Remnant Talisman

As dawn approached, Li Yuan returned to Class A Courtyard Number One. Mud spatters and dried blood clung to him, and beneath his tattered clothes, his skin glimmered a faint, dark red. He drew Well Water and poured it over himself from head to toe. The icy stream washed over his body, carrying away his lingering fatigue and that faint, almost imperceptible chill, leaving only the warmth of his brimming qi and blood.

After changing into a clean set of coarse-cloth clothes, he sat on a stone stool in the courtyard and took out the grayish-white Bone Whistle, along with what he had found in the robes of the cultist who had presided over the ritual: a neatly folded sheet of peculiar material, like a thin piece of tanned hide, and several pitch-black fragments of unknown material.

He picked up the Bone Whistle first. It felt cold in his hand, but no longer with the soul-corroding chill it had once carried. Now it was more like the ordinary coolness of bone. The markings on it were blurred, and the cloudy bead at its tip had gone dull. Cracks webbed its interior, and it crumbled to powder at the slightest squeeze. The thing was useless now.

He casually tossed the Bone Whistle aside and turned his gaze to the fragments. They looked like some kind of mineral, yet had a hint of wood grain. They were deep black and rough on the surface. He picked one up; it was heavy in his hand. He tried to scrape it with a fingernail, but it didn't budge. He sent a thread of Crimson Sun Qi and Blood into it, but his energy struck a wall as impenetrable as a sealed fortress, blocked completely from entering. There was no reaction at all. He couldn't devour it, nor could he sense any energy.

"Strange..." he murmured, pushing the fragments aside. He couldn't tell what they were for yet.

At last, he picked up the thin hide. It felt slick and tough to the touch, and carried a stale, rank odor. He carefully unfolded it.

The hide was small. A highly complex sigil had been drawn on it in some sort of dark-brown pigment. It was more intricate than any symbol he had seen before, twisted, with lines tangled and coiled together. The longer he looked, the more dizzy and unsettled he felt. At the center of the sigil was another abstract eye, but it was even more sinister than the one in the forest, as though it were staring at him through the hide.

The instant he stared at the sigil, the Crimson Sun deep in his qi sea gave a sharp throb. It sent him a clear sense of revulsion, along with a trace of... an extremely faint restlessness, much like what he had felt when devouring the source of the curse power.

Li Yuan's heart stirred. The hide itself held no energy, but there was something strange about the sigil...

He tried to separate out a strand of Crimson Sun Qi and Blood finer than a hair and slowly bring it toward the hide. He wasn't going to touch the hide itself, only cautiously probe the sigil.

The instant his energy touched the sigil—

"Buzz!"

It felt as if a needle had pricked his brain. A chaotic, frenzied will surged along that strand of energy and slammed into his consciousness! Twisted phantoms seemed to appear before his eyes, while countless mad whispers rang in his ears!

Li Yuan grunted and immediately cut off the strand of energy. He snapped the hide shut and flung it onto the stone table. Cold sweat beaded at his temples, and his breathing quickened.

What a sinister thing! Simply looking at it was enough to throw his mind into turmoil!

He stared at the folded hide, uncertainty and suspicion in his eyes. This thing was far more than just a "mark." The "Sacred Sacrifice" and "location" the cultist had mentioned before dying... and the sinister will held in the hide...

A vague theory gradually took shape in his mind.

The Netherworld Cult's activities in Black Mountain Forest were probably more than just the wanton mischief of a handful of scattered believers. They seemed to be plotting something. The sigil on the hide might be some sort of higher-grade token, or... a key component in a ritual?

He thought back to how it had felt to devour that wisp of curse power, to his hazy "understanding" of frigid forces. If... if he could "eat" several different kinds of curse power, would he be able to grasp their patterns more clearly, and even... uncover the secrets of these sigils?

The thought made his blood stir. Risk and opportunity went hand in hand. Devouring curse power was like walking a tightrope; one misstep and he would be doomed beyond redemption. But if he succeeded, the Crimson Sun would grow in ways beyond imagination, and his means of opposing the Netherworld Cult would grow all the stronger.

He picked up the hide again. This time, he didn't unfold it. He only rubbed his fingers over its slick surface, feeling the faint, unpleasant aura seeping from within.

This thing was trouble, but it was also a clue.

He carefully stowed the hide, the fragments, and the ruined Bone Whistle, hiding them in a secret crevice beneath the bed planks.

By the time he finished, the sky outside had begun to grow faintly bright. He stood and walked into the courtyard, facing the first light of dawn as he slowly loosened his limbs.

The trace of icy properties gained from devouring the curse power flickered within the flow of his Crimson Sun Qi and Blood. It hadn't weakened their scorching heat; instead, it had given them a more solid, penetrating force. He casually threw a punch at the air, and even the gust of his fist seemed to carry a subtle chill.

He clenched his fist, feeling the more complex, more powerful force within him.

The Netherworld Cult's shadow had already fallen over him. There was no escaping it.

If he couldn't escape, then he would devour them... along with their dark, unspeakable schemes!

He watched as the eastern horizon gradually reddened, his gaze cold and unwavering.

He would uncover the secret of this Remnant Talisman. And before long, Black Mountain Forest would see a true hunt. Only this time, the roles of hunter and prey would be reversed.