After the examination ended, the Heart-Eater Sect was unnaturally quiet.
Usually, there was at least some activity in the alleys—people cursing, fighting, or getting caught stealing. But today, everyone was licking their wounds.
Gu Wujiu returned to the disciple dormitory, shut the door, and slid down the wall to sit on the floor.
He'd kept up the limp all the way back, and his leg really was a little numb now.
“Host,” the system said, its tone carrying a rare hint of calm. “Your current status: thirty-five Merit Points, two fragments of a cultivation method, and one Fasting Pill. Compared with three days ago, your assets have tripled.”
“Tripling this tiny pile of assets,” Gu Wujiu said with his eyes closed, “if I'd had this little money in my previous life, Third Brother would've kicked me out a long time ago.”
“But you're alive.”
“…That is true.”
He was silent for a while, then pulled out the last Fasting Pill from his robe. He spun it twice between his fingers before tucking it away again.
He couldn't eat it. This was his last trump card.
A faint sound of footsteps came from outside, followed by a cautious knock.
“Gu… Gu Wujiu?”
It was Zhou Xiao'an.
Gu Wujiu didn't move.
“Are you still alive?”
“Dead.”
The room outside went quiet for two seconds, then came a relieved sigh. “You scared me to death… You played the limp too well. I thought you were really hurt…”
“What do you want?”
“I… I brought you something.”
Gu Wujiu hesitated, then got up and pulled the door open a crack.
Zhou Xiao'an stood outside. His gray robe was still stained with mud from the examination, but his face was clean, as if he'd deliberately washed it. He held out a rough cloth bundle with both hands, presenting it with the solemnity of someone offering a priceless treasure.
“What is it?”
“Fasting Pills. Two of them.” Zhou Xiao'an lowered his head, his ears turning red again. “I saved them up before… I kept them hidden under my bedboard. Ma Kui doesn't know.”
Gu Wujiu looked at the bundle but didn't take it.
“Keep them for yourself.”
“You only have one left.” Zhou Xiao'an raised his head, a stubbornness in his eyes completely unlike his usual timid self. “You gave me one, so I'll give you two back. That's… that's the rule.”
Gu Wujiu stared at him for three seconds.
The kid learned fast. “The rule” was a phrase Gu Wujiu had taught him.
“Fine.” He reached out and took the bundle, weighing it in his hand. “At least you've got some brains.”
Zhou Xiao'an smiled, showing his two front teeth like a cat that had stolen a fish.
“Then I'll… I'll head back first.” He turned and walked two steps before looking back. “Gu Wujiu, are you still going to practice tomorrow? I can keep watch for you.”
“Get lost.”
“Okay! See you tomorrow!”
The door closed.
Gu Wujiu looked down at the two Fasting Pills in his hand. The corner of his mouth twitched, then quickly flattened again.
“Host,” the system said in a forlorn voice, “you now have three Fasting Pills. The same number you started with.”
“Mm.”
“But the way you obtained them is completely different. The first three were distributed by the sect. Of these three, two were given to you by someone else.” The system paused. “Interesting.”
“What’s interesting about it?”
“You're being a good person in an evil sect, and then the good person repaid you. This feedback loop is forty percent faster than my projected model.”
“Speak English.”
“It means you're better suited for this job than I expected.”
Gu Wujiu didn't respond. He put away the Fasting Pills, walked over to the battered table, sat down, and closed his eyes as he began attempting cultivation practice.
He had already memorized the contents of the fragments of the cultivation method. Qi returns to the dantian, the mind guards the spiritual platform, and between inhalation and exhalation—
A faint stream of energy rose from deep in his lower abdomen, as thin as a strand of hair. It traveled upward along his meridians for half an inch before slamming into a wall.
The cultivation technique route originally used by the Heart-Eater Sect.
The two streams of energy pushed against each other in his meridians, like two people running into each other in a narrow alley and refusing to yield.
It hurt.
Not agonizing pain, but a dull, bloated ache, like someone slowly pressing their knuckles into his internal organs.
He gritted his teeth and held on for ten breaths. The new energy finally retreated, shrinking back into his dantian like a rat frightened back into its hole.
“First-stage integration progress: three percent,” the system announced.
“Only three percent?”
“The Heart-Eater Sect's old energy has taken deep root in your meridians. The new energy needs to seep in little by little. You can't rush it.”
“How long until it reaches one hundred percent?”
“At the current rate, twelve to fifteen days.”
Gu Wujiu opened his eyes and rubbed his temples.
Twelve to fifteen days. The next end-of-month examination was thirty days away. He had enough time, but not much to spare.
He was about to try again when he suddenly stopped.
Someone was outside the door.
It wasn't Zhou Xiao'an. Zhou Xiao'an walked with the wind at his back, his footsteps light but hurried, like a small animal scurrying away. The person outside made almost no sound—not light footsteps, but the deliberate silence of someone suppressing every noise.
In his previous life, back in the urban village, only one kind of person made footsteps like that—someone casing the place.
Gu Wujiu didn't move, not even opening his eyes. He maintained his cultivation posture, his breathing steady, while focusing all his attention on his ears.
The footsteps stopped outside the door for roughly five breaths.
Then they left.
There was no knock and no probing. The person had simply stopped for a moment, then walked away.
Gu Wujiu waited another thirty breaths. Only after confirming that the person had gone far away did he slowly open his eyes.
“System.”
“Here.”
“Could you detect the person outside just now?”
“Yes.” The system's tone abruptly grew cautious, as if weighing its words. “Their cultivation… cannot be determined.”
“Cannot be determined?”
“Correct. The other party deliberately concealed their aura. I can confirm only one thing—they aren't in the Qi Condensation realm.”
Gu Wujiu's fingers stopped on the tabletop.
Not Qi Condensation.
All of the Heart-Eater Sect's outer disciples were in the Qi Condensation realm. Not being in Qi Condensation meant they were at least at Foundation Establishment.
A Foundation Establishment cultivator had come to stand outside an outer disciple's dormitory for five seconds, then left.
Something was wrong.
“Host,” the system said in a low voice, as if afraid someone might overhear it. “I recommend that you don't go outside right now.”
“Why?”
“Because I just scanned the residual information in this body. There's one record I hadn't noticed before—the body's original owner's official cause of death was ‘cultivation deviation, resulting in shattered meridians and death.’”
“What’s the problem with that?”
“The problem is,” the system paused, “a first-level Qi Condensation cultivator has pitifully little spiritual energy in their body. It's fundamentally impossible for them to produce enough backlash to shatter their meridians. It would be like saying someone who had just learned how to light a fire was burned to death by the fire they started. Theoretically, it's not impossible, but the odds are absurdly low.”
Gu Wujiu slowly straightened.
“You mean—”
“The body's original owner didn't die on his own.”
The room was silent for a long time.
The flame of the oil lamp flickered twice, casting wavering shadows on the wall.
“Someone killed the original Gu Wujiu,” Gu Wujiu said in an unnervingly calm voice, even surprising himself, “then disguised it as cultivation deviation.”
“That is the most reasonable deduction.”
“Then the person outside just now—”
“They may be connected to this, or they may not.” For once, there was no sarcasm in the system's tone. “But no matter the reason, a Foundation Establishment cultivator coming all the way to stand outside an outer disciple's dormitory for five seconds isn't a good thing.”
Gu Wujiu leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping absently against the table.
He had seen situations like this in his previous life. Once, Third Brother had dealt with a traitor. Later, he heard that the traitor's phone was still sending messages. Third Brother sent someone to investigate and found that the traitor's girlfriend was using his account. A false alarm.
But Third Brother had said something Gu Wujiu remembered to this day: “The dead shouldn't have body heat. If a dead person suddenly has body heat, either they've come back from the dead, or someone is living in their place. Either way, we need to get to the bottom of it.”
Now he was that “dead person who suddenly had body heat.”
The original Gu Wujiu was dead. The body should have gone completely cold. But Gu Wujiu had crossed over, and the body had started breathing, walking, eating, and taking part in examinations again—and had even walked out of the examination grounds without a scratch.
If the person who killed the original owner was still in the Heart-Eater Sect, and saw someone who should have been dead bouncing around alive again—
What would they think?
“Damn it.” Gu Wujiu cursed under his breath.
Playing lame, smearing himself with mud, pretending to be weak—those tricks could fool outer disciples at the same level, but not a Foundation Establishment cultivator. A Foundation Establishment cultivator's spiritual sense could scan his physical condition directly. One sweep would reveal that he hadn't been hurt at all.
All his disguises might be completely transparent to that person.
“System,” he said, his voice sinking, “I need to know the original owner's cause of death. Every detail.”
“The information I can retrieve is limited. Most of the original owner's memories were damaged during world-hopping. Only fragments remain.”
“What fragments?”
“Vague images. Darkness. Pain. And… a voice.”
“What voice?”
The system was silent for three seconds.
“‘You shouldn't have seen that.’”
Gu Wujiu's pupils contracted slightly.
“Seen what?”
“I don't know. The memory ends there.”
He closed his eyes and turned the sentence over and over in his mind.
You shouldn't have seen that.
The original owner had seen something he shouldn't have, then been silenced. The killer had disguised it as cultivation deviation, believing there would be no witnesses left.
But now, the “dead person” had stood back up.
The killer couldn't be sure whether the person who had risen still remembered that “thing.” So he had come, stood outside the door for five seconds, listened to the activity inside, and then left.
He hadn't come to kill Gu Wujiu. If he had wanted to, killing a first-level Qi Condensation cultivator with Foundation Establishment cultivation would have taken a single thought. There would have been no need to hesitate outside the door.
He had come to confirm something.
To confirm whether “Gu Wujiu” had really come back to life, or whether someone else had taken his place.
“Host,” the system said again, “I have good news and bad news.”
“Go on.”
“The good news is that the other party is currently observing the situation and won't act in the short term. The bad news is—”
“The bad news is that I don't know who he is, but he knows where I live.”
The system was silent for a second.
“…Host's ability to assess danger does exceed my expectations.”
“That isn't danger assessment.” Gu Wujiu stood and walked to the window. Through the window, which was only as wide as a palm, he looked outside. The alley was empty, heavy with fog. Nothing was visible.
“This is what happens when someone corners you in an alley.”
He turned around, his gaze falling on the pile of gray robes in the corner.
“I need to sleep somewhere else.”
“Outer disciples cannot change their dormitories without permission.”
“Who said anything about changing dormitories?” He crouched and began rummaging through the pile of robes. From the very bottom, he pulled out the oldest, most tattered one, rolled it into a ball, and stuffed it into his robe. “I'm just finding somewhere else to sleep. I'll come back to the dormitory as usual and leave my things here as usual, so he'll think I still live here every day.”
“And in reality—”
“I'll sleep somewhere else.” He straightened and dusted off his hands. “When I was dodging debt collectors in my previous life, I once switched between eleven different places to sleep at most. Never the same place two days in a row.”
“Host,” the system said, its tone peculiar, “what kind of life did you lead in your previous life?”
“An exciting one.”
He pulled the door open a crack, looked left and right, and slipped out after confirming that no one was in the alley.
The fog wrapped around his figure.
He didn't head toward Zhou Xiao'an, nor did he go in any familiar direction. He picked only the most secluded corners, the places no one visited, like a wild cat that had caught the scent of danger and was beginning to survey its territory anew.
Inside his head, the system remained quiet for a long time.
Then it said, in a voice so soft it sounded like it was talking to itself:
“Merit System operating log, day six. Host alive and now actively avoiding high-level threats. Estimated lifespan assessment… revised upward.”
Gu Wujiu didn't hear it.
He was crouched inside an abandoned storage room, tapping the floor with one finger as he counted the cracks in the wall, calculating which gaps allowed air through and which corner was least likely to be discovered.
Three Fasting Pills. Thirty-five Merit Points. Two fragments of a cultivation method. One tagalong.
And a Foundation Establishment cultivator whose identity was unknown and who might be looking for him.
The cards had changed again.
But Chen Hao had never been afraid of the cards changing.
What he feared was not knowing who the dealer was.
Now he hadn't even seen the dealer's face.