Examining the Heart

The stone gate closed behind them.

Ning Buhui stood in complete darkness, where he couldn't see his own hand in front of his face. There was no light at all. He didn't know how much time had passed when suddenly a light appeared ahead of him, and he walked towards it.

In the blink of an eye, we were in a completely different world.

He stood on the well platform in Bluestone Town. The winter wind blew in from the northwest, making him shrink his neck. The well platform was covered with a thin layer of ice, and his toes, which were sticking out of his tattered cloth shoes, were frozen purple. He looked down at his hands, which were small and thin, just bones. This was when he was six years old.

He remembered this day. It was his second winter in Bluestone Town. It had snowed heavily the night before, and the well was frozen. He was woken up by an aunt in the yard to fetch water. The aunt stood under the eaves, wrapped in a thick cotton-padded coat, her breath steaming in the air as she urged him to hurry. He stepped barefoot on the ice, his toes feeling like they were being pricked by needles.

"What are you dawdling about? Have you gotten the water yet?" Auntie's voice came from behind.

He didn't answer. His feet were numb with cold, and the December wind howled against his thin body, causing the chilblains on his fingers to throb. He glanced back at the woman; she had a cold expression on her face.

"I'll go now." Without fully understanding the situation, he decided to take it one step at a time.

After saying this, he picked up a bucket about his height and walked towards the well, reminiscing about this period of his childhood.

It seems that winter was particularly cold that year, and the mountains were snowed in early on. He couldn't find anything to eat, so he could only do odd jobs for others in exchange for some food.

He checked his Soul Power and found it to be completely empty. He had memories and knew he was in an illusion, but he didn't know the conditions for clearing the level.

He placed the bucket at the well's edge and stood on tiptoe to reach the rope on the windlass. His fingers were numb with cold, and the frostbite on his knuckles had cracked and bled; touching the rope caused excruciating pain.

He gritted his teeth and lowered the rope, the bucket plunging into the well with a "thud." Then he turned the handle, the rope winding back up, the bucket filling with water, so heavy it almost pulled him down. He gripped the handle with both hands, using all his strength to pull the bucket up. On the way back to the kitchen, water splashed out, wetting his trousers; a gust of cold wind blew, and it froze into thin ice, making him shiver.

The kitchen was warm from the fire, but it was someone else's warmth. He struggled to pour water into the vat, while his aunt, kneading dough by the stove, said without looking up, "Go chop the firewood."

He responded, walked into the yard, and picked up the axe, which was taller than him. The axe was very heavy, and his hand went numb when he swung it. After chopping a dozen or so pieces of firewood, he had two blisters on his hands.

He didn't say a word. The blood blister burst, he wrapped it with a rag, and continued chopping.

After chopping firewood, the aunt in the kitchen gave him a bowl of porridge and half a coarse flour bun. The bun was still cold, and the porridge was so thin you could see the bottom of the bowl. He squatted by the stove, soaked the bun in the porridge, and after it softened a little, he ate it in a few bites. With something in his stomach, he wasn't so hungry anymore.

During his two years in Bluestone Town, he spent almost every day like this. In winter, he chopped firewood and carried water for others; in summer, he cut grass and fed livestock. Whenever someone needed him, he would go and exchange his services for a meal or some clothes.

When no one called him, he would go to the fields on the outskirts of town to find food, digging for wild vegetables, picking wild fruits, and occasionally catching a rabbit to improve his meals. The people in town didn't bully him, but they didn't care about him either. He was like that crooked tree at the entrance of town; everyone knew there was such a thing, but no one would give him a second glance.

Time began to accelerate, and the days in the illusion passed one by one. He relived those winters and summers, and tasted again the bitterness of hunger and cold.

Ning Buhui watched these images flash by rapidly before his eyes, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He thought he no longer cared about these things, that they were all in the past. But when they were laid bare before him again, he realized that he still did care.

He cared about the hunger and cold he had endured, and hated those who made him experience the harsh realities of life. These hatreds were buried deep in his heart, only to resurface when he experienced those things again.

The scene has changed.

His body was transparent, and others seemed unable to see him. He stood in a side hall of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect School. The hall was filled with the warmth of incense burning with beast-gold incense, and a row of people dressed in brocade robes sat in front of him. Ning Fengzhi sat in the middle, with a refined face and gentle temperament. Several elders stood on either side of him, discussing matters.

One of the elders spoke up, "The resource allocation has been finalized, although a branch of the family was sacrificed. The result is still satisfactory, but we feel somewhat sorry for Ning Yuanshan's family. The surviving child is still young. What do you all think we should do with him?"

An elder with slanted eyes chimed in, "Those who enjoy the main lineage's resources should be prepared to sacrifice themselves for it. Bringing that child back is a waste of resources. Send him to Bluestone Town; just give him some food so he won't starve."

Some people wanted to object, but were pulled back by others and gave up the idea of standing up. To put it bluntly, it was just a side branch, so it was no big deal to abandon it.

Ning Fengzhi sat there, listening to the others' discussions without saying a word. He didn't even know who the child was. To him, the child was just a minor character, not worth wasting his energy on.

Ning Buhui stood in the center of the hall, watching the people gossiping, watching them casually decide their fate, watching them scramble for resources with flushed faces.

He clearly remembered that when his father was framed, not a single member of the main branch of the family stood up for him. He remembered that on the night his mother was beaten to death, not a single person offered a helping hand. He remembered that when he was shoved into that oxcart, not a single member of the so-called clansmen cared whether such a young child could survive.

Ning Buhui laughed as she watched. It was truly laughable.

The scene shifts again. He stands on a gravel road, his four-year-old body lying in the mud, his knees scraped, running barefoot on the Shitou. Behind him is his mother's last muffled groan. He remembers running all night, until the soles of his feet are bloody and mangled, until his aunt stops him on an oxcart.

Ning Buhui closed his eyes. He didn't need to see any more of this. He remembered everything. He remembered his mother's blood, his father's back, the cold of winter, the nights when his stomach ached from hunger, and the hatred buried deep in his heart.

Suddenly, the scene stopped. Everything vanished, and he stood in a vast white void, with a person appearing before him. He recognized this person; it was him from his previous life, the one wearing the windbreaker issued by the archaeological team.

The woman named Ning Buhui looked at him and asked, "Do you regret it?"

Ning Buhui remained silent.

"Do you regret traveling here?" that version of yourself asked. "If you hadn't shielded Professor Chen from that Shitou, you would still be on Blue Star, doing your archaeology, writing your papers, and living a normal life. You wouldn't have lost your parents at six, you wouldn't have gone hungry and cold, you wouldn't have had to fight wild beasts alone in the wilderness, and you wouldn't have suffered so much."

Ning Buhui stared at that version of herself for a long time.

He remembered Professor Chen's trembling hands as he crouched down in the tomb passage to examine the relief. He remembered pushing Professor Chen away before the falling rocks, though he hadn't thought much about it at the time. He remembered the black and white tower he saw when the boulder fell. He remembered his life in the Spirit Hall over the years.

"I don't regret it," he said.

The other person looked at him, their face expressionless. "Why?"

"Those things were indeed bitter," Ning Buhui said. "The hatred of having my fate arbitrarily arranged, the pain of frostbite on my feet in winter, the burning sensation in my stomach from hunger. But in the end, I survived, and even gained considerable strength. I just need to keep getting stronger, strong enough to fear no one, strong enough to control my own destiny."

He paused, then said, "I don't regret it."

The other person tilted their head and asked again, "Do you hate it?"

"I hate it. Before today, this hatred buried deep in my heart might have become my inner demons. But after experiencing all of this again, it has also allowed me to see my own heart clearly."

He took a breath and continued, "I cultivate to become stronger, not to prove anything to anyone, nor to take revenge on anyone. I just don't want to go back to those days when my fate was decided by others. When my parents died, there was nothing I could do. When I was sent to Bluestone Town, no one asked me if I wanted to go. When I walked into the Spirit Hall alone at the age of six, there wasn't even anyone to see me off. I've had enough of that kind of life. That hatred will eventually become fuel on my path forward; I won't allow it to become a stumbling block on my way to becoming stronger."

That version of myself paused for a moment, then laughed. A hearty laugh.

The self smiled at him and said, "You've passed." Then its entire form shattered into specks of light and dissipated into the vast white void. Subsequently, this nothingness began to crack, like a mirror, with cracks spreading from the center outwards.

Ning Buhui stood in the shattered space, his heart at peace. The old memories hadn't disappeared; they were still in his heart. But he no longer felt those things were the Shitou pressing on his heart. They were just events that had happened, things he remembered, and then he moved on.

The void shattered completely. The darkness dissipated, and he stood once more in the stone chamber with its towering dome. The bas-reliefs on the walls remained, as did the jade slip on the stone platform. The words on the jade slip had changed. "Eighty-one trials, all passed. Supreme Sect Trial complete."

He looked down at himself, still wearing the leather armor he had worn when he went in. Then he looked down at his ring, pulled out a water pouch, and drank several mouthfuls.

A flash of light appeared on the stone platform, and a jade slip and three wooden boxes floated before him. The jade slip began with a few lines of text, the gist of which was: The Supreme Sect is the number one sect in ancient times. Disciples who successfully complete the trials will receive sect rewards. Among them is a 120,000-year -Head Soul Bone called the Time-Reversing Heavenly Secret Skull, which can greatly enhance spiritual power and has two skills: one is the active skill "Eye of the Future," which allows one to see what will happen three seconds in advance, and the other is the passive skill "Pupil of Illusion Breaking," which can see through all disguises and illusions.

The other two wooden boxes contain a Spirit Ascension Pill that can instantly raise the Soul Power Level of Soul Master below level 90 by one level, and a map—a map of another secret realm. Further investigation is needed.

Ning Buhui put the jade slip and wooden box into his ring. He walked to the stone platform and looked at the last sentence on it. "The secret realm will close in one day. Those who have not left by then will be trapped in the void rift."

He calculated that he had been here for almost a year. He had been here since he was nine years old. His Soul Power Level had increased from level 43 to level 48, and he had completed the Soul-Suppressing God-Devouring and the Soul-Devouring Divine Light. He had also obtained Hundred Thousand Year Soul Bone, a top-grade pill, and a map of a secret realm. This gain far exceeded any of his expectations before he came here.

He turned and walked towards the exit of the stone chamber. The passage was not long, only a few dozen steps to the end. He pushed open the stone door and stood once again in the depression surrounded by the circular stone wall. Above him was a gray-white dome, and the stone platform was still there, but the patterns on it had completely faded, and broken jade pieces were scattered all over the ground.

He walked out, squeezed through the narrow gap, and stood once again in the valley of the Star Dou Great Forest. The surrounding environment made him feel disoriented for a moment.

He tilted his head back and took a deep breath.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the tree canopy, scattering into patches of light that fell on his face, shoulders, and the back of his hands. A breeze blew by, carrying the scent of pine resin and decaying leaves, the coolness of earth and stream water, and the lingering warmth left by creatures moving among the grass and trees.

He had spent over a year in the secret realm, and each time he passed a level, the scene would be regenerated. They were all Simulation, illusions. It was like looking at something through a thin veil—you could see it, but you couldn't touch it. Only now, standing in the real valley, with the real morning breeze blowing across his face, did he finally realize that he had truly emerged.

He stood there for a while, allowing his body to gradually adapt to the outside temperature, humidity, and smells. The Soul Power in his meridians was abundant, and his foundation at level forty-eight was solid, making him incomparable to before entering the secret realm. More importantly, his state of mind had been honed to a clearer and more lucid level in the eighty-first level, resolving the potential risks of inner demons on his future leveling path.

He stretched his limbs a few times. The injuries to his left shoulder and back were almost healed; the pills he brought out from the secret realm were much more potent than those from outside. He took out a piece of dried meat from his ring, chewed on it, and headed south along the road.

A year has passed; it's time to return to Spirit City. The tournament must be over by now, and he doesn't know how much he missed. But what he gained this time is definitely far more than he could have in a single tournament.

He wondered if his teachers and Hu Liena were worried about him. He had been out of contact for almost a year; he wondered if they thought he had died and if his return would shock them. He wondered what Hu Liena would say if she saw him like this. She would probably grumble, "Junior brother, you've been gone for so long without a word again." Yan would probably scold him a couple of times first, then drag him to eat. Xie Yue would probably say nothing, just nod. Thinking about all this, he smiled. Unconsciously, that place had become his home, his new attachment, and he missed everyone even more.

As he walked, his pace quickened until he began to run. With a "whoosh," the Wind Thunder Wings appeared on his back, fluttering gently. Bluish-purple light fragments fell from the wingtips, dissipating into the air under the sunlight. The ten-year-old boy flew swiftly through the Star Dou Great Forest, with Martial Spirit City and those waiting for him to return home ahead.