Chapter 54: Secrets and True Names
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
The air was cool and damp as Qin Ming stepped into the dense forest along the roadside. His every movement was deliberate, the weight of his thoughts mirrored in the rustle of leaves around him. With a firm grip on the White Jade Alloy Blade, he began digging into the earth, creating a deep pit under the shade of the tall trees.
When he was done, he reached into his pack and pulled out a palm-sized piece of tattered cloth. Its edges were frayed, and a faint, unsettling aura seemed to linger around it. Without hesitation, he dropped it into the pit.
“Worried it might cause trouble?” Old Liu’s gruff voice cut through the silence. He stood leaning against a nearby tree, his arms crossed, watching Qin Ming closely.
Qin Ming nodded, his expression grave. “It’s not worth the risk.”
To ensure the eerie cloth wouldn’t be easily disturbed, he tossed a recently caught wild rabbit into the hole as well. The rabbit’s presence would throw off any wandering beasts that might sniff around the site. Qin Ming’s caution was born of his encounter with the strange, shadowy figure—a young man formed of black mist whose icy, sinister impression lingered like a phantom.
Satisfied, Qin Ming filled the pit with earth, patting it down firmly.
“Let’s go,” he said, slinging his pack over his shoulder.
The two men found respite in Silver Vine Town, where they treated themselves to a steaming breakfast of wild mushroom soup and fresh bread. Afterward, they roamed the bustling streets, weaving through merchants hawking their wares and children chasing each other between stalls. The vibrant atmosphere was a stark contrast to the tension of their earlier task.
Eventually, they arrived at their destination: the Wu family residence. Once a grand estate, it now stood weathered and worn. The red lacquer on its large, imposing doors had mostly peeled away, leaving behind splinters and faded memories. The brass rings that once shone with pride now dulled with tarnish.
“Old Wu, open up!” Old Liu called out, rapping the brass ring against the door.
“Coming, coming,” answered a voice from within. The door creaked open, revealing a gray-haired man with a stooped posture and weary eyes. He beckoned them inside with a faint smile.
The courtyard was vast, a relic of the family’s past splendor. But cracks riddled the stone tiles underfoot, and the flowerbeds, once vibrant with exotic blooms, had been replaced by vegetable patches. A few dry, withered gourd vines clung pitifully to the remnants of a once-impressive rockery.
Despite its four courtyards, the estate bore the unmistakable marks of neglect and decay. The Wu family, once a name synonymous with power and prestige, had long since fallen into obscurity.
Old Liu and Qin Ming followed their host through the forlorn halls. The house was quiet, save for the soft creaks of floorboards beneath their steps. A teenage boy appeared briefly, serving them cups of coarse tea before retreating into the shadows.
Old Liu sipped the tea, its bitter flavor drawing a satisfied sigh from him. “Old Wu,” he began bluntly, “let’s cut to the chase. You know why we’re here. Name your price.”
Old Wu settled into his chair with a weary sigh. “It’s not an easy thing for me, you know,” he said, his voice tinged with sorrow. “The Wu family was so glorious once. Four generations ago, we had a five-time Awakened powerhouse who was unmatched in this entire region. And before that—” He paused, shaking his head. “Well, our ancestors were even greater. Now, look at me. Selling off family treasures to make ends meet. It’s shameful. Truly shameful.”
The old man’s eyes wandered around the room, its walls once adorned with intricate carvings and shimmering embellishments, now faded and marred by time.
“Come on, Old Wu,” Old Liu said with a chuckle. “Who hasn’t had their moments of glory? My Liu family used to be royalty, you know. Do I sit around lamenting it?”
Old Wu scoffed. “Royalty? Bah, your family’s ‘glory’ was so far back it’s practically myth. Don’t compare your Liu name to the Wu legacy.”
Sensing the conversation veering toward an argument, Qin Ming interjected. “Wu Elder, we’re only borrowing the manual. We promise its contents won’t leave our hands.” Reaching into his pouch, he pulled out five Daylight Gold coins, their golden glow catching the light as he placed them on the table.
Old Wu eyed the coins but shook his head firmly. “Not enough.”
Old Liu’s patience began to fray. “Old Wu, don’t push it. We’re borrowing it for a day—not taking it for life. Do you think this is some kind of divine scripture?”
The old man sighed, his gaze distant. “Once, I spent two Daylight Gold in a single night at Bright Moon Tower in Red Glow City.”
Old Liu burst into laughter. “And you’re still bragging about that? Be careful your wife doesn’t hear you!”
Qin Ming, observing the exchange, began to understand why the Wu family had fallen so far. It seemed Old Wu’s younger days had been marked by extravagance. Without a word, Qin Ming added another two coins to the pile. Then three more.
Finally, with fifteen Daylight Gold coins shimmering before him, Old Wu relented. “A disgraceful descendant, selling off the treasures of his ancestors,” he muttered. With slow, deliberate movements, he retrieved a worn, animal-hide book from his robe and placed it on the table. Its aged, weathered cover exuded an air of history and weight.
Qin Ming’s eyes scanned the manual with unrelenting focus. It contained secrets of the Wu family’s Awakening Method, passed down through generations. Though its insights weren’t as profound as those in the silk manuscript he had studied before, they carried the essence of the Wu ancestors’ struggles and triumphs.
For hours, he immersed himself in the manual, his surroundings fading into irrelevance. Old Liu, too, eagerly flipped through its pages, comparing its teachings to his own fragmented knowledge.
But as Old Liu glanced up, his breath caught in his throat. Qin Ming sat with his eyes closed, his fingertips glowing faintly with threads of Celestial Light, sharp and pure.
Old Liu could hardly believe it. The boy had barely read the manual, yet he was already manifesting its essence. For someone like Old Liu, who had spent years chasing such mastery, the sight was both awe-inspiring and humbling.
“You can take your time reading, Elder,” Qin Ming said softly, his voice steady as he stood. “I’ll head back to reflect.”
Qin Ming stepped out of the Wu family’s residence, the door creaking faintly behind him. The crisp evening air greeted him as Old Wu, standing under the dim light of an old lantern in the courtyard, raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Leaving already? You’re not staying to study the manual longer?” Old Wu’s voice carried both curiosity and concern.
Qin Ming adjusted the pack on his shoulder and nodded, his expression calm. “The material is complex and impressive, but it doesn’t fully align with my style.”
Old Wu’s wrinkled features softened, a hint of relief replacing his earlier surprise. He stepped closer, resting a hand on Qin Ming’s shoulder. “That’s understandable. This manual is exceptionally profound. I’ve spent half a lifetime studying it, and still, I’ve only scratched the surface.”
“It’s remarkable,” Qin Ming agreed with a small smile before turning to leave. “Thank you for letting me study it.”
Old Wu watched as Qin Ming walked away, the young man’s steps purposeful and steady.
By the time Qin Ming returned to the village, the first stars had appeared in the sky. At the entrance, he saw Yang Yong Qing crouched beside a tall black goat, stroking its sleek coat. The young man murmured softly to the animal, his voice carrying through the still night.
“Soon, Yong Hei,” Yang Yong Qing whispered, his tone affectionate. “In four days, we’ll head to Golden Rooster Ridge. You’ll need your strength.”
Qin Ming gave a nod of acknowledgment as he passed but said nothing. Yang Yong Qing barely noticed, too absorbed in his quiet conversation with the goat.
Reaching his modest courtyard, Qin Ming placed his belongings down and sat cross-legged on the worn wooden floor. The night air was cool, and the faint rustle of leaves outside provided a calming backdrop. From his pack, he retrieved the manual he’d been studying and focused on a section describing Sharp Force, a technique known for its remarkable penetrative power. The text explained that, once mastered, it could pierce through armor with ease.
Sharp Force overlapped with the principles of Nail Force, another skill Qin Ming had already begun to explore. He realized that training both together might unlock new possibilities—perhaps even a seamless fusion. The thought intrigued him, and he began to practice, channeling his Celestial Light Force into precise, sharp flows.
The Wu ancestors had built their legacy on such techniques, their mastery of spear and bow unmatched in the region. Their strikes, whether with arrows or spear thrusts, had been feared for generations. Qin Ming marveled at the meticulous notes inscribed on animal hide. These weren’t just instructions; they were windows into an era where survival demanded ingenuity and mastery.
One passage in particular caught his attention. It described the medicinal properties of a rare three-colored flower. Grown on Spirit Mountain, these flowers were known to enhance the Celestial Light Force within the human body, nourishing and strengthening it. However, the text also spoke of supreme-grade variants, flowers born from Celestial Light itself. These were far more potent but carried a dangerous side effect: their raw essence eroded the body from within.
“Only a rare few with extraordinary constitutions can withstand such power,” Qin Ming read aloud, his brow furrowing.
He thought of Huang Jing De, the man’s ever-smiling face flashing in his mind. Huang had once hinted at the flower’s potential during their journey through the underground cavern, yet conveniently omitted its dangers.
Closing the manual, Qin Ming’s resolve hardened. His body, fortified through countless trials, had endured the violent nature of Celestial Light before. He was confident it could handle the supreme-grade flower.
Meanwhile, deep within the mountains near the Great Canyon, two figures stood in the flickering light of a campfire. They were bandit leaders from the notorious Golden Rooster Ridge group, their faces shadowed but tense.
“You don’t think he’s targeting the younger folks again, do you?” one asked, his voice low and wary.
The other shook his head, his expression grim. “I’ve warned him before. If the bodies keep piling up, the higher-ups in Red Glow City will notice. Then we’ll all be in trouble.”
“Is he really a person beyond the boundaries?” the first leader asked, skepticism lacing his tone. “He’s so cold… it doesn’t fit the image of those godlike beings.”
“Just because he doesn’t show his true form doesn’t mean anything,” the second replied. “But his methods… they’re not orthodox.”
Their hushed conversation drifted into silence as they remembered an earlier encounter. The shadowy youth who commanded them to guard this place had wielded a golden token, his presence both commanding and unsettling. Now, he was nowhere to be seen.
Back in his courtyard, Qin Ming opened a jade box, revealing a three-colored flower. Its vibrant petals shimmered under the moonlight, radiating a mist of spiritual energy. As he gazed at it, fragments of memories stirred in his mind. Since his three-time awakening, disjointed images from his past had begun to surface. He dipped a finger in tea and traced a single character on the table: “?” (Abandon).
“Cui Chong He,” he murmured, writing the name beneath the character. His voice was barely audible, yet the words felt heavy. “Cui Chong He… Is that my real name? But why does the thought of them fill me with such disgust?”