Chapter 81

“So the wooden bead refers to this bead—but what does this bead represent?” the black cat murmured, “Pei Ye, Pei Ye? What are you thinking?”

Pei Ye snapped out of his thoughts and whispered, “I’m thinking this actually happened.”

The black cat paused for a moment: “Yes, at least the bead is real.”

“No.” Pei Ye lifted his head to look at it, softly saying, “I mean, all of it is real—Xi Wu Chou is real too.”

“...”

The thoughts of the man and the cat clearly weren’t aligned, yet it didn’t hinder their conversation; hearing this, the black cat suddenly had an epiphany: “Yes... Xi Wu Chou is real too—he’s the one who brought the bead here, and the bead... the bead... is the divine art he sought!”

The black cat’s reasoning now flowed smoothly: “Do you remember? In the second account, when Xi Wu Chou first met the scholar, there was mention of ‘Ghost Carriage descending from the north.’ Ghost Carriage Mountain is the ancient name; later dynasties mistakenly called it Kuiju Mountain—the very mountain south of where the scholar lived. It was in the fields north of that mountain that the scholar dug up this bead!”

Pei Ye’s thoughts were drawn back to this, and he slowly nodded.

“And this divine art is almost certainly The Granting of Sustenance.”

Pei Ye said: “That seems right—but how could The Granting of Sustenance be a single bead?”

“I don’t know.” The black cat spoke quickly, “Don’t dwell on that. What matters now is finding it... it was in Xi Wu Chou’s hands—but where is Xi Wu Chou now?”

Suddenly, its body stiffened; it had realized something, its emerald eyes wide with shock as it stared at the boy.

Pei Ye met its gaze and whispered, “Let’s go.”

County government office

The sky had plunged into complete darkness; the wind had grown fierce, and the corridor in the courtyard began to howl.

Yue Muzhou suspected heaven truly kept an account book: a person’s lifetime luck is finite; if you squander too much in the first half, heaven will reclaim every last bit in the second half, never making a loss.

In the first twenty-odd years, he had survived too many perils, created too many miracles—aside from some scars—not even one on his face—and had escaped without a single disability, which was simply unbelievable.

He had once believed that was his permanent state.

Later, of course, he learned it wasn’t.

But he never imagined this debt, collected over twenty years, still wasn’t settled—until today, heaven finally intended to strike out the last entry in its ledger.

Yue Muzhou cast a glance, with nonexistent eyes, toward the imagined sky.

Just fifteen days away.

So similar to eighteen years ago.

The difference was, eighteen years ago, he still had a choice: the first time, he could have refused to enter that mansion; the second time, he could have ignored the girl.

Now, even the chance to choose was denied him—after nearly eighteen years of suffering, death descended upon him directly, just fifteen days before the end.

Yue Muzhou couldn’t help but sneer: perhaps heaven knew that even if given the chance, he’d still seek death, so it simply skipped the step.

But I’ve reformed, haven’t I?

Eighteen years have passed—how do you know I haven’t grown wiser?

Only by preserving myself can I better punish evil and uphold justice—I long ago understood this truth.

Please, just give me one more chance, Yue Muzhou lazily thought.

This would be his final thought.

For the chill was already drawing near.

Would it pierce his body, or sever his head?

Or—would nothing happen at all?

The cold blade pressed against his abdomen—but did not advance; instead, he himself felt hunger.

The hunger grew stronger, and the creature before him remained perfectly still, waiting... almost obediently.

A silence of roughly ten breaths passed.

Yue Muzhou attempted to obey the craving in his belly; trembling, he extended his hand. When his arm reached halfway, his fingertips touched something hard and cold.

Like a suit of iron armor—but iron armor has gaps; the human body within is soft, and pressing it yields slightly.

But the creature before him was different: dense, tightly packed scales, muscles like iron, bones like steel, and a chilling body temperature—like a solid iron wall cast into the ground.

Yet the moment his touch made contact, the hardness softened—and then the softened substance clung to his fingertips, surging rapidly into his body.

But it remained icy cold, like molten iron poured into his veins; Yue Muzhou shuddered violently, yet soon a powerful suction from his belly drew every drop inward.

Standing beside him, Chang Zhiyuan was once again stunned by what he witnessed.

In his vision, the monster that had leapt up, flinging the guard into the house with a single strike, had originally intended to kill both of them on the spot—but now it had suddenly halted before the old Yue man.

And then the old man reached out—and actually absorbed the monster into himself!

But it wasn’t complete absorption: the monster had been poised to be entirely consumed, yet at that moment, its body split into two opposing tendencies.

—One portion of flesh and bone sought to return to its original state; another portion was pulled by the old man, forced to detach from the body, as if each part fled for its own survival.

The entire process concluded within two breaths. The old man lowered his hand, and the monster “spat out” a pale human form behind it.

Chang Zhiyuan didn’t need to have seen it—he knew this was Zhu Gaoyang.

And another portion of pale blue detached from the old man’s absorption, fleeing back into the body, shrinking into the heart.

Chang Zhiyuan didn’t know how to handle this situation; he instinctively turned to look at the old Yue man—and recoiled in shock.

The old man was slowly standing up!

Yue Muzhou had not felt this sensation in a very, very long time.

The feeling of Qi rising from the dantian, then flowing through every limb and vessel.

The Granting of Sustenance—it was said to restore the dantian seed in those who had lost theirs. Of course, because it itself was a dantian seed.

An ancient dantian seed, passed down since time immemorial.

The moment his bloody hand touched it that night, this unknown secret was unveiled.

Before entering his body, it was an unactivated “egg”; only after entering did it begin slowly absorbing heavenly and earthly xuan qi to nourish its own development.

And this process required eighteen years.

Nothing could shorten it—not food, not Qi, not miraculous pills. Yue Muzhou once believed it absorbed xuan qi at a fixed, uniform rate.

Until today, he finally found what it would willingly consume as “food.”

It was this monster.

Why this monster?

And why had this monster come to him, allowing itself to be devoured?

Yue Muzhou didn’t know—but the seed in his belly had truly begun to sprout; two tiny shoots burst forth.

And with the support of Qi, after eighteen years, Yue Muzhou stood again.

The fifteen-day gap vanished; fate had once again favored him.