He took a deep breath, massaging his forehead. The earlier headache had faded, only to be replaced by a heavier, duller one, not from pain, but from the grim understanding of 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 eighty-two years.
His gaze drifted to the husk, to her. His eyes were 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. She 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 dismiss it:
Living in the village had been both a blessing and a curse. While sheltered from most dangers, it was bound, constrained, and regulated, just like every settlement surrounding the sect. It was a controlled environment and 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," he thought coldly, "that he had merely been tending a ranch."
He stood 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 as a trace of pity crept onto his wrinkled face. He pitied the dead village chief.
The sect had not merely controlled one man; it had conditioned minds 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 something dangerous within him: an urge to doubt everything he had ever accepted as truth.
Yet lingering on manipulation, lies, and control was meaningless now. 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. 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 presence.
He exhaled slowly. Even though he knew his luck was shitty, it wasn't something that could cripple him or make him hesitate.
He stood at the entrance of the cave, 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.
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 and the husk moved instantly, stiff yet precise.
"Put the array plate into the spatial pouch."
The husk complied, its movements stiff yet efficient. Before it could close the pouch, he added, "Show me what's inside."
At once, five jade vials floated out, hovering between them. 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 canons as for the 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 Establishment cultivator'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 forced into becoming a natal weapon.
"Damn," Wuji muttered again, shaking his head. "Being an array master really is a wealth magnet."
He snatched one of the hovering swords; it felt slender and light in his grasp. After slashing the air to test its balance, he set it aside and reached for a spear. It was far too heavy for his frail frame, slipping from his fingers and hitting the stone floor with a dull, heavy clang.
He looked down at his trembling hand. "I have to begin body forging quickly."
Turning back to the husk, he realized pulling items one by one was inefficient. He willed another minute of lifespan into it.
"Take everything out."
The spatial pouch emptied instantly. A small treasure hoard floated before him: roughly six hundred low-tier spirit stones, two mid-tier spirit stones, stacks of array manuals, several low-grade 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 fragmented 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 making his heart race, each one justifying the pain, and each one showing a future he had never dared imagine weeks ago.
The torture, the blood, and 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, and the floating items dropped to the stone floor in a series of dull thuds, snapping Wuji out of 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 vast forest relying on the husk, he'd be burning through years, perhaps decades of stolen lifespan. 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. Lifespans' targets were everywhere. With the husk at a quarter of its former strength—still enough to rival an early Foundation Establishment cultivator—years were not the true concern.
The real problem was far more mundane: the coffins for the 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, and 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. Without hesitation, Wuji willed the coffin's inner storage to manifest.
The coffin's wooden interior rippled like the ocean—the wood dissolving into a black, viscous expanse. He crouched and plunged his hand in. This time, there was no resistance; his arm passed through the darkness as if sinking into cold mud.
At his command, the husk put the treasures into the liquid one after another. Each item vanished beneath the surface without a ripple, swallowed whole by the space beyond.
Within moments, the cave floor was bare. Satisfied, Wuji straightened and stepped into the coffin.
His right leg entered the black liquid first, met by a faint chill and a mild, heavy pressure like stepping into deep sand. Then, he lowered his other leg into the liquid.
Immediately, his body sank without resistance, and a moment later, Wuji's head emerged from the other side of the black expanse as if breaking the surface of a still, black ocean.
Looking around, he first saw the most eye-catching thing: gray fog, drifting lazily through a dark expanse roughly ten square meters wide. He understood the measurement instinctively.
As the rest of his body rose from the liquid, a faint sense of dissonance struck him as he had expected his legs to emerge first. He shook his head, dismissing the thought, the how he emerge, 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, but 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, 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 were floating 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 space, he turned slowly toward the edge of the fog. Beyond the ten-meter boundary, thick, heavy, and 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 his curiosity won out. He persevered. Minutes passed. Then, indistinct and utterly incomprehensible whispers erupted in his ears, brimming with hostile intent.
Wuji recoiled instantly, tearing his gaze away and staggering back. His breath came in ragged gasps and his chest heaved as if he had sprinted ten kilometers without resting.
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, Wuji was certain that 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 of the world.
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 as it was the only area he could perceive. Gray fog drifted around him, languid and directionless, like mist in a place without wind.
Perhaps this fog belonged to a higher dimension as well, governed by laws that answered to no mortal logic. And perhaps, Wuji thought quietly, his own ignorance was his only shield for now.