Chapter 26: The Return of Faded Memories
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
Qin Ming noticed that his younger self was poorly dressed, but his eyes were drawn to a thin, old booklet clutched tightly in his small hands.
It was an ancient, slender volume, and when he opened it, he found delicate silk pages inside. The beast-hide cover must have been added later. Its color was dull, the texture rough yet sturdy—designed to withstand the passage of time and protect the precious writings within.
On the first page, Qin Ming saw something he knew all too well: the “Wild Paths.” The text was dense, almost like whispers in the wind, and he could almost hear them being read aloud.
The hand—rough and calloused—turned to the second page. The writing was still tiny, carrying on from where it left off, but now there were new words and symbols mixed in. Qin Ming’s eyes widened, and he quickly memorized them.
Or maybe he didn’t need to memorize them at all—these were his lost childhood memories. He was going through a second awakening; his physical abilities had greatly improved, and his mind felt sharper than ever. It was like wiping away the dust of time, allowing him to see those old scenes again and recall the records on the silk pages he had once read.
Half-awake and half-asleep, Qin Ming tried to turn to the third page, but he couldn’t. That large hand wouldn’t help him open it.
At that moment, he took a closer look at the silk book, protected by the sturdy beast skin. After enduring so many years, it had lost its original shine, now slightly yellowed, holding an ancient beauty and a deep sense of history.
It was indeed very thin—probably only ten or twenty pages. Qin Ming tried several times to turn to the third page, but it wouldn’t budge.
He stopped trying and, through the mists of time, looked at his younger self—that small figure in worn-out clothes. Even in this half-dream state, Qin Ming felt a pang of sadness. His younger self had lived such a hard life. The little clothes were faded and patched; the cuffs were frayed, and his tiny shoes had holes.
He sighed softly, thinking about his later years. His teenage years hadn’t been much better. He’d suffered frostbite, gone hungry, and had his body bloodied and bruised. Two years ago, he had fallen ill outside Silver Vine Town and was brought back to Twin Trees Village.
“Fourteen…” Qin Ming touched the back of his head where there had once been a deep wound that had bled a lot.
Suddenly, he realized he was awake, not dreaming. His fingers ran through his black hair, feeling for the spot where the wound had been. There was no scar anymore; it must have disappeared during his first awakening.
“My younger self, my fourteen-year-old self—two different points in time, with broken memories in between. Those faded faces always show up in my dreams.”
It was at fourteen that he’d wandered homeless, enduring hardships. Now, he was more mature than others his age.
Qin Ming looked outside; the thick night was slowly giving way to dawn. He walked into the courtyard, took a deep breath of the cold morning air, and recalled his childhood memories again. The contents of the first two pages of the silk book were now clear in his mind.
He began to practice movements he hadn’t tried before, adjusting his breathing and mental focus. He thought deeply about each one and studied them carefully.
After a long while, he stopped. His body was still warm but no longer glowing, and he looked almost normal.
“That rough, big hand…” Qin Ming remembered. The cuff of that hand was worn, and the hand was full of calluses. It showed that the owner lived the same poor life as his younger self—much less comfortable than his current situation.
The so-called “big hand” was considered big in the eyes of his younger self—full of strength and giving a sense of security. He wished he could see his small hand holding that big one, making up for the regret of not seeing his family all these years.
“The second awakening isn’t over yet. Tonight, I’ll keep eating the blood snake with spiritual essence. As my body gets stronger, my mind will grow too. Maybe I’ll see more of the past in my dreams, and more of those faded childhood memories will come back.”
Thinking of this, Qin Ming suddenly felt energized. He picked up a heavy millstone and weighed it in his hand—it felt surprisingly light! He guessed he could now lift about fifteen hundred pounds.
As dawn approached, Qin Ming washed his warm body. Today, he didn’t plan to go hunting in the mountains. He wanted to study the newly remembered scriptures from the silk book at home.
“Why did they say it can’t be practiced?” he wondered. He hoped that when night came, he could find the answer in his dreams.
The silk book clearly had a special origin and had been carefully preserved, as if someone feared it would be lost. The wind and snow had stopped, and the night grew a little brighter. This was a “clear day” in this sunless era.
Qin Ming delved deeper into the silk book. Although he’d only seen two pages, they were packed with tiny words. More than half of the content on the second page was new to him; the memories that resurfaced needed careful thought and practice.
“It’s so intricate. Too bad I can’t compare it with intermediate meditation techniques or advanced Qi arts. I don’t know its exact level.”
In this remote place, Qin Ming had limited ways to awaken. Apart from the silk book, the only other thing he’d read was the common “Introductory Guide to Black Night Meditation.”
The silk book mentioned “Celestial Light,” but only briefly, and it didn’t explain how to cultivate “Celestial Light Aura,” let alone the highly esteemed “Tathagata Aura.”
Qin Ming frowned. The silk book was definitely something special, but why didn’t it have a detailed explanation of the key Celestial Light?
He read carefully, practicing in the courtyard repeatedly, and finally came up with a guess. The silk book aimed to convey more with fewer words. If someone persisted in practicing as described, the body’s flesh and blood would naturally give birth to Celestial Light, enhancing essence, Qi, and spirit.
But the cultivation method for the Celestial Light Aura wasn’t explained.
“Maybe it focuses on elevating life’s level without specific methods to protect the path?” This thought left Qin Ming puzzled.
By afternoon, when the dim night was at its brightest, Qin Ming rubbed his temples. After half a day of studying, his mind was a bit tired, but he felt he’d thoroughly understood the new content in the silk book.
When he practiced again, his movements were fluid, blending with the environment around him. His eyes were focused yet calm; his hair gently swayed. He had an air of freedom and ease.
Most importantly, the warm currents in his body surged. The silver ripples on his skin became more solid, almost turning into “silver paste.”
The silk book didn’t specify what level he’d reach or what state would emerge, so Qin Ming couldn’t judge how well he’d done.
He stopped to rest. Even standing there, he looked naturally lively, adding a touch of elegance to his demeanor.
“Hey, Qin! Come out; we’re heading into the mountains to check out some ruins,” Xu Yue Ping called out.
Qin Ming had originally planned to focus on the silk book, but since he’d already grasped its content, he decided to go out.
“What ruins?” he asked.
Xu Yue Ping grinned. “The patrol team’s base! Let’s see what traces that ‘wise mountain god’—uh, I mean mountain monster—left behind.”
Then he lowered his voice, “Maybe we’ll find something good there.”
It wasn’t a sudden idea; the leaders of several villages had secretly met and decided not to plant black moon anymore. They agreed to check out the base.
“Alright, let’s go!” Qin Ming nodded.
Recently, even the new awakeners from each village had to travel together in groups to dare venture deeper into the forest; otherwise, it was extremely risky. Not everyone dared to wander the mountains alone like Qin Ming. After all, it all came down to strength.
“Hey, there’s a pile of fine wine here!” Qin Ming called to Xu Yue Ping. He knew this base well; the memories of flashing blades in the snowy night were still fresh in his mind.
Xu Yue Ping and Yang Yong Qing immediately ran over, excited. This “ruins exploration” was really about seeing if there was anything useful left behind. The men from the village were straightforward and direct.
Old Liu’s face lit up with joy. His legs didn’t feel weak anymore; he leaped nearly a meter high and dashed over swiftly.
Qin Ming laughed. “Grandpa Liu, how about it? I told you yesterday I’d give you ten jars of good wine. Today, we found such a stash. Let’s split it up and take it back.”
“Good, good, good!” Old Liu repeated, eager to crack open a jar right now and taste the wine.
“Digging up the patrol team’s place feels strangely satisfying, haha,” Xu Yue Ping chuckled non-stop.
The new awakeners from other villages noticed the commotion. In the end, Twin Trees Village took away over thirty jars, leaving the rest for the other villages. Although Qin Ming had found them, he couldn’t take them all; otherwise, someone might cause trouble later.
Actually, the patrol team’s investigators had already been here and found these fine wines, but they had more important tasks and didn’t bother with the wine, so they left it. After the news spread, more people came. The patrol team’s base became a hotspot for looting.
“Could it be that this guy killed all the patrol team members?” Qin Ming was surprised when he saw a wanted poster after returning from the mountains.
It was the man with the dark, bluish face. To be honest, his depiction wielding a sword to slay the blood snake looked pretty impressive. People from Silver Vine Town had brought a stack of posters, urging each village to stay vigilant and report any sightings.
The patrol team wasn’t a weak organization; their highest-ranking officer was a big shot from Scarlet Dawn City.
“His name is Wang Nian Zhu. He looks heroic and spirited. Who would’ve thought he’d be such a person?” Qin Ming hadn’t expected that after killing him, he’d see the man’s portrait and learn his name.
“Well, at least you didn’t die unnoticed. Your portrait is being posted in all the towns around here. For a while, you’re quite famous, even if this place is remote.” Qin Ming glanced a few times and then moved on. A man he’d already taken care of wasn’t worth his attention.
“But which family or group was he from? I hope the patrol team finds out.” He then thought of Golden Rooster Ridge and the Three-Eyed Sect—those needed watching too.
That night, after Qin Ming ate some blood snake meat, the medicinal effects quickly kicked in. His whole body became warm and started to glow again, just like last time. Finally, he fell asleep wearing his “golden-threaded jade garment.”
Qin Ming once again saw his younger self. Though poor, wearing ragged clothes and shoes, he seemed determined, practicing the awakening method from the silk book over and over.
“If it’s so great, why can’t it be practiced?” his young self asked stubbornly, unwilling to give up.
“Some extraordinary people once practiced the method in the silk book and ended up killing themselves. They were among the founders,” the big hand stroked the beast-hide cover of the silk book.
“What do you mean?” Young Qin Ming was confused.
“Some paths are too bright, and others have uncertain futures. Several old folks couldn’t accept it and studied together, trying to match those brilliant paths. The theory was sound, but in the end, they abandoned their original achievements and switched to this method. Some died, some were injured, and some, with little life left, journeyed to the ends of the dark lands. They couldn’t succeed; how could those who come after?”
“If it can’t be practiced, why keep it?” Young Qin Ming still didn’t want to give up, as this was the only extraordinary method he had.
“The parts that couldn’t be practiced were torn out, leaving only a small portion. But even so, it requires someone who has practiced this method to help you get started. So don’t pay too much attention to this silk book.”
“What happened to the parts that were torn out?” Young Qin Ming was still reluctant to let go.
“They were burned.”
Young Qin Ming fell silent, looking down at his little shoes with toes poking out.
As dawn approached, Qin Ming woke up. He sighed softly. He had thought he’d obtained some heavenly scripture, but it seemed he’d been overthinking. He needed to pay more attention to other advanced Qi arts in the future.
But then he was lost in thought. No one had helped him, yet he’d still managed to practice the first two pages of the silk book.
“Even if I succeeded, so what? The rest of the silk book was burned. Besides, the people who created the method couldn’t do it themselves; they ended up destroying themselves. So many years have passed; the others are probably no longer in this world.”
Qin Ming got up and walked into the courtyard, feeling the changes in himself. This second awakening, aided by spiritual substances, was fast and intense. He had already succeeded.
He felt that now, even with one arm, he could lift a thousand pounds.
Two days later, Cao Long, Wei Zhi Rou, and Mu Qing sent word that the higher-ups were going to have a final negotiation with the top creatures in the mountains. The meeting point was at the entrance outside the mountain range.
By this time, many people were already waiting.
In the snowy landscape, a donkey ambled leisurely, stepping through the snow.
“That must be the mount of some big shot from Scarlet Dawn City, right?” someone whispered.
As the donkey approached, people realized its back wasn’t empty. There was a creature sitting cross-legged, but it wasn’t human—it was a pure white weasel, very quiet, like an old monk in meditation.
The first creature to appear was so strange that many people didn’t dare to speak.