Chapter 6: The Broken Dao Coin

“This is probably the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

Li Yi was breathing heavily, his heart still pounding, his body overwhelmed by an indescribable exhaustion, every muscle aching painfully.

He fled quickly.

Just half an hour later, Li Yi had left the ruins district and returned home to the old city area, temporarily safe.

Recalling what had just happened, even he found it unbelievable.

He had only wanted to earn a few ten thousand yuan to care for his parents, who were Silent Ones—but at the critical moment, he’d acted just like those gamblers, risking his life for an unknown artifact.

Fortunately, he had returned alive.

Had he failed, he would surely have spent his final moments consumed by regret.

“That dead Zhang Kaiwen was right: one life is ten thousand lives. To change this, you must risk it all—or else I’ll remain like everyone else, scurrying like a rat in this old, decaying city, rotting away one night with no trace left behind.”

“In that underground parking lot, when I made the decision, I felt my inner ambition swell—I wasn’t the kind to live quietly after all. I craved cultivation. I craved stirring the winds and clouds, becoming someone great.”

Li Yi closed his eyes and breathed deeply, again and again.

He thought back on his years of life, and felt only suffocating oppression.

Endless work, endless nutritional fluid—he had tried so hard, yet his family had gone from modest savings to utter destitution, then into crushing debt, and now he couldn’t even afford to repair the medical pods. His parents’ lives were about to be cut short.

He was only twenty. His life had just begun—why did it already feel over?

It shouldn’t be like this.

Li Yi opened his eyes again. His gaze no longer held the earlier fatigue or confusion—only resolve.

“But whether I can change anything depends on my luck this time—on whether I’ve gotten something valuable.”

Then he looked at the pile of dirty, tattered clothes he had been clutching.

These were the garments worn by the ancient tomb’s owner—styles and materials utterly unlike those of modern society, carrying an archaic flavor, yet different from traditional ancient attire; still, through the details, one could tell they had once been magnificent.

Li Yi slowly unfolded each garment, searching for anything unusual.

He had chosen to take this pile of rags because he believed that if the tomb held any precious artifacts, they would have been carried close to the body.

But the tomb had been looted before—whether anything remained was unknown.

“This garment has nothing… neither does this…”

As each garment was unfolded, Li Yi meticulously searched for anything of value.

Until the last garment was shaken out—a sharp clink echoed on the floor.

A broken object fell onto the living room tiles.

Li Yi immediately picked it up, examined it carefully, then hesitated: “Could this be an artifact? It doesn’t seem like it—no sign of any divine quality.”

The object in his hand resembled a small bronze knife, but now only half remained, bearing a twisted, winding inscription.

He tested it and found the bronze blade was dull.

After checking some data on his phone, Li Yi finally managed to conclude: “This isn’t a knife—it’s a coin. In the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, these were called dao coins.”

Aside from this half-coin, he searched the pile of rags again and again—but found nothing else.

This was the only thing Li Yi had brought back at the risk of his life.

“I’m not a cultivator. I don’t know if this half-coin has value. I need to find someone who understands artifacts—but they must be trustworthy, with no risk of exposure.”

He thought again, and immediately one person came to mind.

Biao Shu.

Biao Shu was his father’s friend. Six years ago, he had cultivated alongside Li Yi’s father. But Li Yi’s father had superior talent and progressed rapidly, while Biao Shu’s cultivation aptitude was poor. Eventually, Li Yi’s father had an accident and became a Silent One, his fate unknown; Biao Shu abandoned cultivation and opened a meditation studio in Tianchang City to teach newcomers.

Thinking of this, Li Yi immediately packed up the pile of rags and tucked the half-coin close to his body.

But he didn’t leave right away—he still had one thing to do.

He picked up his phone and called the medical pod’s after-sales repair line.

Soon, less than half an hour later, the after-sales engineer arrived.

“Mr. Li, I told you last time: the crystal chip in your other medical pod burned out from prolonged operation. The pod is past its six-year warranty period. The company can offer free repair, but you must purchase the damaged parts yourself—49,999 yuan.” The engineer, Hu Bing, said.

Li Yi replied: “I’ve gathered the money these past few days. I’ll pay you now—you won’t have come for nothing.”

“Good.” Engineer Hu Bing nodded.

Li Yi opened the bedroom door.

The room was brightly lit, but filled with the smell of alcohol and disinfectant.

There was no bed—only two medical pods, blinking with indicator lights, placed on the floor. Compared to the cramped, oppressive housing of the old city area, these high-tech pods seemed utterly out of place.

Each pod held a person.

The man had a strong, handsome face; the woman was beautiful, but her complexion was pale from years of unconsciousness.

Once, Li Yi’s parents had been a perfect couple—now they lay here like vegetative patients.

This state had lasted six full years.

“Dad. Mom.”

Though he knew there would be no reply, Li Yi still called out as he always did.

Engineer Hu Bing skillfully opened the panel of one medical pod and began repairs.

As the damaged part was replaced, the pod containing Li Yi’s mother resumed normal operation.

Seeing the improvement, Li Yi finally relaxed.

Engineer Hu Bing said: “Mr. Li, both pods’ nutritional fluid will run out in a day. Remember to buy and refill promptly. I recommend you stock up early if you can—more cultivators are appearing, demand for nutritional fluid is rising, and prices are already up. I expect them to rise further soon.”

“Increased?” Li Yi froze. “How much now per vial?”

“The most basic nutritional fluid is now a thousand yuan per vial,” Hu Bing said.

“So much… I understand. Thank you.” Li Yi fell silent.

“You’re welcome.” Engineer Hu Bing finished his repairs and left.

“The fifty thousand yuan I risked my life for is gone in an instant. I can’t stop now. But this has shown me: working hard to earn money won’t change anything. The only way is to change how I live.”

Li Yi touched the half-coin in his pocket, thinking silently.

These two pods had been bought with most of his parents’ savings before they fell into silence. Though they rarely needed maintenance, to sustain a Silent One’s life, nutritional fluid must be added monthly—or their bodies would starve to death.

One pod consumes at least three vials per month.

Since Li Yi’s family had two pods, they needed six vials.

That meant Li Yi needed at least 4,800 yuan per month to keep his parents alive.

Now that prices had risen, he needed at least 6,000 yuan per month.

At first, the family had savings—but over six years, they were gone. The car was sold. The house was sold. Fortunately, his grandparents’ old city area home remained, or he’d have to rent.

“Dad. Mom. I have something to do today—I can’t stay with you. But don’t worry. I won’t abandon you. I’ll take care of you. I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll be back.”

Li Yi knew he couldn’t waste time.

Lao Ya’s people could come for him at any moment.

Before that, he had to determine the value of what he held.

Immediately.

Li Yi grabbed a backpack, packed the pile of tomb rags, slung it over his shoulder, and stepped out with the half-coin.

Looking at the meager balance on his phone, he splurged on a taxi to Biao Shu’s meditation studio—to save time.