I gain ten years' worth of cultivation every day, and even geniuses will only see my doorstep!

On the first day, Yuan didn't eat. On the second day, he didn't eat. On the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth days, he didn't eat either. Lin Qing'er left the food there each day and took it away the same way the next day. When the porridge got cold or the pickled vegetables dried out, she threw them away and replaced them with fresh ones.

On the seventh day, Lin Qing'er put down her food, turned around, and took a few steps. She heard the clinking of dishes behind her. She turned back to see Yuan holding a bowl, drinking porridge. His hands were trembling, and some porridge spilled onto his clothes. He didn't wipe it.

Lin Qing'er walked back and squatted outside the light barrier. "What's your name?"

Yuan put down the bowl, the bottom of which hit the stone cell floor with a dull thud. "Yuan."

Do you know why you're still alive?

Yuan shook his head.

Lin Qing'er said, "Because he thinks you can become better."

Yuan lowered his head, looking at the remaining porridge in the bowl. It was white rice porridge with red dates, cooked by Lin Qing'er that morning. He ran his fingers over the rim of the bowl; the rim was rough porcelain, and felt dry to the touch.

Qin Yuan emerged from behind the old plum tree and sat on a blue stone. His sword was stuck beside the roots of the old plum tree, its blade free of dust.

"I want to know about the Primordial Chaos. Why did it create you? How much of its power remains outside? What is the Void Sea?"

Yuan remained silent for a long time. So long that Lin Qing'er thought he had fallen asleep. Then he spoke.

"The Ancestor of Chaos had a dream while he slept. In the dream, all living beings in the myriad realms slaughtered each other, rivers of blood flowing. When he awoke, he found a black mass on his chest." Yuan pressed his hand to his chest. "That wasn't a dream. It was his malice materializing."

"It can't kill me. I'm a part of it. Killing me is like killing itself. It just throws me into the abyss of chaos." The abyss's voice grew softer and softer. "It said, 'Go where no one can see you.'"

Qin Yuan remained silent for a long time. Lin Qing'er stood behind him, her hand on his shoulder. Her fingers were still wrapped in bandages, which had turned yellow.

Yuan lowered his head, looking at his hands. They were grayish-white, no longer cracked, but also devoid of color. He clenched his fist, then released it. He couldn't clench it tightly; his fingers were too thin, the knuckles protruding like withered twigs.

The petals of the old plum tree fell, landing on the smooth walls of the stone cell, sliding down to the ground. The petals were pink, the ground was black, and the stream flowed.

Qin Yuan stood up and walked to the wall of light. He didn't speak, he just stood there.

Yuan raised his head, his gray eyes looking at him.

"I'm not here to lock you up," Qin Yuan said. "I'm here to show you. Look at this tree, this stream, this person. They're all here. You didn't destroy everything."

Qin Yuan turned and left. Lin Qing'er followed behind him, taking a few steps before glancing back. Yuan was still sitting in the stone cell, holding an empty bowl. He held the empty bowl, it was unclear whether he wanted it refilled. Lin Qing'er didn't go back. She'd think about it tomorrow.

When the fissures in the depths of the chaotic abyss opened, there was no sound. Not silence, but the sound was swallowed up by the black liquid. The liquid gushed from the fissures, viscous like asphalt, but flowing swiftly, like countless black snakes emerging from the earth. It covered the stones of the ruins, the dried-up riverbeds, and the fences of the ancient villages.

The village was inhabited by old people, women, and children. They saw the black liquid; someone screamed, but the scream was swallowed up as soon as it left their mouth. The liquid overflowed the threshold, the stove, and the foot of the bed. An old man reached out to pull his grandson beside him, but as soon as his hand was outstretched, the liquid enveloped his arm. His arm disappeared in the liquid—not rotting, not burning, but as if it had never existed.

A few breaths later, the liquid receded. The village was deserted; there were no corpses, no bloodstains, only grayish-white ruins. The walls remained, but their color had turned grayish-white, as if bleached. The stove was still there, with unburnt firewood in the firebox, also grayish-white, crumbling at the slightest touch.

Liquid condensed on the ruins. It converged from all directions, like the receding tide flowing backward, rising higher and higher, denser and denser, until it finally solidified into a human shape. Tall, thin, with broad shoulders, but as thin as a sheet of paper. The skin was grayish-white, like a lime wall left to stand for too long. The eye sockets were empty, only blackness remained, a bottomless blackness.

Yuan looked down at his hands. His fingers were long, and his nails were black. He clenched his fist, released it, and then clenched it again. Power flowed between his fingers—not from cultivation, but from the lives of those villagers.

His aura rose from nothing, from weak to strong, soaring straight to the third level of the Myriad Paths Returning to the Origin Realm. He raised his head, his dark-rimmed eyes gazing into the distance. There was more there.

When the rescue team's scouts arrived, the ruins were still smoking. It wasn't fire, but rather grayish-white powder floating in the air. The scout crouched down and poked the ground with his finger. The ground crumbled like a biscuit, and his finger slipped in without resistance. He stood up, turned, and ran.

Li Qing was writing in the ledger. The pen stopped at the last stroke of the character "支" (zhi), and the ink smeared into a black blot. A scout rushed in, covered in dust.

"In the northwest of Chennijie, there was an ancient village. It's all gone. The people are gone, the houses are gone, even the stones are shattered."

Muddy sat on the doorstep, holding a taro in his hand. The taro was raw; he didn't eat it, just held it. "How many people?"

"More than three hundred people."

Li Qing's pen fell onto the ledger, but she didn't pick it up. She stood up and picked up the hammer from the wall.

"I'm going to find Qin Yuan."

Qin Yuan sat under the old plum tree, his eyes closed. The plum blossoms had already faded, the leaves were green, and the branches swayed gently in the wind. Lin Qing'er came out of the house, carrying a clean blue dress. She folded the dress and placed it on the bluestone. Qin Yuan didn't open his eyes, but he knew she was standing there.

"Change your clothes before you leave," Lin Qing'er said.

Qin Yuan opened his eyes. He saw Li Qing. Li Qing stood by the stream, not crossing it. The stream flowed at her feet, its sound unchanged.

"Something's happened in the Chaos Abyss. Something is killing people. It slaughtered an entire village."

Qin Yuan stood up, went into the house, and took down the black longsword that had been hanging on the wall for a long time. There was a thin layer of dust on the scabbard, but Lin Qing'er had already wiped it clean. He changed into a blue robe, hung the sword at his waist, and went out of the house. Lin Qing'er stood under the old plum tree, not saying "Be careful" or "Come back soon," but simply watching his retreating figure.

he's gone.

The ruins of the Chaos Abyss still remain. Grayish-white powder rises from the ground, floating in the air like winter snow, but without cold. Qin Yuan crouches down and picks up a piece of gravel. The stone shatters at his fingertips, not from being squeezed, but from its inherent nature. Its internal structure has been completely destroyed by the black liquid, leaving it utterly devoid of resilience.

He stood up and dispersed his divine sense. Chaotic energy surged within his divine sense, like a thick fog. Deep within the fog, there was an even denser darkness. It wasn't that there was no light, but rather that the light was swallowed up there.