Gu Muye woke to the dim, sickly light of a single bone lantern hanging from the low ceiling. The stone floor of his abode was cold against the straw bedding, rough walls damp with lingering moisture. The air smelled faintly of mold and something sour-sweet, corpse qi that seeped into everything here over time.
His heart beat faster for a breath, the old fear stirring. But the memories settled quickly, familiar now, no longer distant scraps. The Corpse Refining Sect. Six years to reach the Corpse Vein Realm or become one of the lifeless puppets chained in the Bone Garden. The nine minor stages of the Corpse Qi Baptism Realm, each meant to force the body to accept corpse qi's poison, hardening fragile meridians until corpse veins could open.
And Zhou Min.
The thought of him eased something tight in Gu Muye's chest. Maybe part of that comfort came from the original soul's lingering affection, but it felt real enough now, and that was what mattered.
Beyond the narrow doorway, dawn hadn't yet broken, but a pale green glow spilled across the stone path outside, cast by lanterns shaped from carved bone. Rows of small stone abodes stretched along the path, each spaced just far enough apart to give a sense of solitude, though not true privacy. The ground was damp, patches of moss creeping between the stones.
A soft scuff of sandals against stone made Gu Muye look up. Zhou Min stood outside, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Round-faced, robe a little too tight at the waist, cheeks still slightly flushed from sleep or worry.
"You're awake," Zhou Min murmured, voice low to keep from disturbing others. His eyes scanned Gu Muye's face, narrowing slightly. "You look pale, worse than yesterday."
Gu Muye forced a slow breath, his hand resting lightly over his abdomen. "Just a headache," he said. "Bad one. It's passing."
Zhou Min frowned, lines creasing around his mouth. "You sure? You were out longer than usual. Thought you might've burned your veins trying too hard."
Gu Muye shook his head. "Didn't even get that far." The words felt true enough. Inside, the black bone lay cold and unmoving, silent since it had swallowed part of the corpse qi's hate yesterday.
Zhou Min's gaze softened, though the worry stayed. "Don't scare me like that. We've only been here a year. I'm not ready to be the last of us standing."
The faint attempt at humor eased the air between them, if only slightly. Gu Muye stepped out from the doorway, the cold stone of the courtyard sharp underfoot even through worn sandals. The two of them stood a few paces apart under the flickering bone lantern. Around them, other disciples stirred behind thick wooden doors, but no one else stepped outside yet.
Gu Muye remembered their arrival clearly now, not as borrowed memory, but as something that felt like his own past. They'd come together as part of the same batch, two boys from small, dusty towns, faces set in forced calm as they tried not to show fear. The memory brought a dull warmth that surprised him.
Zhou Min's breath misted faintly in the cold morning air. "You remember what the elders said about the nine minor stages?" he asked, voice softer now.
"Yeah," Gu Muye said. "If we can't get through them before the six years are up, we don't even get to try for the Corpse Vein Realm."
"And most don't," Zhou Min finished, eyes turning toward the ground. "They say maybe one in ten makes it."
Gu Muye nodded, the knowledge feeling natural, woven into thought rather than whispered from somewhere else. "Corpse qi burns the veins until they can adapt. But if you draw too much before your body's ready…"
"Black blood," Zhou Min muttered, voice barely above breath. "And then they drag what's left of you to the Bone Garden."
They stood silent for a moment, the cold sinking deeper through cloth and skin. The bone lantern overhead guttered slightly, shadows twitching across stone walls. Gu Muye let the silence stretch, gathering his resolve.
"I'm going to try again," he said finally, meeting Zhou Min's eyes.
Zhou Min's expression tightened. "You sure? You fainted yesterday."
"I know," Gu Muye said. "But I have to. We've barely started the first stage. If we wait too long, the Bone Scripture Hall might send someone to check."
Zhou Min exhaled, the breath coming out ragged. "Just… don't force it, Muye. Corpse qi wants to kill you before it helps you. Better slow than dead."
"I know," Gu Muye repeated, softer this time. The words felt heavy, but true.
Zhou Min's gaze held his a moment longer, then he stepped back toward his own abode, the moss-slick stones whispering underfoot. "I'll be here. If you feel something go wrong, stop. Promise me."
"I promise," Gu Muye said.
The words felt heavier than a simple vow. In this place, they meant survival.
When Zhou Min turned away, Gu Muye stepped back into his abode, the lanternlight chasing his shadow across the bare stone floor. The small room felt colder now, the walls closing in.
He lowered himself to the straw, legs folding beneath him. The rough fibers scratched at his skin through the thin robe. Breath slowed, thoughts sinking inward.
The black bone lay just below the navel, inside the dantian. Cold, silent, unmoving. It hadn't offered words, power, or comfort, but when corpse qi had turned on him, it had swallowed part of its hatred, sparing him worse pain. A strange, quiet gratitude stirred in his chest.
Around him, the air tasted faintly of iron and something sweetly rotten. Corpse qi clung there, unseen but real, drifting from the very walls and from the bone lantern itself.
He reached for it, not by pulling sharply, but coaxing, as if drawing water up a thin thread. At first, it resisted, sour and heavy. Then a thin wisp answered, brushing cold across his skin before sinking inward through open pores.
The contact burned immediately: ice along nerves turning to searing heat that bit deeper than flesh, as though into bone. His meridians, fragile, narrow channels meant to carry energy, were not yet corpse veins. Corpse qi fought them, scraping like rusted iron dragged through fresh wounds.
Gu Muye clenched his teeth, breath shuddering. His chest tightened under the rising pain.
Slow. Don't rush.
The thought felt like his own, shaped by memory and experience.
The corpse qi twisted, a flicker of hate blooming within it. For a heartbeat, pain flared sharp enough to blind him, as though knives were carving paths under his ribs.
The black bone stirred, silent as grave earth. Part of the corpse qi's hatred sank into it, devoured without sound. The flare dulled, the pain easing by a breath.
But the corpse qi slipped free of his control, scattering before it reached the dantian.
His vision cleared, breath ragged and wet in his throat. Sweat ran down his face, chilling quickly. His meridians still burned faintly, as if thin cuts traced their lengths.
Failure, but closer than yesterday.
Outside, the faint scuff of sandals on stone drew nearer. Zhou Min's round face appeared in the doorway, worry creasing his brow. "You all right?" he asked, voice low.
Gu Muye swallowed. "Didn't get it all the way. But it reached farther than before."
Zhou Min exhaled, relief softening his features. "That's something, then. Just don't bleed yourself dry trying."
"I know," Gu Muye said, forcing the corners of his mouth up. The small movement felt strange, but real.
They stood there, silent under the guttering green lantern. The cold seeped through robes and skin, into breath and bone.
"I remember when we first came," Gu Muye murmured, gaze lowering to the cracked stone floor. "We promised we'd survive these six years."
"And we will," Zhou Min said, voice firmer than it had been. "Doesn't matter what they throw at us."
Gu Muye lifted his head, meeting his friend's eyes. The warmth he felt wasn't just a leftover from another soul. It was part of him now, memories had been woven together.
"I know," he said softly.
Zhou Min stepped back toward his own abode, the moss-dotted stones whispering underfoot. "Rest a bit before trying again," he called, voice roughened by the cold. "I'll be here."
Gu Muye nodded, watching until Zhou Min's shadow slipped beyond the lantern's reach.
He sat back on the straw, breath slowing, the air heavy with corpse qi's silent presence. Fear stayed in his chest, cold and tight. But under it, something steadier burned.
I must live.
For myself… and for him too.
Outside, bone lanterns flickered, shadows crawling across the courtyard stones. Gu Muye closed his eyes, feeling the black bone's unmoving chill deep in his dantian.
Tomorrow, he would try again.