Lin Mu stood where he was, watching Zhou Yuan's figure disappear at the end of the mountain path.
The wind blew past, carrying the chill from beneath the cliff. He looked down at the box in his hand. The pill lay quietly inside, its medicinal fragrance wafting into his nose.
"Host." The trash can's voice came from his robe. "He said you owe him a life. What does that mean?"
Lin Mu didn't answer.
He put the box away and turned back.
All the way home, he thought about Zhou Yuan's words.
Owe him a life.
What had happened between the original owner and Zhou Yuan?
He searched through the original owner's memories but found no clues. In those memories, Zhou Yuan was simply a senior brother who had always been kind to him, from three years ago all the way to now.
But if that were really true, why would Zhou Yuan want to kill him?
Those slow-acting poisons. That black heart. That resentment raised for three years—
None of it made sense.
Back in his room, it was already dark.
Lin Mu lit the oil lamp, placed the box on the table, and stared at it.
"Bro Bin."
"Yeah?"
"If someone raises another person's resentment for three years, what happens?"
The trash can thought for a moment.
"Resentment—that kind of thing starts out ownerless." It said. "When a person dies, their resentment scatters. But if someone deliberately collects and feeds it, it slowly condenses into an independent existence."
"An independent existence?"
"Yeah." The trash can said. "Like that black heart. It's not just resentment anymore. It's a conscious... thing."
Lin Mu frowned.
"You mean that heart has its own awareness?"
"Very likely." The trash can said. "It can look at you. It can sense you. That means it's alive."
Alive.
A heart condensed from resentment, alive.
What did it want?
Lin Mu remembered the way that heart looked at him—though it had no eyes, he could feel something in its gaze.
Not hatred. Not resentment.
More like... waiting.
"Bro Bin."
"Yeah?"
"If that heart is alive, what does it want?"
The trash can was silent for a long time.
"Host, I don't know." It said. "But I do know one thing."
"What?"
"Zhou Yuan raised it for three years—not to kill you." The trash can's voice was very soft. "For something else."
Lin Mu's heart tightened.
"For what?"
"I don't know." The trash can said. "But it's definitely nothing good."
Lin Mu was silent for a moment, then stood up.
"Let's go."
"Where?"
"Find the Fisherman."
At Reflection Cliff, moonlight flowed like water.
Lin Mu followed yesterday's path to where the old man had been fishing.
But no one was there.
Only that rock sat alone at the cliff's edge. The fishing rod was gone. The old man was gone. Only the rock and the wind remained.
Lin Mu walked to the rock and sat down.
"Fisherman?" He called out.
No answer.
Only the wind.
He waited a quarter hour. Half an hour. An hour.
The old man never appeared.
"Host." The trash can said. "He's not coming."
Lin Mu stood up, walked to the cliff's edge, and looked down.
Endless depths, shrouded in mist. Nothing visible.
Suddenly he felt an impulse—to jump down and see.
But he held back.
"Let's go." He said.
As he turned to leave, his foot kicked something.
He looked down. It was a fishing rod.
Tossed behind the rock, hidden by grass. He hadn't noticed it before.
Lin Mu bent down and picked it up.
An ordinary rod, made of bamboo. The handle was worn smooth—clearly used for a long time. The line was still attached, dangling down, swaying gently in the wind.
The Fisherman's rod.
He'd left it here.
Lin Mu stood at the cliff's edge, rod in hand, looking down.
"Bro Bin."
"Yeah?"
"What do you think is down there?"
"I don't know." The trash can said. "But it's definitely no good place."
Lin Mu nodded.
He gathered the rod, slung it over his shoulder, and started back.
After a few steps, he suddenly heard a voice.
Very soft, very distant—as if rising from beneath the cliff.
"Lin Du."
He stopped dead.
"Lin Du."
The voice again.
It was the Fisherman.
Lin Mu ran back to the cliff's edge and looked down.
Nothing.
"Fisherman?"
No response.
"Fisherman!"
Only the wind.
He stood there for a long time, waiting.
The voice never came again.
By the time he got back to his room, it was well past midnight.
Lin Mu leaned the rod against the wall and sat on the edge of his bed.
The oil lamp was nearly spent, its flame flickering, casting his shadow against the wall—now bright, now dim.
He reached into his robe and pulled out the black stone.
Right. The stone was back.
When it had returned, he didn't know. But on the way back from Reflection Cliff, he'd reached into his robe and found it there.
The stone lay quietly in his palm, cool and smooth, reflecting the lamp's flame.
"What are you?" Lin Mu stared at it, murmuring.
The stone didn't answer.
But its surface suddenly brightened.
A faint flash, there and gone—as if reflecting some light.
Lin Mu blinked.
He held the stone up to the lamp.
On its surface, a character appeared.
Not the reversed "Bury." Not "Hide."
A new character.
"Lin."
His surname.
He froze.
"Bro Bin!"
The trash can poked its head out of his robe and leaned in to look.
"This... this just appeared?"
"Yeah." Lin Mu said. "Just now."
He stared at that "Lin" character, his mind racing.
The stone was responding to him?
It knew his surname?
Or—
Did it know who he was?
Lin Mu turned the stone over and over. That "Lin" character stayed in the same place, as if carved there.
But a moment ago, it hadn't been.
"Host." The trash can's voice was tense. "This stone... might really be conscious."
Lin Mu was silent for a moment.
"I know."
He set the stone on the table and stared at it.
The stone lay quietly. That "Lin" character gleamed faintly in the lamplight.
"Who are you?" Lin Mu asked.
The stone didn't answer.
"Are you from my past life?"
The stone brightened.
Lin Mu's heart skipped a beat.
"Do you know who I am?"
The stone brightened again.
"Do you know what that heart Zhou Yuan raised is?"
The stone was silent for a moment.
Then it brightened.
And stayed bright.
Lin Mu stared at it, waiting for more.
But the stone only glowed—no other reaction.
"What's it trying to say?" Lin Mu asked the trash can.
The trash can thought for a moment.
"Maybe it wants to tell you something but can't." It said. "Or maybe it can only answer yes or no."
Lin Mu nodded.
He thought for a moment, then asked another question:
"Is everything the Fisherman said true?"
The stone brightened.
"Am I the reincarnation of the Reincarnation Sovereign?"
The stone brightened.
"Is Bro Bin really the Reincarnation Mirror?"
The stone brightened.
Lin Mu took a deep breath.
"That heart Zhou Yuan raised—is it the resentment from my past life?"
The stone brightened.
"What does he want to do with it?"
The stone was silent for a long time.
Then it went dark.
Completely dark.
Not fading—as if something had covered it. Its surface was pure black, nothing visible.
Lin Mu froze.
"What happened?"
The trash can leaned in to look.
"Host, it... seems scared."
Scared?
What was the stone afraid of?
Lin Mu was about to ask more when he heard footsteps outside the door.
Very soft, but urgent.
He quickly tucked the stone away and looked toward the door.
Knocking.
"Lin Yuan! Lin Yuan!"
Wang Tiezhu's voice.
Lin Mu walked over and opened the door.
Wang Tiezhu stood there, face pale as death, covered in sweat. When he saw Lin Mu, he grabbed his sleeve.
"Lin Yuan, something's happened!"
"What?"
"Zhou Yuan!" Wang Tiezhu gasped. "Zhou Yuan—"
"What about him?"
Wang Tiezhu swallowed hard, his voice trembling:
"He's dead."
Lin Mu's mind went blank.
"What did you say?"
"Zhou Yuan is dead!" Wang Tiezhu said. "Just now—in his room. When they found him, he was already gone!"
Lin Mu stared at him for two seconds.
Then he pushed open the door and ran.
Zhou Yuan's room was surrounded by people.
Enforcement Hall disciples had already arrived, sealing off the scene. Lin Mu pushed through the crowd to the front and looked inside.
Zhou Yuan lay on the floor in the center of the room, eyes wide open, face frozen in terror. His mouth hung open—as if he'd seen something horrifying before he died.
But what stunned Lin Mu wasn't his death.
It was what was above his head.
Nothing.
Both hearts were gone.
The grayish-blue one. The black one. Both vanished.
"Move aside!" Several Enforcement Hall disciples pushed the crowd back. "Disperse! Nothing to see!"
Lin Mu was shoved back a few steps.
He stood in the crowd, staring at Zhou Yuan's body.
Dead?
Just like that?
"Lin Yuan." A voice came from behind.
Lin Mu turned. Lin Zifan stood not far away, looking at him.
"Come with me."
Lin Zifan turned and walked away.
Lin Mu was silent for a second, then followed.
They walked to a quiet spot. Lin Zifan stopped and turned to face him.
"Zhou Yuan is dead." He said.
"I saw."
"Do you know how he died?"
Lin Mu shook his head.
Lin Zifan stared at him for a long time.
"His heart is gone." Lin Zifan said. "Not cut out—vanished."
Lin Mu's heart tightened.
"What do you mean?"
"The coroner examined him. His chest cavity had no heart." Lin Zifan's voice was cold. "But there was no wound on his chest. As if that heart had never existed."
Lin Mu was silent for two seconds.
"What are you trying to say?"
Lin Zifan looked at him, his gaze complicated.
"I'm asking if you had anything to do with this."
Lin Mu met his eyes.
"No."
Lin Zifan stared at him for a long time.
Then he suddenly laughed.
That laugh was cold. Ironic.
"Lin Yuan." He said. "Did you know? Zhou Yuan saw you before he died."
Lin Mu's heart tightened.
"At Reflection Cliff, yesterday evening." Lin Zifan said. "Someone saw you two talking."
Lin Mu was silent for two seconds.
"Yes."
"What did you talk about?"
"He said I owe him a life." Lin Mu said. "That's all."
Lin Zifan blinked.
"Owe him a life?"
"Yes."
Lin Zifan was silent for a long time.
Then he suddenly sighed.
"Lin Yuan." He said. "There are things I didn't want to tell you. But now that Zhou Yuan's dead, I have to."
He walked to a nearby rock and sat down, gesturing for Lin Mu to sit.
Lin Mu sat down and looked at him.
"Three years ago." Lin Zifan began. "The night your dantian shattered—do you remember what happened?"
Lin Mu thought for a moment.
In the original owner's memories, that night he was cultivating. Then a sharp pain. When he woke, his dantian was shattered.
"I don't remember." He said.
Lin Zifan nodded.
"You don't remember. That's normal." He said. "Because that night, someone did something to you."
Lin Mu's heart tightened.
"Who?"
Lin Zifan looked at him.
"Zhou Yuan."
Lin Mu froze.
"Zhou Yuan?"
"Yes." Lin Zifan said. "While you were cultivating, he placed something beside you. That thing absorbed all your spiritual energy, causing your dantian to shatter under the pressure."
He paused.
"That thing was a heart."
Lin Mu's heart skipped a beat.
"Black?"
Lin Zifan blinked.
"How do you know?"
Lin Mu didn't answer.
His mind raced.
Three years ago, Zhou Yuan had used a black heart to harm him?
That heart—was it this one?
"Where did that thing come from?" He asked.
Lin Zifan shook his head.
"I don't know." He said. "All I know is that after Zhou Yuan got it, he changed completely. Before, he was good to you—truly good. But after that heart, he..."
He trailed off.
Lin Mu finished the sentence: "He wanted to kill me?"
Lin Zifan nodded.
"Not just kill you." He said. "He wanted you to die horribly. To suffer before you died."
Lin Mu was silent for a moment.
"If you knew, why didn't you stop him?"
Lin Zifan looked at him, his expression growing complicated.
"Because that heart came for me too." He said.
Lin Mu froze.
"Came for you?"
"Yes." Lin Zifan said. "After Zhou Yuan got that heart, he came to me. He said if I helped him, that heart could help me break through to the Golden Core stage."
He paused.
"I refused."
Lin Mu looked at him.
Looked at the three hearts above his head.
The red one—still steady.
The grayish-blue one—still covered in cracks.
The gold one—still warm and bright.
"But you did nothing." Lin Mu said.
Lin Zifan was silent for two seconds.
"Yes." He said. "I did nothing."
He stood up, looking at Lin Mu.
"Because I knew that heart wouldn't let you go." He said. "No matter what I did, it would find a way to kill you. The only question was how."
Lin Mu's heart tightened.
"What is that heart, really?"
Lin Zifan shook his head.
"I don't know." He said. "But I've been investigating for three years. Found a few clues."
He paused.
"That heart—it wasn't Zhou Yuan's."
Lin Mu knew that, of course.
"It's from my past life." He said.
Lin Zifan blinked.
"How do you know?"
Lin Mu didn't answer.
He just looked at Lin Zifan and asked one question:
"That gold one above your head—what is it?"
Lin Zifan's expression changed.
Grew complicated.
Too complicated for Lin Mu to read.
"That gold one..." Lin Zifan was silent for a long time. "It's what I owe you."
Lin Mu froze.
"What do you mean?"
Lin Zifan didn't answer.
He turned and walked away.
After a few steps, he suddenly stopped.
"Lin Yuan."
"Yeah?"
"Zhou Yuan is dead, but that heart isn't." He said without turning back. "It's just changed places."
Then he was gone.
Lin Mu stood there, frozen for a long time.
Changed places?
Where did that heart go?
He suddenly remembered something.
When Zhou Yuan died, both hearts above his head were gone.
The grayish-blue one—that was Zhou Yuan's own hatred. He died; his hatred scattered. Normal.
But the black one—
That was resentment raised for three years. It had its own awareness. It wouldn't just scatter.
Where did it go?
Lin Mu looked down at his own chest.
Something was beating there.
Not his heart.
Something else.
He reached into his robe and pulled out the black stone.
On the stone, that "Lin" character was gone.
In its place was a new character.
"Heart."
Lin Mu stared at that character, a chill running down his spine.
The stone brightened.
Very faint. Very soft.
As if something inside was laughing.