He took a deep breath, massaging his forehead. The earlier headache had faded, only to be replaced by a heavier, duller one now, though not from pain, but from the grim understanding he had gleaned from Mei Xu's memories.
Her memories had forced upon him a truth he had never been permitted to notice, stripping away the lie he had lived for his eighty-two years.
His eyes drifted to the husk, to her. His gaze was calm, almost contemplative. Even as an enemy, she had earned a sliver of his respect. She had lived in this cruel world without filters or illusions, had seen it stripped bare, cruel and honest in its indifference.
Among the memory fragments he had absorbed, one realization clung stubbornly, refusing to fade no matter how he tried to ignore it: living in the village had been both a blessing and a curse.
While he was sheltered from most dangers, he was also bound, constrained, and regulated, just like every settlement surrounding the sect.
It was a controlled environment. A managed population.
He recalled the village chief's pride, the reverence in the old man's voice when he spoke of his status. He believed that if the village produced talented seedlings, the sect might reward him with longevity pills, might acknowledge them, perhaps even grant his lineage a servant's position within the sect.
Wuji let out a hollow breath. "If only he knew... that he had merely been tending a ranch."
He stood after a moment and walked to the mouth of the cave. As he stepped outside, the afternoon sun washed over him—warm and indifferent. It illuminated the lush, vibrant, and dangerous forest looming just beyond the array's periphery.
Standing there, his thoughts slipped back to the destroyed village. A trace of pity crept onto his wrinkled face. He pitied the dead village chief.
The sect had not merely controlled this one man; it had conditioned the minds of generations. Not just the chiefs, but every mortal had been taught that cultivation was the only path to power.
Because of that belief, they never questioned the world. Or perhaps they couldn't. Or never truly wanted to. Those steeped in false peace rarely feel the urge to doubt the very ground they stand on.
The sect had given the chosen figureheads breathing techniques, yes. But just enough to preserve health, never enough to build true strength. They were kept entirely hidden from the path of body forging.
Even the fragmented memories he had absorbed from the young sect disciple weeks ago held no trace of this knowledge. That alone sent a chill through him.
Perhaps only those in the upper echelons were responsible. And if they could do this, what else was hidden? What other mysteries waited to be uncovered?
The realization awakened an urge to doubt everything he had ever accepted as truth. Yet now, lingering on manipulation, lies, and control was meaningless.
Even if he had known earlier, what could he have done? A mortal fighting the heavens was nothing more than a joke to amuse fate.
He lifted his gaze to the space above the cave where the array plate lay hidden, and stood still, waiting. Based on Mei Xu's memories, he knew the array was set to run for five days.
Only about an hour remained from the allotted time. When it collapsed, the forest would reveal its true nature. Wild beasts, perhaps even spirit beasts would return to the vicinity.
If his bad luck decided to mock him, as it always had, cultivators from the sect might notice his strange presence.
He exhaled slowly. Even knowing his luck was wretched, it wasn't something that could cripple him or make him hesitate. He stood at the cave entrance, motionless.
After several minutes, the space rippled faintly. The array plate rematerialized from its hidden fold and dropped neatly into his outstretched hand, as if it had always belonged there.
As he studied it, a sense of unnatural familiarity settled into his mind. It felt like a tool he had wielded for years, not seconds.
But he did not dwell on it. He knew it was Mei Xu's fragmented memories at work.
Turning back into the cave, he stood before the husk. With a thought, he reawakened it for a single minute. The husk moved instantly, its body stiff yet precise.
"Put the array plate into the spatial pouch."
The husk complied. But before it could close the pouch, he added, "Show me what's inside."
At once, five jade vials floated out, hovering before him. Wuji opened one and was met by the dense, medicinal scent of mid-tier Grade Two pills—five in each vial.
His breath hitched. "Damn... I'm rich."
Selling even one of these at a loose cultivator gathering would net him enough resources to sustain body forging for months. Pills, herbs, maybe even an incomplete cultivation canon—as for complete ones, only sects and other powerful organizations could own them.
He ordered the husk to continue. Three swords emerged next, followed by five spears, then a full set of armor forged from a Rank Two beast and ores he couldn't name. It was strong enough to withstand a peak Foundation Pillar Establishmentcultivator's strike, but as a mortal, using it was impossible.
Any one of these items could drive desperate loose cultivators to murder. The swords, especially, made his fingers itch. With the right method, one could even be refined into a flying sword, perhaps even forced into becoming a natal weapon.
"Damn," Wuji muttered again, shaking his head. "Being an array master really is a wealth magnet."
He clutched one of the hovering swords—slender and light in his grasp. After slashing the air to test its balance, he set it aside and reached for a spear.
His right hand grasped it, but it was far too heavy for his frail frame. It slipped from his fingers and hit the stone floor with a dull, heavy clang.
He looked down at his trembling hand. "I have to begin body forging. Quickly."
With that, he turned back to the husk. Pulling items one by one was inefficient. He willed another minute of lifespan into it. "Take everything out."
The spatial pouch's mouth widened. Several streaks of light emerged from inside instantly. Within seconds, a small treasure hoard floated before him.
His eyes first landed on the spirit stones—roughly six hundred low-tier, two mid-tier. Stacks of array books. Several low-tier grade one and two talismans. Spare weapons. Silk clothes. Undergarments of unknown material. And finally, a single herb that made his pupils contract.
He knew it at once from Mei Xu's memories: the Sevenfold Chalice Orchid. Its value was immense, enough to trade for high-tier spirit stones, or to leverage favors from Golden Core refining cultivators.
For four straight minutes, Wuji studied the floating trove. Each item made his heart race. Each one justified the pain. Each one showed a future he had never dared imagine weeks ago.
The torture, the blood, the terror, it had all been worth it. In this world, danger and opportunity walked hand in hand. The dead paid the price while the living reaped the gains, if they played their cards right.
As he stood immersed in the sight of his newfound wealth, the husk's allotted lifespan ran out. Its hand halted mid-air. The floating items dropped to the stone floor in a series of dull thuds, snapping Wuji from his reverie.
He stared at the motionless husk, irritation sharpening his gaze. "One month of lifespan... for barely five minutes," he muttered.
The cost was obscene. If he had to escape this forest relying on the husk, he'd burn through years, perhaps decades, depending on the forest's vastness. And if they were attacked along the way, the price would rise even higher.
For a brief moment, unease surfaced on his face. But with effort, he forced it down and calmed himself. The forest was crawling with potential prey; wild beasts, spirit beasts. Lifespan targets were everywhere.
With the husk at a quarter of its former strength—still enough to rival an early Foundation Pillar Establishment cultivator—years were not the true concern.
The real problem was far more mundane: the coffins for burial. In this wilderness, there were no human settlements, no villages, no craftsmen, no markets. If settlements were nearby, he could purchase thousands of coffins with ease.
The value of the Sevenfold Chalice Orchid alone made him richer than some mortal kingdoms.
But wealth meant nothing without strength. And true strength meant access to qi. Without cultivation, most of what he possessed was dead weight, bait for stronger predators.
Though... bait could also hold value. Luring cultivators into an ambush might yield even greater returns, with the husk's aid. But in his mind, targeting cultivators felt like an absurd joke in his current state.
He exhaled, pushing the thought aside for now, and turned back to the husk. With a focused thought, he activated it again. Six days of stored lifespan vanished, and the corpse stirred back to motion.
"Collect everything," Wuji ordered.
The husk moved immediately, lifting the scattered treasures one by one with its qi. Thankfully, he didn't have to worry about qi, the lifespan was converted to it automatically by the coffin.
Without hesitation, Wuji willed the coffin's inner storage to manifest. The wooden interior darkened like an ocean, the wood dissolving into a black, viscous stretch.
He crouched and plunged his hand in. This time, there was no resistance. His arm passed through the black viscosity as if sinking into cold mud.
At his command, the husk placed the treasures into the liquid one after another. Each item vanished beneath the surface without a ripple.
Within moments, the cave floor was bare. Satisfied, Wuji straightened. He first raised his right leg and stepped into the coffin. His sole felt as if he stood on mud. He then put in his other foot. As he stood upright, he sank into the black liquid without resistance.
A moment later, Wuji's head emerged from the other side of the black expanse, as if breaking the surface of a still, dark ocean.
Looking around, he first saw the most eye-catching thing: gray fog drifting lazily through the dark expanse, roughly ten square meters wide, as he understood the measurement instinctively.
As the rest of his body rose from the liquid, a faint sense of dissonance struck him. He had expected his legs to emerge first. But he shook his head, dismissing the thought. The how and why didn't matter.
When his feet touched the surface below, he tapped it cautiously with his toes. The black liquid felt springy at first, then unyielding, refusing to ripple like water.
He crouched and plunged his hand into it. His fingers met no substance he could grasp. Worse, his hand felt heavy, as though the space itself resisted being disturbed.
After a few futile attempts at understanding it, he straightened and abandoned the experiment. Whatever laws governed this place clearly required strength he did not yet possess.
He turned his attention outward. All the treasures floated in the air, or what passed for air here, suspended within the gray fog. Spirit stones and ores glowed faintly, their light static and unmoving, no longer pulsing as they would in the outside world.
It was as if time itself had stopped for them, confirming his earlier suspicion: this was a separate space, one with a different flow of time. And as its owner, he alone was exempt from its effects.
Satisfied with the storage feature, he turned slowly toward the edge of the fog.
Beyond the ten-meter boundary, thick, heavy, incomprehensible darkness pressed inward. He narrowed his eyes and stared into the void, straining to see something, anything.
Almost immediately, a sharp pressure bloomed behind his eyes, followed by a dull, throbbing ache in his skull. He hesitated, but curiosity won out. He persevered.
Minutes passed.
Then, indistinct and utterly incomprehensible whispers erupted in his ears, brimming with hostile intent. He recoiled instantly, tearing his gaze away and staggering back. His breath came in ragged gasps. His chest heaved as if he had sprinted ten kilometers without rest.
Cold sweat drenched his back. He did not dare look toward the darkness again.
Moments later, as his breathing steadied, a profound sense of awe lingered in his gaze. He was beginning to understand the true nature of the coffin.
Based on his experiences, he was certain this treasure did not belong to this cultivation world. Mei Xu's memories, especially her understanding of the world, only reinforced that belief. But perhaps even she had only ever glimpsed the surface, limited by her time and strength.
Contemplating it further was akin to trying to comprehend the whole of existence. For now, he would not pry. He would simply use it.
If the coffin was sentient, time would reveal it. If not, the outcome would remain unchanged. And if it wanted something from him—though he doubted it, as he possessed nothing of value beyond his fragile life—he would discover the cost when the time came.
He exhaled slowly, pushing the thoughts away. Perhaps he worried too much. Still, in this world, there was no such thing as a free meal. Everything had a cost, and the price of a treasure like this was beyond a mortal's means or understanding.
Accepting this grim reality, he began to pace the ten-meter span. The gray fog drifted around him, languid and directionless, like mist in a place without wind.
Focusing on the fog, he thought: "Perhaps this fog belongs to a higher dimension as well, governed by laws that answer to no mortal logic"
"And perhaps," he thought quietly, "my own ignorance is my only shield for now."