Yang Lifespan

The moment the courtyard gate opened, a fierce rush of wind swept out from inside. A broom came flying through the crack first and landed beyond the threshold. Old Lady Zhao's ferocious voice followed: "Second, if you don't bring your wife back today, don't ever set foot through this gate again!"

Right after that, Zheng Que saw a hunched figure being driven out in a rather sorry state.

The figure wore a well-worn blue short jacket, head lowered, and hurried across the threshold. It was Zhao the Second.

They came face-to-face in the narrow alley. Zheng Que nodded to Zhao the Second in greeting, but Zhao the Second's gaze was unfocused, his face lost in thought. He seemed not to notice Zheng Que at all, and passed by him in a daze, his steps unsteady.

Watching his retreating back, Zheng Que shook his head slightly. He had plenty of trouble of his own at the moment. The Call-Sound Ghost was still unresolved; he had no time to concern himself with other people's affairs.

As he thought, Zheng Que quickened his pace and headed for his lodgings.

He soon opened the door, shut it behind him, and quickly scanned the room.

The place was a complete mess. Furniture and household items lay toppled across the floor, leaving barely anywhere to step. It was just as chaotic as when he had left that morning.

He kicked aside some things in his way and tidied up a little. He had no mind to clean properly, so he ate a bit of the dried food he had stored, then immediately went into the inner room and approached the bed.

As before, he first set his shoes down, one upright and the other upside down. Only then did Zheng Que sit cross-legged on the bed and begin cultivating.

As his mind sank into the circulation of the cultivation method, he once again entered that formless, primordial chaos. Cold currents filled every direction, drifting freely like dandelion seeds scattered across the sky.

Zheng Que continually drew in wisps of spiritual energy wrapped in yin energy, guiding them into his body and refining them into his Qi Sea.

Time passed slowly. He absorbed more and more spiritual and yin energy, and the chill around him grew heavier. His body temperature fell rapidly, and his complexion gradually turned deathly pale.

After cultivating like this for half an hour, Zheng Que suddenly sensed something and snapped his eyes open.

He was now seated in that Grandmaster Chair with a broken leg. Ruined walls surrounded him, sketching out the rough outline of a vast hall. Through the gaps, he could hear the sinister wind howling outside. The mottled long table before him held the ancient Life and Death Book.

Looking at the dilapidated space of the Wide Hall, Zheng Que's expression remained unchanged. He faintly understood: it seemed that once he absorbed enough yin energy, he could enter this place.

Before he had embarked on the path of cultivation, he had occasionally dreamed of this place. That was probably because he had been tainted by yin energy in the real world.

As he pondered this, clouds of black smoke immediately welled from between his brows, then swiftly sank into the Life and Death Book before him.

Zheng Que came to his senses and wasted no more time. He reached out at once, grasping for the Life and Death Book.

The instant his fingertips touched the book's cover, a vast, bone-deep chill swept over him. In a flash, death—dense as if it had taken physical form—mingled with overwhelming unknowns and terror, pouring down like the Milky Way crashing from the heavens, nearly drowning him completely!

Zheng Que's mind reeled. In some unfathomable way, the ancient volume before him seemed to transform into a bottomless abyss of icy darkness: solemn, weighty, and frigid, like the end of all living things. It radiated boundless death and stillness, as though it would devour all creation.

From that fleeting glimpse alone, Zheng Que nearly lost control of his mind. He hurriedly withdrew his hand. In that instant, cold sweat drenched him from head to toe. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath.

After steadying himself, he looked at the Life and Death Book again. The yellowed volume lay quietly on the table, seemingly nothing out of the ordinary.

But Zheng Que's expression had grown utterly grave.

The Life and Death Book...

With his current cultivation, he could barely withstand even touching its cover!

Just then, Zheng Que saw the yin energy emerging from between his brows begin to dwindle. He immediately understood that he couldn't stay in this ruined space of the Wide Hall for long.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out once more toward the cover of the Life and Death Book.

The moment his fingers touched it, that sense of world-destroying, inescapable death swept over him again like a tidal wave, as if it would annihilate him completely. In that instant, Zheng Que felt like a tiny boat alone on an endless ocean, facing towering waves.

Death roared toward him. Zheng Que clenched his teeth. This time, he didn't let go. Summoning all his strength, he struggled to turn the cover.

The next moment, almost every thought in his mind came to a halt, leaving only endless death and despair.

In a daze, after an unknown stretch of time, Zheng Que gradually came to. The yin energy rising from between his brows had grown extremely faint, and the Life and Death Book before him had been opened just a crack.

Beneath that lifted corner was another yellowed page, covered in rows of strange characters. Their strokes were archaic and weathered, resembling both insects and birds. He had never seen anything like them.

The strange thing was, Zheng Que could understand every one of them:

Category: Human Race.

Name: Zheng Que.

Origin: A native of Changfu Town, Taiping County, Tu Prefecture, Great Li Dynasty.

Yang Lifespan: Sixteen years, seven months, and three days; died at the hour of the Pig.

This...

Zheng Que's heart lurched. That was his name!

His origin matched, too!

Only—he was sixteen this year!

To be precise, he had been alive for exactly sixteen years, seven months, and three days in this life...

In other words, he could only live until the hour of the Pig tonight?

At the thought, Zheng Que reached out again and grasped the corner he had lifted on the Life and Death Book.

This time, when his fingers touched the book, he felt only a piercing chill. The sensation of death and despair roaring toward him did not return.

He immediately pulled with all his strength and turned the page fully.

A yellowed sheet appeared before him.

The writing on it was clear and orderly, but Zheng Que's was the only record. Everything else was blank.

At that very moment, the last trace of black smoke between his brows sank into the Life and Death Book. The scene around him immediately warped and trembled. All color rapidly faded, leaving a dizzying blur. In the blink of an eye, he was back in his room.

The daylight outside the window had long since vanished. Dusk had fallen. Beneath the heavy, dark sky, faint starlight outlined the shadowy shapes of nearby trees and distant houses. The whole town was terrifyingly quiet.

Creak!

Just then, the locked front door was suddenly shoved open by something.

A familiar voice rang in Zheng Que's ears at once: "Disciple, your master didn't get enough to eat last night!"

[Note] "Category" comes from the line "The emergence of categories of things must have a beginning" in Xunzi's Encouraging Learning, and refers generally to the categories of all things. The more precise term would be "species," but that's a modern scientific term, and would feel out of place in the pseudo-ancient setting of this novel.

P.S. To make listening more convenient for fellow cultivators, all the notes for this book will be placed in the author's notes and won't count toward the main text.

As for updates, there will be five chapters today. Starting tomorrow, updates will go up at 12:15 p.m., two chapters a day. I'll adjust the update schedule again if the book gets promoted.

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