Lin Feng stared at the three spirit stones in his palm. The stones were a murky, dark yellow, like solidified mud. The smell of rust and rotting herbs clung to his nostrils. Shen Lian lay on his side on the wooden plank bed in the corner, his wooden leg propped straight up, his breathing light and rapid, like a broken bellows. He hadn't opened his eyes since coughing up bloody froth mixed with black residue last night.
His right thumb rubbed the old scar on the web of his left hand. Once, then again. Three spirit stones. The "Reconnecting Ointment" cost twenty. The goatee-bearded shopkeeper at Jisheng Hall at the east end of the market said this medicine could reconnect the meridians in Shen Lian's severed leg, burned by fire poison, and keep him alive. Ten stones as a deposit.
Seven stones short. Seventeen stones short.
Outside the window was the usual gray of Shen Gu. No clouds, just a low, leaden expanse. From the distant mine came the shouts of the foreman and the muffled clang of metal clashing.
Lin Feng stood up, walked to the bedside, and knelt down, feeling Shen Lian's forehead. It was burning hot. He used a wooden spoon to moisten the old man's chapped lips. Shen Lian made a muffled gurgling sound in his throat; he didn't wake up.
He remembered six years ago, after the flash flood, it was Shen Lian who dragged him back from a corner of the market and threw him a small hammer. "Straighten it out, and you'll have food tonight." He hammered all afternoon, his hands covered in blisters. That night, Shen Lian threw him half a hard, rock-hard flatbread. Later he learned that it was Shen Lian's own ration.
It wasn't kindness. It was a transaction. Shen Lian needed help; he needed to survive. Fair.
Until three days ago, a muffled thud came from the blacksmith's shed. When he rushed in, Shen Lian lay beside the extinguished furnace, his right leg below the knee charred black, his wooden prosthetic leg broken in two, his face and body splattered with dark red molten metal. Scattered on the ground were warped fragments of ore, a few gleaming with an unnatural, eerie blue light. Shen Lian gripped a molten pair of tongs tightly, his teeth grinding together, managing only to utter, "...The material is wrong."
Then came the high fever, coughing up blood, and unconsciousness. The rogue cultivators in the workshop who knew a little medicine all shook their heads. Only one mentioned "Mending Ointment" and quoted the price: twenty coins. In Shen Gu, a miner might work himself to the bone for a month and earn two or three coins, considered lucky. Twenty coins was a fortune many couldn't accumulate in a lifetime.
Lin Feng walked to the rickety wooden table and pulled open the bottom drawer. Inside was only a small cloth bag. He untied the hemp rope; inside were three low-grade spirit stones, a few smaller fragments, a piece of dried grass root, and a broken jade piece about half the size of a palm. The jade was murky, grayish, with several cracks on its surface, like a stubborn rock picked up from a riverbank. The only thing his mother had left him. Shen Lian had casually tossed it to him years ago: "Your mother's stuff, keep it." He'd always carried it with him.
He picked up the ancient jade, his fingertips brushing against its rough edges. Cold. Nothing special. He put it back, wrapped it up, and shoved it deep into the drawer. Then he clenched the three spirit stones, their sharp edges digging painfully into his palm. He turned and pushed open the door.
Outside was a muddy path. Sewage flowed freely, the air thick with the stench of decay. Low shacks huddled together, ashen-faced figures moving between the gaps. No one gave anyone a second glance. Lin Feng walked towards the more "lively" part of the market. His steps were steady. He had to find Scarface Liu.
Scarface Liu was one of the "mission brokers" in Chen Valley, leading a group of desperate outlaws who dared to risk their lives but were desperate for spirit stones. They specialized in taking on the dirty work that legitimate mines wouldn't touch. The pay was high, but the risks were high too. Last year, Lin Feng had explored a mountain ravine with putrid miasma with a team and earned two spirit stones. That job was arranged by Scarface Liu.
The hideout was a large, semi-underground shack, guarded by two fierce-looking men at the entrance. Inside, smoke filled the air, a mingled stench of sweat, smoke, and blood. A few people sat scattered around several broken tables, mostly silent. Scarface Liu leaned back behind a large wooden table opposite the door, filing his nails. The scar on his face, running diagonally from his right temple to his left jaw, distorted his features no matter what expression he wore.
Lin Feng walked to the table.
Scarface Liu didn't even lift his eyelids: "What is it?"
"Old Mine No. 3," Lin Feng said calmly, "Looking for companion iron jade. Still need men?" The file stopped. Scarface Liu raised his eyelids, sizing him up. "You?" A smirk appeared on his lips. "Kid, are you all grown up yet? That cave's cursed; seven or eight people's been lost there. The most recent one went in three days ago, and there's still no sign of him. Same rules as always: find a piece of iron jade the size of a fingernail, ten spirit stones. If you don't find it, or you die in there, you get nothing. Want to go?"
"Go."
"Tsk." Scarface Liu tossed a file onto the table. "You've got guts. One spirit stone as a deposit. Rules." Lin Feng pulled out a low-grade spirit stone and placed it on the table. Scarface Liu picked it up with two fingers, ran his thumb along the edge, squinted at its quality, and tossed it into an open bag under the table.
"Tomorrow at dawn, meet at the east entrance of the mine. Bring your own food, torches, and sturdy gear. Let me make this clear: once you're inside, life or death is up to fate." Scarface Liu waved his hand. "Don't expect anyone to save you."
Lin Feng turned and left. Stepping out of the shack, the dim, gray light was blinding. He walked back the way he came, turning a page in his mental ledger: one yuan deposit paid, two yuan left. Mission successful, ten yuan earned, plus two yuan left, twelve yuan in total. Enough to pay the deposit, with two yuan still left. The prerequisite was success and returning alive. Failure or death, one yuan deposit lost, two yuan left, Shen Lian…
He stopped, standing in the middle of the filthy path. From the nearby shack came a woman's suppressed cough and a baby's weak cry. He stood for a while, his right thumb rubbing the old scar on his hand again. Then he continued walking, not towards home, but towards another corner of the market, where stalls selling scrap and medicinal dregs were gathered.
Lin Feng stopped in front of a stall piled high with dried medicinal dregs, emitting a bitter, rancid smell. The stall owner, hunched over, with sparse gray hair, was using a wooden stick to poke at the dark pile of medicinal dregs in front of him. Hearing footsteps, he timidly raised his eyelids, his cloudy eyes quickly scanning him before lowering again, muttering indistinctly, "Just browsing... cheap..."
"Chen San." The old man shrank his shoulders, looked up to recognize him, and forced a humble yet wary smile: "It's...it's Brother Lin. What...what do you need?"
"Golden and earthy waste slag or medicinal residue, the cheapest. How much do you have? Take some."
"Yes, yes..." Chen San hurriedly rummaged through a pile of junk, finding several hard, dark brown lumps mixed with dark gold and yellowish-brown spots, and a small packet of dried, muddy substance with a slightly fishy, earthy smell, which he handed over on a dirty rag. "These...are they okay? Just one and a half spirit stones will do!"
Lin Feng took out two rice-grain-sized spirit stone fragments and placed them on Chen San's outstretched palm, blackened by the grime under his fingernails. Chen San's hand trembled slightly, quickly clenching it and stuffing it into his pocket, pushing the junk back, muttering, "Please keep this...I'll come again next time..."
Lin Feng picked up the items, got up, and left. He could feel the mixed gaze of gratitude and calculation behind him. In the Deep Valley, every fragment of spirit stone could precisely measure hope and despair.
Back in the dilapidated hut, darkness fell. The Deep Valley had no true night, only a deeper gray. Lin Feng prepared by the faint light. He found the short, thick, fine steel crowbar Shen Lian used for blacksmithing, and sharpened its tip with a whetstone. Several sturdy hemp ropes, a small packet of tinder, and two hard grain cakes wrapped in oiled paper. After hesitating for a moment, he went to the drawer, took out a small cloth bag, retrieved a broken ancient jade, threaded it with a thin rope, and hung it close to his body around his neck. The cool jade against his chest felt nothing, just a habit.
He walked to Shen Lian's bedside and stood quietly for a moment. The old man's breathing seemed weaker, his cheeks flushed an unnatural red. Lin Feng poured the last bit of water from the water vat into a ceramic bowl and placed it beside the bed. He blew out the cheap oil lamp emitting black smoke on the table.
The hut was plunged into darkness. A few scattered lights pierced the cracks in the distance, casting flickering, distorted patches of light on the ground. Lin Feng leaned against the cold earthen wall, his eyes closed. He hadn't slept, his mind replaying fragmented information about the No. 3 old mine: located on the northeastern edge of the sinking valley, abandoned for many years, with a small amount of associated iron jade mined in its early years, the vein quickly depleted, its deep sections having complex structures, frequent collapses, and the release of strange poisonous gases. In the last two years, there had been occasional reports of discovering new iron jade deep within, but few who went in had returned.
The risk was extremely high. The returns were uncertain. But he had no choice. Shen Lian couldn't afford to wait. The calculations were clear: the probability of success was perhaps less than 20%, but if he didn't go, Shen Lian would most likely not survive ten days. If he went, there was a 20% chance of obtaining ten spirit stones, which could be exchanged for the "Rejuvenating Ointment." 20%, very low, but not zero. That was enough.
He opened his eyes, his right thumb once again covering the old scar on his tiger's mouth in the darkness. Cold and rough. Then he stopped moving, quietly waiting for dawn.
The daylight remained hazy. Lin Feng shouldered his belongings, took one last look at the unconscious Shen Lian on the bed, and pushed open the door to enter the perpetually pervasive, rusty, and decaying mist of the sinking valley.
The eastern entrance of the No. 3 old mine was more dilapidated than he had imagined. The entrance resembled the gaping maw of a wild beast, its edges dark and covered in slippery, dark moss. Several rotten logs leaned precariously. Five people were gathered in the open space in front of the entrance. Including Lin Feng, there were six in total.
Scarface Liu wasn't there; he sent a one-eyed henchman to stand aside with his arms crossed, coldly observing. Of the other five, three were fierce-looking, dark-skinned middle-aged men, exuding a menacing aura, and they didn't speak to each other. One was a tall, thin man with shifty eyes and a bulging waist. The last one was an old man with gray hair and a slightly hunched back, wearing a faded old Taoist robe, leaning on an old rattan cane, squinting at the dark entrance, muttering something.
The one-eyed man cleared his throat once everyone was gathered. "Let me repeat the rules. Go into the cave to find the Iron Jade. If you find it, come out and collect your spirit stones. If you don't find it or die in there, consider yourself unlucky. There might be things left behind by previous inhabitants in the cave; whoever finds them keeps them. But if you fight amongst yourselves over the things and delay the search for the Iron Jade, or cause too much of a disturbance..." A cold glint flashed in his one eye. "You know Scarface's temper."
No one answered. The atmosphere was heavy and tense.
"Alright, go in," the one-eyed man waved his hand. "The deepest point is at the 'Old Crow's Pass' marker. More than one team has died going any deeper; don't be courting death. Before noon, whether you find it or not, try to get out." Three middle-aged men exchanged glances and led the way, lighting torches and filing in. The tall, thin man with a tight belt followed. Lin Feng silently lit his torch and followed. Finally, there was the old man with the cane, walking slowly but steadily. Before disappearing into the darkness, he glanced back at the gray sky outside, muttering something indistinctly.
The firelight illuminated only a few feet ahead. The air inside the cave was cold and damp, heavy with the earthy smell and a faint, sweet, cloying odor reminiscent of decay. Underfoot was uneven gravel and thick silt, crunching underfoot, sometimes causing one to suddenly sink in. The cave walls were wet, reflecting the firelight and revealing rough carving marks and some ancient symbols, long since faded and illegible.
Initially, the path was relatively wide, but as they went deeper, side paths began to appear. The three men leading the way, more experienced, chose a relatively dry side path with more artificial traces. The flickering firelight cast their shadows long, distorted, and ghostly on the jagged cave walls.
Aside from footsteps, breathing, and the crackling of the torches, the cave was deathly silent. The deathly silence was unsettling, as if something lurked silently in the darkness, watching them intently.
After walking for about half an hour, a relatively open cave appeared ahead. Many wet stalactites hung from the cave ceiling, water droplets falling into small puddles on the ground with a monotonous "drip-drip" sound. Scattered in one corner were the remains of some rotten wooden tools, and several curled-up, already skeletal remains. Beside the remains lay several rusted, badly damaged mining picks.
Everyone stopped, the firelight focusing on the remains. The atmosphere grew even heavier.
"Bad luck," a middle-aged man spat.
The tall, thin man's eyes lit up. He took a few steps closer, carefully poking at the rubble beside the remains with his toes, trying to find any valuables.
Lin Feng's gaze swept over the remains without lingering. His attention was more focused on the surrounding rock walls of the cave. Shen Lian had taught him that associated iron jade often appears in specific rock strata fissures or inclusions, its color dark and its texture cold and heavy to the touch. He held up his torch to carefully examine the texture and color of the rock wall.
The old man with the rattan cane slowly walked to a corpse, squatted down, and gently brushed away the grime clinging to the corpse's arm bone with his withered fingers. He examined it carefully, even sniffing it closely, then shook his head, stood up, and continued to squint at the cave's surroundings, muttering to himself.
"Stop dawdling!" the leader growled impatiently, "Keep searching! We can't stay in this hellhole for long!"
The group continued forward. Beyond this cave, the passage narrowed and twisted, sloping noticeably downwards. The air was colder, and the sweet, rotten smell seemed to intensify. The torchlight appeared even weaker here, as if swallowed by the thick darkness.
After another sharp turn, a sudden crashing sound came from ahead, followed by a short, angry scream from the tall, thin man. The firelight flickered as the tall, thin man slipped and sank into a shallow pit covered by loose soil. Besides rubble, the pit contained some white, gritty things—more bone fragments.
"Damn it! What the hell is this place!" the tall, thin man cursed as he scrambled out.
The leader's face was grim: "Be careful! This cave is ancient..."
Before he finished speaking, something abruptly changed!
Without warning, a grating creaking sound came from the cave ceiling, followed by a shower of loose soil and rocks.
"Oh no! It's collapsing!" one of the men cried out.
Boom!
It wasn't a large-scale collapse, but a small section of the cave ceiling, unable to withstand the erosion of time and the vibrations from the group's footsteps, suddenly crumbled and fell! Stones of varying sizes mixed with dirt rained down!
"Run!" Screams, curses, and the muffled thuds of rocks hitting the ground instantly mingled together! A few flames flickered and died out abruptly amidst the violent shaking, and darkness surged in from all directions like a tidal wave!
Lin Feng reacted instantly to the sound—not running forward or backward, but lunging towards a crevice in the rock wall beside him! This was an instinct honed through years of living in dangerous environments: seeking the most stable point that could provide shelter.
His judgment was correct. The collapse was mainly concentrated in the passageway ahead and the central area. Amidst the deafening roar and dust, he heard screams of agony and the dull thuds of rocks hitting flesh. Even though he had taken cover in the crevice, several flying fragments still struck his back and legs, sending sharp pains through him and a metallic taste rising in his throat.
The chaos lasted only a dozen breaths. The dust slowly settled, leaving only the sound of scattered rubble and… suppressed groans of pain.
Lin Feng struggled out of the crevice in the rock wall, shaking off the dust. His mouth was full of the taste of sand, his back burned with pain, and his left leg seemed to be injured as well, the slightest movement causing excruciating pain. He groped for the torch lying on the ground; luckily, it was only covered by dust, and after blowing on it a few times, it faintly lit up again.
In the dim light, the scene before him made his pupils shrink.
The path he had come from was mostly blocked by a large pile of collapsed rocks and mud, leaving only narrow gaps, the passage uncertain. The path ahead was completely buried. Two people lay on the ground: one was a tall, thin man, half his body pinned under a table-sized rock, already lifeless, his eyes wide with terror. The other was one of three middle-aged men, clutching a twisted, deformed leg, emitting low moans of pain.
The other two middle-aged men had narrowly escaped the main rockfall area, only covered in dust and suffering minor injuries, still shaken as they brushed the dust off themselves. The old man with the cane… was nowhere to be seen. Lin Feng raised the torch and shone it around, but saw nothing. They were either buried under the landslide or, in the chaos, stumbled into another side passage.
"Cough cough... Damn it..." The man clutching his leg winced, veins bulging on his forehead. "My leg... is broken..."
"Stop howling!" another man growled irritably, trying to push the pile of rubble blocking the way, but it wouldn't budge. His face grew even uglier. "The way is blocked! The path ahead is blocked too! We're trapped!" Lin Feng, enduring the pain, walked to the landslide and examined it carefully. The pile of rubble and soil blocking the path was thick and loosely structured; digging rashly could easily trigger a secondary collapse. He looked back at the man with the broken leg and the dead, tall, thin man, then at his two other anxious companions, his mental calculations racing again.
Food: He had two pieces of dry rations; the others probably had some too, but not much. Water: None. Wounded: A severely wounded man with a broken leg; he would consume resources, slow them down, and could even cause further trouble. Exit: Unknown. Time: Uncertain inside the cave, but oxygen was definitely slowly consuming.
The two able-bodied men were clearly undergoing a similar assessment. Their gazes lingered on their companion with the missing leg, their eyes flashing with struggle and coldness.
Weighing the options.
The man with the broken leg seemed to sense something; his groans subsided into fearful gasps: "You...you...you can't leave me...Scarface...Scarface knows..."
"Scarface?" one of the men sneered. "Scarface's men are outside. Whether we can get out is another matter."
The atmosphere plummeted to freezing. Despair and suspicion, like poisonous vines, festered wildly in the narrow, dimly lit space filled with the aura of death.
Lin Feng didn't engage in their exchange of glances. He silently walked to the rock wall and sat down to conserve his energy. Waves of pain surged in his back and legs, but he was more concerned about his chest—there, the broken ancient jade hanging against his skin, was now emitting a faint...warmth?
He paused, thinking it was a hallucination caused by his injuries. But then, the warmth became clearer, and...it grew hotter and hotter! It felt like a piece of red-hot coal was being branded tightly onto his chest!
What was happening?
He instinctively reached out to pull the ancient jade out to examine it, but the moment his fingers touched his chest, he froze!
It wasn't an illusion! The ancient jade was not only burning hot, but it seemed to have come alive, trembling slightly! At the same time, he felt the blood seeping from the wounds on his back and legs, caused by the falling rubble, being drawn slowly, thread by thread, towards the jade on his chest! And within the ever-present cold, damp aura of the surrounding air, a faint yet inexplicably chilling energy seemed to separate, flowing like an invisible trickle towards him—or rather, towards the ancient jade on his chest!
Blood, the chilling aura of the earth's veins, and the ancient jade's eerie trembling and intense heat… the combined sensations made his scalp tingle, yet he was paralyzed.
The heat in his chest suddenly surged! It felt as if a fire had exploded beneath his skin!
"Ugh—!" Lin Feng couldn't help but let out a suppressed groan, his body convulsing violently, drawing the attention of the two men who were silently confronting each other.
But Lin Feng had no time to worry about anything else. The terrifying heat, after reaching its peak, didn't incinerate him; instead, it suddenly contracted, transforming into a fierce, sharp, yet strangely vibrant stream of heat that slammed into his chest, rushing along some unseen path to his limbs and bones!
His vision was instantly filled with a blinding white light! No, not light, but an indescribable sense of "inner vision"! In that instant, he seemed to "see" inside his own body— Several faint, thin, barely visible veins, like a dried-up, cracked riverbed, were distributed across the blurred outlines of his torso and limbs. Four of them were slightly clearer, each gleaming with an extremely faint metallic sheen, a withered wood-like grayish-brown, a stagnant earthy yellow, and an almost dried-up dark blue-water color, respectively. There was another, almost invisible, faint warm red mark near his heart. At this moment, the raging heat, like a flood bursting its banks, violently washed over these dim, delicate "riverbeds," bringing a tearing, throbbing pain wherever it passed, yet also seemingly causing those dried-up "riverbeds" to tremble slightly, revealing a faint, almost imperceptible...activity?
The process was both brief and long. When the terrifying heat finally dissipated and slowly subsided, Lin Feng, as if just pulled from the water, slumped against the rock wall, soaked in cold sweat, gasping for breath, each breath exacerbating the pain throughout his body.
The white light and his inner vision disappeared. Before him remained the dim cave, the flickering firelight, the two men's bewildered faces, and the suppressed groans of his companion with the broken leg.
But everything was different.
The ancient jade on his chest was no longer hot; it had returned to its icy coolness, even colder than before, clinging tightly to his skin. Inside his body, after the excruciating pain, a strange, hollow "perception" lingered. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and could vaguely "sense" the faint existence of those few dim veins, especially the two with their dull metallic sheen and earthy yellow hue—they seemed... slightly more "prominent" than the others?
What was this?
A predestined connection? The legendary sign of drawing qi into the body and opening the meridians? But Shen Lian had said that it was the first step that those with spiritual roots could take after long-term sensing and accumulation under the guidance of specific techniques. He had never tested his spiritual roots, nor practiced any techniques; he was just a mortal boy struggling to survive at the very bottom of the Deep Valley.
Why now? In this desperate situation? Because of this broken ancient jade left by his mother, which had never shown any abnormalities? Because it absorbed his blood... and the chilling aura of the cave?
Countless questions and shocks collided in his mind. But the instinct for survival immediately overwhelmed these chaotic thoughts. He abruptly opened his eyes, a faint yet striking light flickering within the usual calm depths of his gaze.
His body still ached, but after the surge of heat, even the pain in his wounds seemed clearer and more tangible. He tried to move his injured left leg; it still hurt, but the excruciating, uncontrollable sensation seemed to have lessened almost imperceptibly.
He slowly inhaled, the cold, decaying air filling his lungs. Then, using the rock wall as a support, he slowly stood up.
This action caught the attention of the other two men. They looked at Lin Feng with suspicion and uncertainty. They had both witnessed Lin Feng's groan of pain and his brief moment of unusual behavior.
"Kid, you…" one of the men couldn't help but speak.
Lin Feng didn't look at him. Instead, he once again raised his torch and walked towards the collapsed section blocking the way. This time, his gaze wasn't merely assessing the risks and structure; it seemed to penetrate the surface of the rubble, vaguely sensing the flow of earth and soil beneath, and… a weak point? It was an extremely vague intuition, originating from those faint veins within his body—recently "washed" clean, seemingly resonating with some external energy—especially the one representing "earth."
His gaze fell on a relatively loose area in the lower left corner of the landslide, supported by several large rocks.
"There," Lin Feng's voice was somewhat hoarse but unusually calm as he pointed to the corner, "Dig here. Be careful, don't touch that big one above."