**Chapter One: Silas Ashworth**
The Nameless Graveyard!
This was the largest burial ground in the southern part of the empire, with tens of thousands of graves, all belonging to unnamed souls.
A solitary house stood surrounded by these countless graves.
Desolate and bleak!
A figure sat inside the house, eating quietly.
He was entirely shrouded in a cloak, his face hidden, with only a pair of dark, hollow eyes visible, flickering like faint flames.
His hands were the only part of his body exposed, yet even they were covered by thin gloves.
His name was Silas Ashworth. No one knew where he came from. He was the mortician of this vast cemetery.
The door creaked open as several burly men carried three coffins inside.
"Work for you. All died today." Without another word, they hurried away, avoiding Silas as if he were a venomous serpent.
Silas glanced at the food in his bowl—only two mouthfuls left. After a moment's hesitation, he set down his bowl and chopsticks.
Eating could wait. Business came first.
He stepped forward and opened the first coffin. Inside lay a corpse, disheveled and battered.
It was the body of a man, handsome and robust, his face still twisted into a fearsome grimace even in death.
He had died of a stroke during intercourse.
Silas changed into a pair of thin film gloves and meticulously tidied the man's appearance, dressing him in dignified clothing.
After a full hour, Silas had clothed the corpse and applied makeup.
The dead often looked unpleasant, but under Silas's skilled hands, the man's complexion took on a vivid, lifelike appearance.
Once finished, Silas took out a brush.
The brush handle was made of bone, and the bristles—crafted from some unknown material—were completely transparent when not dipped in ink. There were tens of thousands of these bristles, each seeming alive, wriggling on its own, with dreamy, shimmering light flowing within.
He dipped the brush in ink and began to paint with intense focus and solemn dedication.
For an entire hour, Silas painted a portrait of the male corpse.
It was unimaginably lifelike, so vivid that the figure seemed about to step out of the canvas.
Once the portrait was complete—
A beam of light drifted out of the corpse and seeped into Silas's body.
"New ability extracted: Eternal Vigor!"
This man had been a top performer in the pleasure quarters during his life—truly, a master of his craft.
With the portrait done, Silas began to skin the corpse.
The bone brush was sharper than any scalpel, moving with fluid precision, leaving not a single tear or blemish.
This process was called *Painting the Skin*.
Next came dissection and bone removal. Silas worked with swift, practiced efficiency, like a master butcher disassembling an ox. In mere moments, he had extracted a complete skeleton.
This process was called *Painting the Bones*.
Finally, he extracted the tendons, laying them out intact on a sheet of white paper.
The result resembled an exquisite artwork, even carrying a postmodern aesthetic beauty.
This process was called *Painting the Veins*.
With the entire procedure completed—
The bristles of the bone brush suddenly lengthened like ghostly tentacles, burrowing into the skin, flesh, bones, and tendons of the corpse, devouring ravenously.
In an instant, the entire bone brush glowed with a dazzling light.
Once the devouring was complete, the corpse turned directly to ashes.
When the relic at the tip of the bone brush lit up, it signified the successful absorption of three skills.
Ten thousand corpses—to nurture the bone brush's rebirth through nirvana.
Silas walked to the wall and wrote: **9995**.
......
Silas continued preparing the remaining two corpses—one male, one female.
The male corpse appeared to be in his fifties, strikingly handsome yet deeply worn. He had drowned himself in a river, a black dolphin-shaped pendant clutched in his hand.
The female corpse was withered and ancient, like dried wood.
After preparing the middle-aged male corpse and completing his portrait—
Silas extracted the deceased's memories.
A blue light drifted out of the man's brain and seeped into Silas's mind.
What a bizarre memory it was—a tangled tale of love, like an otherworldly *Titanic*, but darker and more tragic.
Human joys and sorrows are never alike. Silas felt no particular attachment.
Next, he prepared the elderly female corpse.
Again, he painted an eerily vivid and lifelike portrait—one that seemed ready to breathe life back into the dead.
Extracting the deceased's skill—
Suddenly—
The elderly woman's forehead split open, as though revealing a third eye.
Eerily unnatural!
The blue light gathering in that eye intensified until it almost turned white.
The condensed light reached its peak, then shot directly into Silas's forehead.
"Ability successfully extracted: Celestial Eye!"
Silas was stunned.
The Celestial Eye—a skill so rare, it was truly one in a hundred million.
Every cultivator who mastered the Third Eye became a treasure of the nation.
Over fifteen years, he had extracted countless skills. Some were extraordinary, others nearly useless—but this one left him truly shaken.
Who was this elderly woman in life? Why would a Third Eye Master die in a place like this?
Compelled to test the ability, Silas activated it.
A burning sensation spread across his forehead. His vision pierced through layers of matter—he could see mineral deposits and skeletons underground, withered trees behind walls, and even a few treasures buried in the backyard. Every substance glowed with a different light, as though viewed through a massive X-ray machine.
This was a Geomantic Master!
**Evening.**
Silas Ashworth wrote **9997** on the wall. Today's work was done.
Then, he sat quietly by the door, as if waiting for something.
Silas had been here for fifteen years.
Every day was spent dealing with corpses. Since his master had left, he had barely spoken to anyone. Everyone avoided him as if he were a vengeful ghost, for his appearance was monstrous.
Only one person was an exception. He was Silas's only friend and confidant.
As the sun set, footsteps sounded outside, along with a familiar, affectionate call.
"Little Brother! Little Brother! Your third brother is here! You must be starving!"
A young nobleman walked in, impossibly handsome and poised. He was an exceptional beauty, even more striking than most women.
He entered and sat directly opposite Silas, handing him a roasted chicken and pouring wine for them both.
This nobleman, dressed in pristine white robes, sat cross-legged on the dirty, blood-stained ground, drinking and eating heartily with Silas.
The two men did not know each other's real names.
Among his siblings, Silas was ranked fifth, and this nobleman was ranked third.
Thus, one was called Third Brother, the other, Fifth Brother.
A pot of wine was finished.
The handsome nobleman was in tears, weeping, "Little Brother, do you know? The woman I love... she married someone else. Not me."
Silas said nothing, only silently offered him more wine.
The handsome nobleman continued, "I loved her for over a decade. For her, I turned my back on my family. For her, I publicly abandoned my new wife at the wedding altar and fled, wandering the world."
"Eight years... I've been away from home for eight whole years. All because she told me she was searching for something." The nobleman broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.
Silas asked, "What thing?"
His voice was like that of a vengeful spirit, as if his throat had been scorched by fire, harsh and grating.
The handsome nobleman said, "A treasure. Something you wouldn't understand."
They continued to drink. The nobleman got drunk, repeatedly calling out the name of his beloved.
"Ellina... Ellina..."
"I abandoned my family's glory and wealth for you. I abandoned my beautiful new wife for you. Why didn't you wait for me? Why did you marry someone else?"
He cried out and wept.
Silas settled him into a room in the back hall, tucked him in, placed a cup of warm water beside him, and cared for him meticulously before leaving.
Third Brother suddenly grabbed Silas's hand, emotional. "Little Brother, all these years, you've eaten with me every day, listened to my complaints. We may not be brothers by blood, but we are closer than real brothers."
For five full years, Third Brother had brought food to Silas every day and stayed with him each night in this desolate graveyard.
They talked about almost everything, as close as brothers.
Silas said, "Everyone who sees me acts as if I'm a monster. Only you, Third Brother, are willing to be near me."
Third Brother said, "The woman I love is married. After I complete the mission she gave me, I'll stay here with you. How does that sound? I don't want my wealthy, prestigious family anymore. Let's just depend on each other here."
Silas patted Third Brother's hand, his voice hoarse. "Sleep, Third Brother. It won't hurt as much when you're asleep."
Third Brother wept silently, his heartbreak a wound that would not heal.
Silas left.
Third Brother fell asleep, murmuring, "Ellina... Ellina..."
.........
Silas staggered, his body hunched, as he opened a hidden door in the ground and descended into the basement to sleep.
Though he was alive, he lived underground, like the dead.
His basement room was small, containing only a chest, a bed, and a mirror.
He lit a candle, and the basement was illuminated.
Silas walked to the mirror, still hunched over, and removed his cloak.
Instantly…
A horrifically ugly and terrifying body was reflected in the mirror.
He had no skin anywhere on his body—only raw, blood-red flesh and tangled blue veins.
He looked like a vengeful ghost.
Such a monstrous being could only live in a burial ground, surrounded by corpses. If he appeared in a village or town, he would likely be beaten to death as a monster.
This was not how he was born. Fifteen years ago, he had been skinned alive and buried in this nameless graveyard.
But for some reason, one night, he who should have been dead suddenly came back to life and clawed his way out of the grave.
The keeper of the Nameless Graveyard at that time was the previous mortician, an old blind man.
Perhaps because his heart had died, or perhaps because he had seen too much of the world, the old man remained calm. He pulled Silas out.
From then on, Silas became his apprentice. The old man taught him how to prepare corpses, carve tombstones, and build coffins.
The master and apprentice depended on each other for ten years, but spoke fewer than three sentences in total.
Five years ago, his master disappeared and never returned.
So, Silas became the new master of the Nameless Graveyard, managing tens of thousands of graves and preparing bodies every day.
The bone brush was passed down to him by his master.
Not long after, the handsome nobleman, Third Brother, arrived and became Silas's closest friend.
In these fifteen years, Silas had prepared 9997 corpses.
He had extracted the soul memories of 4999 people and the skills of 4998.
What kind of skills? Too many to count.
The prodigious, photographic memory of "Idiot Abing," the number one treasure of the Great Xia Empire's intelligence agency.
The miraculous gambling skills of a certain gambler.
There were also locally famous singers, thieves, prostitutes, ruffians, acrobats, and so on.
Of these 4998 skills, most were ones Silas had even forgotten himself and almost never used.
What he valued most were Painting the Bones, Painting the Veins, and Painting the Skin.
**These three skills were the ones capable of defying fate and altering destiny.**
So-called martial talent lies in one's **Bone Root!**
Why do most people progress so slowly in martial arts? Because their Bone Root is inferior.
But once the skill of *Painting the Bones* is mastered, one can paint any Bone Root they desire.
The offensive supremacy of *Soaring Divine Dragon*, the impenetrable defense of *Earthbound Black Tortoise*, the lethal precision of *Lightning Cleft Assassin*—all are top-tier Bone Roots, found in only one in a million.
Not only could he paint Bone Roots for himself, but he could also do so for others, defying fate on their behalf.
What are **Spiritual Veins?**
Alchemy, Yin-Yang arts, formation mastery, painting, calligraphy, music—all spiritual and artistic talents are determined by one's Spiritual Veins.
While a top-tier Bone Root is found in one in a million, a top-tier Spiritual Vein is found in **one in a hundred million.**
Spiritual Veins are the most brilliant radiance of civilization.
Once the skill of *Painting the Veins* is mastered, one can paint the most supreme Spiritual Vein talents in existence.
Not only for oneself, but for others as well.
The pinnacle Veins within the universe: the *Nine Yin Mystic Vein*, the *Nine Yang Mystic Vein*, the *Primordial Chaos Divine Vein*.
As for the *Painting the Skin* skill?!
For Silas Ashworth, it was the **most crucial.**
Mastering this skill would allow him to paint himself a new skin, assume the appearance of a normal man, leave this Nameless Graveyard, return to human society, and fulfill his great purpose.
The Bone Brush required the nourishment of ten thousand corpses to achieve nirvana and rebirth.
In fifteen years, Silas had completed 9997. Only three corpses remained until total success.
Fifteen whole years in this hellish place, neither man nor ghost.
Freedom was only three bodies away.
......