Lin Mu stood at Reflection Cliff for a long time.
Wind blew up from the bottomless depths, carrying a bone-deep chill. He looked down at his right ring finger—that ring of lines forming the character "Bury" was as clear as if carved, the dark gold traces gleaming faintly in the sunlight.
The stone had shattered.
The mysterious old man had vanished.
But the warmth still lingered in his palm, as if that black stone had never left.
"Host." The trash can poked its head out of his robe, its voice cautious. "You okay?"
Lin Mu didn't answer.
He turned and started back.
After a dozen paces, he suddenly stopped.
"Trash can."
"Yeah?"
"That old man said to make sure you eat enough, don't go hungry." Lin Mu looked down at it. "You know him?"
The trash can's lid trembled.
"N-no... don't know him."
"You stuttered."
"I did not stutter."
"You just stuttered."
The trash can was silent for two seconds, then cracked its lid open a slit, revealing two little eyes that stared at Lin Mu with grievance.
"Host, I really don't know him. But..." It paused. "When he looked at me, I felt like I'd been stripped naked."
Lin Mu raised an eyebrow.
"That's... a unique way to put it."
"I mean, he knew everything!" The trash can grew agitated. "He knew I'm a system, knew I can absorb emotions, even knew whether I'm hungry—things ordinary people shouldn't know!"
Lin Mu kept walking.
"Then what do you think he is?"
The trash can thought for a long moment, then forced out: "Not human, that's for sure."
Lin Mu's steps faltered.
Not human?
He remembered those eyes—when they looked at him, it wasn't like looking at a stranger. More like... an old friend.
Or someone who'd been waiting a long time.
By the time he got back to his room, it was nearly dark.
Lin Mu pushed open the wooden door, lit the oil lamp, and sat on the edge of his bed.
He pulled out the box Zhou Yuan had given him and set it on the table. Then he pulled out the bottle of pills and set it beside it. The two items sat side by side, like puzzles waiting to be solved.
"Host, what are you going to do?"
Lin Mu didn't answer.
He stared at the two items, but his mind was elsewhere.
The old man at Reflection Cliff had said that stone was originally his. Three years ago, he lost it. Three years later, it came back on its own.
Three years ago—the year the original owner's dantian shattered.
The year the original owner came to Tianxuan Sect.
If that stone really had something to do with the original owner's dantian—
"Trash can."
"Yeah?"
"Could a stone shatter someone's dantian?"
The trash can blinked.
"Theoretically... unlikely. A dantian is a cultivator's foundation. Unless hit by extremely strong external force, or a major screw-up in cultivation, it doesn't just shatter." It thought for a moment. "But if that stone was special, that's a different story."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," the trash can's voice grew serious, "if that stone wasn't ordinary—if it was a magical artifact, or some kind of seal—then it could indeed affect the dantian."
Lin Mu was silent for a moment.
"What if the stone didn't shatter the dantian, but sealed something instead?"
The trash can froze.
"Host, you mean—"
Lin Mu raised his right hand, looking at the character "Bury" on his ring finger.
"You said this is an ancient character meaning 'Bury.'" He spoke slowly. "Bury what? Bury who? Or bury some secret?"
The oil lamp's flame flickered.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside the door.
Lin Mu quickly lowered his hand and looked toward the door.
A knock.
"Lin Yuan? You there?"
Wang Tiezhu's voice.
Lin Mu stood and opened the door.
Wang Tiezhu stood there, his face wearing a strange expression—part nervous, part expectant, mixed with a trace of fear. He carried a cloth bundle and glanced inside when Lin Mu opened the door.
"You alone?"
"Yeah."
"Good." Wang Tiezhu squeezed in, closed the door, and plopped the bundle on the table. "Brought you something."
Lin Mu opened the bundle.
Inside were several steamed buns, a dish of pickled vegetables, and a small flask of wine.
"What's this?"
"Thanks." Wang Tiezhu sat across from him. "For what you did for me this morning... that thing. Figured I should thank you."
Lin Mu looked at him.
Above Wang Tiezhu's head floated a faint glow—yellow, much paler than this morning's, and different in shape. More like a hazy halo than formed emotions.
"How was your day today?" Lin Mu asked suddenly.
Wang Tiezhu blinked.
"What do you mean?"
"Your emotions." Lin Mu said. "After getting sucked away, did anything feel different?"
Wang Tiezhu was silent for a moment.
He looked down at the buns on the table, his voice turning muffled.
"Honestly? It's weird."
"Weird how?"
"Like... I don't get angry." Wang Tiezhu said. "This morning, a senior brother chewed me out. Before, I'd have been fuming all day. But today, I listened to him yell, and then... it just passed. Like nothing happened."
He looked up at Lin Mu.
"Lin Yuan, is this normal?"
Lin Mu didn't answer.
He looked at the trash can.
The trash can poked its head out of his robe, studied the yellow glow above Wang Tiezhu's head, and whispered:
"Host, his emotional recovery rate is slower than normal. You cleaned him out too thoroughly this morning. He's only just starting to generate emotions again. This is both good and bad."
"How so?"
"Good: he won't have major mood swings for a few days. Can actually rest." The trash can paused. "Bad: recovery's too slow. If something sudden happens, he might not react in time."
Lin Mu nodded and looked at Wang Tiezhu.
"Any danger lately?"
Wang Tiezhu looked confused.
"Danger? What kind?"
"Like, offended anyone? Have any enemies?"
Wang Tiezhu thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"No. I'm just an ordinary outer disciple. Who would I offend? Worst case, a senior brother yells at me, fellow disciples give me a hard time. Nothing serious."
Lin Mu stared at him for a few seconds.
Wang Tiezhu's eyes were sincere. Didn't look like lying.
But something still felt off.
Why would an ordinary outer disciple come knocking, asking for help with emotional absorption? Normal people's first reaction should be fear, avoidance, pretend nothing happened.
"Wang Tiezhu."
"Yeah?"
"Why do you trust me?"
Wang Tiezhu froze.
"What do you mean, why?"
"I mean," Lin Mu looked into his eyes, "normal people's first reaction to something like this would be fear, or suspicion. Why did you just believe me immediately? And come looking for me?"
Wang Tiezhu opened his mouth, then closed it.
He looked down, silent for a long time.
So long Lin Mu thought he wouldn't answer. Then he finally spoke, his voice heavy:
"Because I don't have a choice."
Lin Mu said nothing.
Wang Tiezhu continued: "You know, I've been at Tianxuan Sect for five years. Five years of getting bullied every single day. At first it was anger. Then it was grief. Then numbness. Every morning I open my eyes, and what I think about isn't cultivation—it's whether I'll get hit today, or yelled at, or have my spirit stones stolen again."
His voice grew softer.
"Sometimes I lie in bed and think... maybe it'd be better if I didn't wake up tomorrow."
Lin Mu's fingers tightened slightly.
"So you came to me because..."
"Because I want to try." Wang Tiezhu looked up. "Try to throw away all these messy emotions. Even if I turn into an idiot afterward, it'd still be better than this."
He looked at Lin Mu, his eyes reddening.
"Lin Yuan, do you think I'm useless?"
Lin Mu was silent for two seconds.
"No."
Wang Tiezhu blinked.
Lin Mu stood, walked over to him, and patted his shoulder.
"You're not useless. You're just tired."
Wang Tiezhu stared at him blankly, and suddenly the tears came.
The yellow glow above his head pulsed violently, growing denser, brighter—
Lin Mu glanced down at the trash can.
The trash can understood. It jumped from his robe, rolled—gulu gulu—to Wang Tiezhu's feet, flipped open its lid, and gave a gentle suck.
The yellow glow vanished.
Wang Tiezhu's tears still clung to his face, but his expression had calmed. He blinked, wiped his face with his sleeve, and gave an embarrassed smile.
"Did I... just cry?"
"Yeah."
"What about?"
"Nothing." Lin Mu said. "Just tired."
Wang Tiezhu nodded and stood up.
"Um... thanks. I'll head back now. Early start tomorrow."
He reached the door, then stopped and looked back at Lin Mu.
"Lin Yuan."
"Yeah?"
"That thing of yours..." He pointed at the trash can. "What's its name?"
Lin Mu blinked.
He looked down at the trash can by his feet, thought for a moment.
"It's called... Bro Bin."
The trash can's lid flew open, its two little eyes going wide as saucers. "Host?!"
Wang Tiezhu nodded and pushed open the door, leaving.
The moment the door closed, the trash can hopped in front of Lin Mu, its lid opening and closing frantically.
"Host! You can't just give me a name like that! What the hell is Bro Bin? I am a noble Emotional Management System! You should call me System Lord, or Your Eminent Emotional Recycling Officer, or—"
"Bro Bin has a nice ring to it." Lin Mu interrupted. "Friendly."
"Friendly my ass! I am not Bro Bin!"
"Then what's your name?"
The trash can opened its mouth, then suddenly realized it didn't actually have a name.
It was silent for two seconds, then snapped its lid shut, flopped onto the floor, and played dead.
Lin Mu chuckled, picked it up, and tucked it back into his robe.
Night deepened.
Lin Mu lay in bed, staring at the beam overhead.
Soft snoring came from next door—the other handymen asleep. Occasionally, distant spirit beast cries drifted through the night before fading away.
He turned over and closed his eyes.
Just as he was drifting off, a voice suddenly came.
Soft, distant, as if carried on the wind.
"Lin Du."
His eyes flew open.
The room was empty.
The oil lamp had burned out. Only moonlight streamed through the window, casting silver across the floor.
"Lin Du."
The voice again.
This time he heard clearly—it came from outside.
Lin Mu sat up and went to the window, looking out.
Under the moonlight, a figure stood in the open space beyond.
Gray robes, thin frame, back turned to him.
The old man from Reflection Cliff.
Lin Mu's heart quickened.
He pushed open the door and walked out.
The night wind was cold, whipping his robes noisily. He stopped behind the old man.
"How do you know where I live?"
The old man didn't turn.
"Guess."
Lin Mu was silent for two seconds.
"Who are you, really?"
The old man turned around.
Moonlight fell on his face—still that ordinary face, still those eyes that seemed to see through everything. He looked at Lin Mu, the corner of his mouth holding a faint smile.
"A fisherman." He said. "I told you."
"There's nothing below that cliff. What are you fishing for?"
The old man smiled.
"Time."
Lin Mu froze.
The old man stepped forward, his gaze falling on Lin Mu's right ring finger.
The character "Bury" gleamed faintly in the moonlight.
"This character. Do you know what it means?"
Lin Mu looked down at it.
"Bury." He said. "Means to inter."
"Right. And wrong." The old man shook his head. "This character 'Bury' has another meaning in ancient language—Seal."
Seal?
The old man continued: "Not burying the dead. Sealing the living. Putting away things that shouldn't exist, keeping them until the time comes to release them."
Lin Mu's heart skipped a beat.
"You mean... there's something sealed on my right hand?"
The old man didn't answer directly.
He looked up at the distant moon.
"Three years ago, you lost a stone. Three years later, that stone came back on its own. Why do you think that is?"
Lin Mu said nothing.
"Because what was sealed is starting to loosen." The old man said. "The stone didn't come back for you. It came back to tell you—the time has come."
"Time for what?"
The old man turned to look at him.
"Time for you to remember."
Remember?
Lin Mu frowned.
"Remember what?"
The old man didn't answer.
Suddenly he raised his hand and gently touched Lin Mu's chest.
An icy breath penetrated his body.
Lin Mu instinctively stepped back, but the breath had already entered him, traveling along his meridians until it stopped at the center of his brow.
"You—"
"Don't move." The old man said. "Look carefully."
Lin Mu froze.
And then he saw it.
Countless images appeared before his eyes—flashing by like a lantern wheel.
He saw a youth in white, standing at the cliff's edge, holding a black stone.
He saw that youth throw the stone into the abyss, watched it arc through the air and disappear into the clouds.
He saw the youth turn around, revealing a face.
It was his own face.
The scene shifted.
He saw that youth in white lying on the ground, covered in blood, surrounded by countless people. They wore robes of every color—old and young, men and women—each with head bowed, looking at him.
One elder stepped forward, crouched down, and looked into his eyes.
"Reincarnation Sovereign, do you regret?"
The youth in white smiled.
"Regret what?"
"Going against heaven's will, ending like this."
The youth in white didn't answer.
He raised his right hand. On his ring finger, a circle of dark gold lines glowed faintly.
"Bury." He said. "Seal everything I am. Until my next life."
Then he closed his eyes.
The image shattered.
Lin Mu snapped back to reality, finding himself drenched in cold sweat.
The old man stood before him, watching quietly.
"Remember now?"
Lin Mu gasped for air, unable to speak.
Remember?
Those images, that youth in white, those words "Reincarnation Sovereign"—
Was that him?
No.
That wasn't him.
That was... his past life?
"Who are you?" Lin Mu's voice came out hoarse.
The old man smiled.
"Me? I'm the one who helped you seal those things away."
He raised his hand, and Lin Mu noticed—on his right ring finger, there was also a circle of lines.
Identical lines.
Also the character "Bury."
"You—"
"I was also one of Reincarnation Sovereign's people." The old man said. "Or rather, the contingency plan he left behind."
He lowered his hand, looking at Lin Mu.
"Three years ago, your dantian shattered. Not because of that stone, but because what was sealed had grown too strong to contain. That stone took the blow for you, absorbed most of the power, and shattered itself."
"What about Zhou Yuan?"
The old man raised an eyebrow.
"Zhou Yuan?"
"That senior brother of mine. The one who's been poisoning me."
The old man was silent for a moment.
"That person's affairs aren't my concern." He said. "You investigate that yourself."
Lin Mu: "..."
"But I can tell you one thing." The old man said. "That black heart above his head? It's not his."
Lin Mu froze.
"What do you mean?"
"The resentment sealed in that heart—it's yours."
Mine?
No, the original owner's.
But the original owner was his past self—
"You mean Zhou Yuan collected the original owner's resentment?"
The old man nodded.
"When people die, they leave many things behind. Resentment. Obsession. Regret. These things don't dissipate easily. If someone knows the method, they can collect them, use them for their own purposes."
He looked at Lin Mu.
"Zhou Yuan collected your past life's resentment—not to harm you, but to—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Suddenly he turned to look into the distance.
Lin Mu followed his gaze. Saw nothing.
"Someone's coming." The old man said. "I have to go."
"Wait—"
The old man waved his hand and turned to walk into the darkness.
After a few steps, he stopped and spoke without turning back:
"Oh, and that trash can of yours? It's not a system."
Lin Mu was stunned.
"Then what is it?"
The old man smiled.
"Also from your past life."
His figure vanished into the darkness.
Lin Mu stood there, frozen for a long time.
The night wind blew past, chilling him.
He looked down at his robe.
The trash can poked its head out, its two little eyes blinking up at him.
"Host."
"Yeah?"
"What was your past life... like?"
Lin Mu was silent for a moment.
"No idea." He said. "But probably pretty dramatic."
The trash can nodded.
"Then I'm probably pretty dramatic too. Must be family."
Lin Mu couldn't help but laugh.
He turned and walked back.
After a few steps, he suddenly remembered something and stopped.
"Bro Bin."
"...Host, could you maybe pick a different name?"
"No."
The trash can sighed.
"Fine. Bro Bin it is. What did you want to ask?"
"That old man said you're not a system." Lin Mu said. "So what are you, really?"
The trash can was silent for a long time.
So long Lin Mu thought it wouldn't answer. Then it finally spoke, its voice heavy:
"I don't know either."
Lin Mu blinked.
"Really don't know."
"But you know you're from my past life?"
"I know." The trash can said. "From the first moment I saw you, I knew. But what exactly... I can't remember."
Lin Mu nodded.
Didn't ask further.
Back in his room. Back in bed.
He stared at the beam above, countless images flashing through his mind.
The youth in white. The black stone. Reincarnation Sovereign. The sealed secrets.
And Zhou Yuan.
That black heart, filled with the original owner's resentment.
Zhou Yuan collected that resentment. For what?
To harm him?
Or to—
"Bro Bin."
"Yeah?"
"Starting tomorrow, keep an eye on Zhou Yuan."
"Keep an eye on him for what?"
The corner of Lin Mu's mouth lifted.
"Keep an eye on when he uses that black heart again."
Outside the window, the moon slowly moved.
The night was still young.