vision began to blur. Shadows swirled around him, pressing in on him from all sides. He felt like a trapped insect, every inch of his skin screaming with the icy grip. The burning sensation of the wristband morphed into a constant, throbbing hum, resonating with the frantic beat of his heart. Then, he was lifted. Not by a hand. By a shadow. The shadowy tendrils wrapped around his body, lifting him off the ground. Lin Yì hung suspended in the air, his limbs frozen, his eyes wide with terror. He saw Mo Chen turn. The emaciated figure melted further into the shadows, like a drop of ink in water. The world around them seemed to recede, and then, they moved. The shadow dragged him along, like a hunter pulling prey, across the uneven terrain. The wind howled. The mist ripped apart and reformed, like a piece of grey silk being violently torn. The trees blurred into streaks of colour, and the rocks became fleeting shadows. Lin Yì’s stomach churned, and a wave of dizziness washed over him. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus. He had to remember the path. He had to… His shoulder slammed against a jutting rock. A searing pain exploded through him. Lin Yì gasped, his teeth biting down on his lip. Blood spurted, and the taste [TRANSLATION START] The temperature plummeted. The biting cold penetrated through the thin clothing, seeping into his bones. Lin Yi's teeth began to chatter, the white mist expelled from his breath crystallized in the air and then shattered by the rushing airflow. He heard the faint clicking sound beneath his feet – Skeletons. Human, animal, mixed together, covering the floor of the cave. The shadow dragged him over these skeletons, like crushing autumn leaves. The broken ribs, the fractured skulls, were splattered and then quickly swallowed by the darkness. The rock wall receded. The wall was covered with the remnants of runes, the carvings deep as ravines, filled with a kind of glowing mineral. The light was unstable, sometimes dim like a firefly, sometimes suddenly bright like lightning. Each time it lit up, it revealed more twisted details in the depths of the cave – frozen black plants, like struggling people; the stalactites hanging from the ceiling, dripping not water, but viscous, blood-red ice. Mo Chen walked ahead. His figure was barely visible in the light of the runes, like a ghost. No footsteps. Only the shadow dragging Lin Yi, the sound of the bones breaking, and the hissing of the ice against the rock. After a long time. Perhaps an hour, perhaps a few hours. Time had lost meaning in the darkness and cold. Lin Yi's consciousness began to float, like a drowning person, sinking in the icy depths. The numbness in his right arm spread to his shoulder, the fingertips of his left hand were frozen to the point of losing sensation. Then the shadow released him. Lin Yi fell heavily onto the rocks. The impact shattered the last vestiges of heat in his chest. He coughed up a mouthful of blood, splattering on the wet rock surface. The rock was slippery, covered with a translucent layer of ice, beneath which was a dark, vein-like pattern. He pushed himself up. His left hand pressed against the ice, the bone-chilling cold instantly piercing his skin, reaching his wrist. He shuddered, looking up, and saw a clearing. It was a frozen pool. The water was as black as ink, the surface undisturbed, yet it radiated an extreme chill. The edges of the pool were shrouded in white, colder than anywhere else in the cave, so thick they seemed like solid cotton. A figure stood in the mist. Mo Chen stood by the pool. His face was turned towards Lin Yi, barely visible in the mist. His voice was dry, like gravel rubbing together, each word a icicle, piercing Lin Yi's eardrum: **Come in.** Pause. **Or, I'll just explode your wrist, so you won't have to feed the wolves in Black Wind Cave.** Lin Yi didn't move. He stared at the stone altar, at the blurry, seemingly writhing words on it, his throat dry. The fingertips of his left hand, trembled slightly. Mo Chen remained turned away from him, his gaunt figure standing by the frozen pool, like a piece of wood stuck in ice. The water was so dark that even the faint light from the runes on the rock wall disappeared. "Afraid?"Mo Chen's voice drifted over, flat, and it was unclear whether it was a question or a statement. Lin Yi took a deep breath. The cold air sliced through his throat, into his lungs. He coughed twice, spitting out a mouthful of blood, which stained the wet rock surface. "Afraid," he said, his voice hoarse, but clear, "but I'm more afraid of dying without knowing why." He stepped forward. His feet "clicked" again, and he stepped on something else. This time he didn't look down. His gaze was fixed on the stone altar, one step at a time, moving towards it. It was only a few steps away, maybe ten or so. Each step, the numbness in his right arm grew stronger, the restraining ring on his left wrist tightened. When he reached the altar, a cold sweat broke out on his forehead, which immediately turned into ice crystals, hanging from his eyebrows. The altar was icy to the touch. Not the cold of stone, but the chilling, bone-deep cold that seeped into his marrow. The words carved on the altar were even more blurred up close. Some were deep, some were shallow, as if something had repeatedly rubbed against them, or as if they had been soaked in tears or blood. Lin Yi extended his left hand, his fingertips hovering over the carvings. He didn't touch them. "What are these?" he asked. "What do you want?" he asked. "Ancient runes," Muru said, still not turning around, "were used to communicate with 'Tian Ting' or 'Wen Xin' – the means to activate illusion spells." "That voice has no source, permeating the entire world," Muru continued, his eyes still fixed on the swirling mist. "Accompanied by the voice, a blurry light hovered in the air, radiating a suffocating pressure. The light was faint, indistinct, but I could 'see' its outline, the style of the robe, the intricate cloud-thunder patterns on the sleeves, and the cold, dismissive aura of someone in a position of power." "Master Xuanyin." The illusion continued. More fragments surfaced: the image of his father, Lin Zhenyue, wielding a sword to defend the ancestral hall, only to be overwhelmed by shadowy figures; the clan elders rallying, their protective barrier of golden lightning shattered by the relentless storm; the cries of children abruptly silenced… chaos, despair, death. Then, all the sounds, images, and smells abruptly converged, solidifying into a single, chilling question that slammed into Lin Yi's consciousness: "Do you hate them?" "Yes," Lin Yi's teeth clenched, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. "Do you want revenge?" "Yes. I want to tear them all apart." "At this moment?" … "If you were given the power, would you kill them all? Even the innocent civilians? Even those who were just following orders?" … "Then, what would happen? Would you become another one of them? Would you fill yourself with hatred, and ultimately…" The illusionary voice paused, shifting the scene to the desolate, frozen pool, the cold stone platform, "Would you freeze to death on this platform, just like you did three hundred years ago?" Lin Yi's mind screamed. He saw himself – the version of himself within the illusion – sitting on the platform, enveloped in a suffocating darkness. His face was contorted in a grotesque grimace, but his lips were curled into a satisfied smile. The eyes reflected in the pool were empty, cruel, and indistinguishable from those of the soldiers… nothing more. "No…" Lin Yi gasped in his waking state. He scrambled back from the stone, his body trembling with the effort. The cold sweat soaked his clothes, quickly turning them heavy and clammy. The illusion's heat warred with the pool's chilling cold, tearing at every nerve. Tears mixed with sweat streamed down his face. He bit his lip, forcing himself to remain silent, to stifle the cries that threatened to erupt. After what felt like an eternity, perhaps just a few moments, perhaps even a few hours. The crushing weight of the illusion finally lifted. Lin Yi collapsed on the stone, his body limp and lifeless. He gasped for air, each breath a searing agony. His vision blurred, the only thing he could focus on was the vague outline of the rock wall above and the faint, cold glow of the runes. Mo Chen stood by the pool, his back to Lin Yi. The old man's figure was silhouetted against the swirling mist, appearing gaunt and unchanged, like a timeless stone. "Have you understood?" Mo Chen's voice was calm, devoid of emotion, like a simple observation about the weather. "This is not a personal vendetta." He paused, each word a heavy stone dropped into the silent pool. "This is a cleansing." "The the Lin family… was simply a name on a list." Lin Yi lay on the stone, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "What list?" Lin Yi's throat was dry, his voice hoarse. "What list are you talking about?" "The List of Marked Individuals," Mo Chen replied. "Every hundred years, the Heavenly Order Maintenance – those who call themselves the 'Keepers of the Way' – initiates a purge. Those with aberrant spiritual energy, those with bloodlines that defy the natural order, those whose fates clash with the established rules… they are all marked for elimination." He paused. "Three hundred years ago, the Temple of Heaven was destroyed for its blasphemous 'Heaven's Dao has flaws' calculations. One hundred and fifty years ago, the South-Westering Witch Clan was annihilated for their bloodline's awakening. Seventeen years ago…" Mo Chen's gaze fixed on Lin Yi's face. "The the Lin family… was marked as a Level One risk because their firstborn, Lin Yi, was born with 'Nine Aperture Clarity'." Lin Yi clawed at the stone. The pain of the rough edges was real, so real that he could feel the stone digging into his skin. But the true agony was the feeling that something was wrong, deeply, fundamentally 1. “So, because of me… being born with something special?” “Or because you have the potential to see ‘things that shouldn’t be seen.’” Muru corrected, “The Nine-Hole Enlightenment Body, rumored to pierce the heavens and witness the cracks in the divine order, even… manipulate the fundamental rules. For the Pure World Sect, such potential is a fire that must be extinguished.” “So they sent the Xiao family…” Lin Yi clenched his jaw, the numbness in his right arm spreading up his shoulder, “To eliminate everyone?” “The Xiao family are the executors, and also the beneficiaries.” Muru’s tone was like a weather report, “After clearing the Lin family, they took control of one-third of the mines and seven spiritual fields, as well as Lin’s position within the Heavenly Origin Sect. As for who actually gave the order…” He raised his hand, gesturing in the misty air. The grayish-white mist condensed into a blurry shape. A figure hovered in the air, dressed in a wide, loose robe, his face shrouded in a vast and serene light, impossible to discern clearly. But the feeling of superiority, of looking down on everything as mere dust, that Lin Yi had experienced in the illusion, was present here. “Xuan Yin.” He spoke the name, each syllable drawn out as if from the depths of his throat, “Is he a member of the Pure World Sect?” “He is one of the officials of the Pure World Sect in the Yunzhou branch.” Muru dismissed the figure, “When you saw him at the Law Enforcement Hall, he should have recognized the ‘Heavenly Order Chain’ on your body – a forbidden mark used by the Pure World Sect to identify high-risk targets. He didn’t kill you on the spot, but sent you to the Black Wind Cave…” Muru paused, a flicker of faint irony in his gray eyes. “Or… the Black Wind Cave held something he didn’t want anyone to see. And a ‘rebel’ with a dying wish is the perfect test subject.” The cold touch of the stone seeped into his bones. Lin Yi slowly straightened his upper body. His left arm trembled, but he could still use it. He wiped his face with the back of his left hand, the ice and blood mixing together, leaving a stinging sensation on his skin. “Tell me,” he raised his eyes to Muru, “What do you want me to do?” Muru didn’t answer immediately. He walked to the edge of the icy pool and reached into the pitch-black water, retrieving a fist-sized stone. The stone was covered in honeycomb-like holes, and the holes were filled with shimmering blue ice crystals. He held the stone in his hand, gently stroking the crystals with his fingertips. “You have two choices.” His voice was flat, like stating a fact. “The first: to completely succumb to despair. To abandon revenge, to erase the past, and to hide away in a place where no one can find you. The Pure World Sect has a long list, and as long as you don’t reveal yourself, they might eventually consider you a case already closed. You can live – like a rat in a sewer.” Lin Yi’s breath caught for a moment. “The second: to strike out immediately. To take the information I’m giving you, and go to the Heavenly Origin Sect’s Law Enforcement Hall, and expose Xuan Yin and the Pure World Sect in front of everyone. You will die, a very messy death, but you can still scream their names before you die. It will be a glorious, clean death, like a martyr.” Muru turned to face him, placing the stone on the edge of the icy pool. “Choose.” The icy pool was silent. Only deep within, the sound of ice crystals shifting and cracking echoed, like a giant beast turning over. Lin Yi stared at the blue stone, the runes on the rock walls reflecting the faint light, flashing, flashing. He thought of his mother’s hand in the illusion. Cold, trembling, but holding him firm in the deepest corner of the cellar. She looked at him with her last gaze, not with fear, but with something heavier – like pressing all her unfulfilled wishes into that single glance. He also remembered his father. The man who, during the “Heavenly Punishment,” had his eyes filled with relief when it was over. The man who had ignored him for three years, letting him live a miserable life in the mountains. The man… who might have known all along, but chose to remain silent. The absurdity in his chest was fermenting, swelling, and finally exploding into a cold, icy fire. “Surrender…” Lin Yi spoke, his voice hoarse, but each word was clearly enunciated, “To “I have to survive.” He said, slowly and deliberately, “I will become stronger than Xiao Han, stronger than Xuan Yin, stronger than all of you. Then… I will settle the score, according to my own rules.” He paused, adding: “As for how to settle the score, I will decide.” The silence in the cave was broken only by the sound of the ice layer cracking deep within the Frost Pool. Dust, his robes remained motionless in the cold mist. He stared at Lin Yi, his eyes, deep and sharp, showed a subtle change—not admiration, not mockery, but rather a sense of observing a fascinating and unexpected variable. After a long silence. He emitted a very faint, almost mocking, sound. “Interesting.” Dust turned, and took out a small bottle from his sleeve, tossing it aside. The object flew through the air, landing on the stone. It was a small, black bottle. Not made of gold or jade, its surface was cool and smooth, like the bone of some deep-sea creature. “The ‘Shadow Grass’ at the bottom of the Frost Pool.” Dust’s voice returned to normal, “Chew it up and apply it to your wound on your right arm. It can temporarily block the ‘death energy’ that is attacking you, allowing you to move your left hand. It will be painful, like stuffing your entire arm into an ice cave, and then chipping it away inch by inch—endure it.” Lin Yi stared at the bottle, without moving. “As for the Black Wind Cave…” Dust paused, “The ‘Wolf Fang’, perhaps is not the only thing that can be exchanged.” Lin Yi suddenly looked up. Dust’s figure was already beginning to fade, like ink dissolving in water. The cold mist swirled around him, blurring his outline. “There are ‘things’ in the depths of the cave that ‘they’ don’t want to see.” The last words floated, light as a sigh, “You decide.” The grey figure completely disappeared. The Frost Pool cave returned to silence. Lin Yi stood alone at the edge of the stone. He held the black bottle in his left hand. The cold sensation from the bottle, made his fingertips slightly numb. He looked down at his right arm—the skin under his sleeve had turned a dark, ominous blue, and the numbness was slowly and steadily spreading towards his shoulder. He remembered Dust’s words. “Stuff your entire arm into an ice cave, and then chip it away inch by inch.” Lin Yi wrinkled his mouth. He opened the bottle. Inside were several small, almost transparent leaves, their edges covered in fine ice crystals, emitting an extreme cold, like a chill that could freeze the soul. Without hesitation. He took one out, and put it in his mouth, chewing it. The moment the leaves were crushed, the extreme cold exploded. Not a taste of cold, but a pure, “freezing” sensation that penetrated the nerves. The mucous membranes of his mouth instantly lost sensation, his tongue turned to stone. He forced himself to continue chewing, until the leaves turned into a paste of ice and grass. Then, he lifted his right arm. The wound in the middle of his chest—three deep, visible claw marks, the edges of his skin were torn and bleeding, grey—revealed a dark, black, and wriggling mass deep within, like living vines. Lin Yi applied the paste to the wound. “Ugh——!” A groan escaped from his teeth. Not pain. But something far more terrifying—the “disappearance”. His right arm, from the fingertips, began to lose sensation. Not numbness, but a complete “non-existence”. As if that arm had been ripped from the very concept of his body, leaving only a blank, icy shell. The cold flowed through his veins, back through his shoulder, back through his chest, back to his heart— “Thump.” His heart stopped. Lin Yi collapsed on the stone. His left hand gripped the edge of the stone tightly. His vision went dark, and a sharp ringing filled his ears. He opened his mouth, but could not breathe. His lungs were frozen. His blood had turned to ice. He was dying. This thought was clear as a shard of ice. Then, the extreme cold suddenly receded. Like the tide going out. The feeling of being frozen began to recede from his heart, back through his chest, back through his shoulder, finally solidifying in the wound on his right arm. The black, wriggling mass stopped moving, covered in a layer of blue ice. The numbness remained, but it was no longer the invasive, spreading death energy, but a pure, physical cold. Lin Yi collapsed on the stone, gasping for air. Each Although he was still trembling, his fingers were now able to bend and grasp. He leaned against the stone, watching his left hand regain sensation, and then glanced at the layer of blue ice that covered his right arm. Mo Chen hadn't lied to him. The Yin-Ning grass had temporarily suppressed the energy of death. The price was that his entire right arm was now completely numb and immobile, like a frozen stick. But at least, his left hand was still functional. At least, he wouldn't completely lose his right arm to that insidious death energy. Lin Yi slowly stood up. He picked up the black vial from the ground, carefully placing the remaining Yin-Ning grass inside. Then, he looked towards the dark cave – the narrow, rocky path leading to the Black Wind Cave, shrouded in cold mist. Mo Chen's last words echoed in his mind. "In the depths of the cave, there are 'things' that 'they' don't want anyone to see." "You decide." Lin Yi clenched his left hand. He had considered it. The wolf teeth of the Black Wind Cave might not be the only thing that could intertwine. But the "old things" in the depths of the cave were likely connected to his family's "cleansing," Netse, and Xuan Yin Zhenren… in ways he couldn't yet comprehend. Five days had passed. He wrung out the damp corners of his clothes, placing the Yin-Ning grass vial in his pocket, and took another step forward. The mist ahead seemed even thicker.