Chapter 35: The Mysterious Treasure in Hand
On this night—though one couldn’t really call it night anymore—the world had changed in the blink of an eye. In a time when the sun had vanished, even the less-dark evenings were usually foggy and hard to see through. Far-off mountains stood as nothing more than blurry, charcoal smudges against the star-speckled sky. But now, everything looked different. Deep within the heart of those towering peaks, ten enormous beams of dazzling light shot straight into the heavens, bright enough to make you squint. It was as though, for a brief, miraculous moment, daylight had returned.
In that brilliance, the world looked startlingly clear. You could see every rocky cliff and every green blade of grass clinging stubbornly to the mountain slopes. Even the strange birds dipping low across the sky were suddenly visible in all their vivid colors, like finely painted illustrations brought to life. It felt as though a dusty old curtain had been pulled away from everyone’s eyes. Instead of a world dim and shrouded, here it was—crisp, vibrant, and humming with energy. The air itself seemed warmer, as if springtime had stolen into the depths of winter without anyone noticing.
Old Man Liu, perched atop his big, yellow-furred dog, felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. “Seventy-something years I’ve been alive,” he said, voice trembling with astonishment. “Never in all my days have I seen anything so grand. Is this how the world was always meant to look? I’ve seen mountains and forests, sure, but always as if through a thin veil. Today, I finally see them properly.”
Cao Long spoke more quietly, as though careful not to spoil this moment. “It’s true there are cities out there—cities bigger than anything you can imagine…” He trailed off, suddenly feeling it was unwise to boast. After all, Old Man Liu had lived his whole life out here. No need to make him sad by talking about places he’d never get to visit. Cao Long cleared his throat and tried a different angle. “But honestly,” he went on, “those fabled cities don’t come close to this. They’d just be like little fireflies compared to this brilliance.”
Farther away, deep in those gleaming mountains, all sorts of powerful figures—the kind who belonged to ancient clans or commanded remarkable powers—had rushed toward the ten beams of light. They fought and struggled, desperate to claim whatever treasures had caused this spectacle. But Mu Qing, Wei Zhi Rou, Cao Long, and the others who stood apart didn’t follow them. They kept their distance, calmly watching as chaos raged. They understood that the glories being born in the heart of those lights were not meant for people like them. Even the strongest heroes who dared approach might only find bloodshed waiting. It was wiser to watch from afar.
Still, not everyone shared that wisdom. Many were too blinded by greed to think clearly, and they charged headlong into danger. Yet not all of them aimed for the highest prize. If they couldn’t snatch the treasure shining with ten brilliant colors, maybe they could settle for a place where only five-colored light shimmered. Even a smaller marvel would be worth a try. And so the battles spread. Soon, in one of those lesser places, the forest echoed with cries of pain and fear as countless fighters clashed. The trees and snow were stained a frightening crimson, and the survivors fled in panic.
“This place is a madhouse!” someone shouted. “There are more bodies here than near the ten-colored beams!”
“High-level creatures are guarding these lesser spots too!” another cried. “Run, before we end up as their dinner!”
Those who were sensible quickly backed off, unwilling to toss their lives away. This world might be rich with wonders, but none were worth dying for so foolishly.
Meanwhile, in the quieter stretches of the forest, enormous figures cloaked in mist trudged over rocks and ridges, closing in on the glowing nodes. Winged shapes, like giant hawks walking as humans, rushed forward to challenge them. The sky and mountains trembled with raw power.
Far at the edge of this tumult, Qin Ming stood near a ragged crack in the ground. He was just a teenager—at least he looked the part—and his voice carried that energetic edge that boys his age so often had. As the earth shook beneath him, he yelled, “Whoa! Is this an earthquake or what? I’m not sticking around in this hole—I’ll get buried alive!” He scrambled out of the crevice he’d been hiding in, heart thumping, eyes wide at the sight above. It was almost like morning had come back. Soft, glowing rain fell through the air, lighting up every tree and rocky ledge.
Qin Ming knew he was no match for the masters and monstrous beings tearing each other apart in the deep mountains. He had no illusions. Those dazzling treasures weren’t for a guy like him. He’d never survive a trip to the center of all that chaos. He stood at the edge of the crevice, watching shapes move in the distance. He couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy. Whoever managed to come out on top would gain unimaginable power. Still, Qin Ming decided not to be foolish. A quiet corner was safer.
From far off, he could hear the voices of strangers, some shouting that the ten-colored spot was a once-in-a-lifetime miracle. Rumors spread fast: two hundred years ago, some sort of divine light had landed here, then again just two years back. Now, the mingling of these ancient forces had given rise to this incredible sight. But no matter how grand these secrets were, Qin Ming knew this didn’t concern him. He had to think small if he wanted to get out alive.
As people whispered and shouted, confusion spread. The beams of light—both the spectacular ten-colored ones and the smaller five-colored ones—began to shift as if alive, twisting and coiling, pulling closer together. Some onlookers gawked. Others muttered about monsters underground, or spiritual veins shifting. Could the treasures be merging into one? No one knew. Even the greatest warriors, men and women cloaked in flame or mist, looked baffled.
Qin Ming observed all this from a safe distance. He felt lucky no one else was around him. The ground beneath his feet rumbled again, and he glanced down, heart skipping a beat. Something was happening inside his little crevice—the one he’d left just moments ago. Silver threads of light were seeping upward, touched by a faint gold gleam and a whisper of purple mist. He saw a flicker of red, too. It was like a secret show of lights, hidden away under the earth’s skin.
“Could there be something good down there?” Qin Ming wondered aloud, voice cracking slightly with excitement. He sounded like any teenage boy might when sniffing out a secret prize. “No way I’m missing that,” he said to himself, half in disbelief. Without hesitation, he ducked back into the crack, hoping nobody else had noticed his disappearance. If he couldn’t grab the great treasures, maybe he could get something smaller. He’d take any bit of fortune he could find.
Inside, the silver light was stronger now. As he ventured deeper, he felt a gentle warmth washing over him, almost like soaking in a hot bath on a cold night. It reminded him of the strange Awakening technique he’d practiced from the old Silk Book. He breathed steadily, letting the warmth sink into his bones. Soon enough, he reached the end of the crevice, only to find a heap of stones blocking his way.
“Figures,” he muttered, eyeing the rocks. But Qin Ming wasn’t the type to give up easily. He shifted stone after stone until he spotted a new crack leading even deeper underground. With his long-handled black metal hammer, he chipped and smashed at the walls until he’d made enough room to crawl through.
There, at last, he found something extraordinary: a small chamber filled with a swirling, colorful mist. At its center lay a black stone, about half the size of a human head. Qin Ming’s heart skipped a beat. He could feel a faint energy coming from it, something that made him tingle from head to toe.
“Is this… a treasure?” he whispered, voice shaking with excitement. It didn’t look much at first glance, just a hunk of dark rock. But the swirling mist around it made his skin prickle. He waited, pressing himself against the rough chamber wall. Gradually, the mist began to fade, as if its job were done.
When the mist vanished completely, the stone looked dull and ordinary. Toss it out on a roadside, and no one would give it a second glance. But Qin Ming trusted his strange new senses, honed by the silver lights and that old Silk Book. He could still feel energy humming inside that stone, as faint as a whisper.
“I bet I can sense treasures touched by heavenly light now,” he thought proudly. He grabbed hold of the black stone. It was heavier than he’d imagined. Part of him wanted to crack it open right there to see what it hid. But this was no place to linger. If anyone blocked the crevice while he was still inside, he’d be done for.
Quietly, carefully, he crept out of the underground passage and back to the open air. The distant mountains still flared with impossible color. Warriors, beasts, and creatures beyond human understanding clashed among snow and stone. Qin Ming slipped into a hollow in the snow, finding a safe little hideout under a thick grove of trees. Once settled, he held the strange black stone in his hands, heart pounding.
“Okay, let’s see what you are,” he said, taking a deep breath. He began his Awakening technique again, feeling his skin ripple with a faint golden sheen. The stone was tough, but Qin Ming was tougher. He chipped away at it bit by bit, breaking off small flakes. With each layer he removed, the stone seemed to grow more… alive.
As it shrank under his patient effort, the hidden energy inside it became clearer. His hands shook slightly. Could it be something priceless? Some hidden jewel or seed of power? He hesitated. What if fully breaking it apart triggered something dangerous? He could barely contain his curiosity. If it held a treasure, he desperately wanted it. Yet worry tugged at him. He was, after all, just a teenager caught up in forces far older and mightier than himself.
Still, the urge to open it, to see what lay inside, was almost maddening. He stared down at the half-broken stone, torn between excitement and caution.
“Come on,” he whispered, voice hushed, “just a little more…” He knew he should be careful. But right now, caught in this strange night that felt so much like day, with treasures and chaos all around, Qin Ming could hardly help himself. He was going to find out what hid within that black stone, no matter the risk.