Night fell quickly.
Wan Ze and Miss Ling kept in contact, exchanging a sentence or two to confirm the situation.
He waited until late into the night when the lights on the ship gradually went out. Then, he silently crossed the corridor and crept to the door of her cabin.
The door was ajar.
He pushed it open gently, slipped inside, and pulled the door shut behind him.
The lights were off inside. Only the moonlight filtered through the window, thin and gauzy, like a layer of silk spread across the floor.
The woman stood by the window, having already changed her clothes.
She had clearly bathed before Wan Ze’s arrival. Her hair, still slightly damp, was draped over her shoulders, and she wore a plain white inner robe.
Clean. Simple.
This was a stark contrast to her usual languid and alluring demeanor.
As Wan Ze approached, he could smell a faint fragrance from her.
"You’re here." The woman spoke, gesturing for him to sit first.
Wan Ze nodded, walked to the table, and sat down, watching her quietly.
The woman then walked to the other side of the table and began to wash her hands.
Wan Ze watched intently. The woman washed her hands very thoroughly, even using a handkerchief to dry each finger, from palm to tip and back again.
Her movements were slow and deliberate.
Then, facing east, she closed her eyes for a moment and softly chanted a few words that sounded like an invocation.
Only then did she pick up the stick of incense.
The woman didn’t rush to light it. First, she held the incense in both palms, raised it to the level of her brow, and prayed silently for another moment.
Then she lit the tip.
The flame took hold, and the tip glowed red.
"TSSS!"
The incense was lit.
A wisp of blue smoke curled upward.
The woman placed the incense into a small bronze censer on the table, retreated to the edge of the bed, and sat down cross-legged.
That peculiar fragrance began to spread.
Wan Ze’s nose twitched. It wasn’t the usual scent of sandalwood or agarwood; it was very unique.
The cool, strange scent drilled into his nostrils and seemed to travel up to the crown of his head.
The woman looked up at Wan Ze, her tone serious. "After I light the incense, I will begin my Cultivation. If you notice anything unusual about me, you must extinguish the incense immediately."
Wan Ze nodded.
"I’m counting on you." The woman took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
Wan Ze sat by the door, completely still.
The only thing moving in the room was that wisp of blue smoke, drifting straight up.
The moonlight on the floor was a silent, white pool.
He stared at the woman’s face.
Her brow was slightly furrowed, her eyelashes casting faint shadows beneath her eyes. It was clear she was trying hard to sense something, to enter some state.
Wan Ze was also trying to determine if the state she was entering was the same as his own.
’If it is, will any special changes appear around her?’
He watched very closely.
His Perception Power was fully released.
But suddenly, a force grabbed his wrist.
’That feeling...’ He had already experienced it twice. He never imagined he would encounter it a third time, especially not now.
An expression of utter disbelief crossed Wan Ze’s face.
His vision blurred.
The next second, he was standing under a blood-red moon.
"...Not again."
Stunned, Wan Ze looked up.
Everything in the room was gone... Miss Ling was gone, and the incense was gone too.
His first instinct was to pull out immediately to protect Miss Ling, but then he remembered... He hadn’t even activated his Spiritual Form. How could he possibly leave?
His expression froze.
The next second, he suddenly realized.
’Wait! This isn’t the ship!’
Wan Ze stood frozen in place.
His mind raced.
’My previous two times descending into this world with my Spiritual Form were tied to my real-world environment. Why is it different this time?’
He couldn’t leave.
And he couldn’t find any sign of Miss Ling.
Wan Ze stood his ground and took a deep breath. The air had a stale smell, a mixture of wood and paper that wasn’t unpleasant, but felt instinctively wrong.
He paused.
’Oh well. Since I’m here, I might as well make the best of it.’
Wan Ze calmed his breathing and finally, slowly, lifted his foot. The sensation underfoot was solid, and his movement created a soft rustling sound.
Feeling the pull of gravity, he began to examine the layout of the room he was in.
Rosewood furniture, ancient Chinese style.
Against the wall was a writing desk, upon which sat a pen rack and an inkstone, all covered in a thick layer of dust.
On the other side was a bookshelf, its compartments strewn with a few scrolls. He couldn’t tell if they were books or paintings.
The window was an old-fashioned propped-open type with a carved lattice, pasted over with paper. The paper had turned yellow and brittle, with holes in several places, and the light filtering through was a dreary gray.
It was as if no one had been here for a very, very long time. Even the air felt stagnant.
Wan Ze’s gaze fell on the wall directly in front of him. A freehand-style ink wash painting hung there. What it depicted was unclear, but he could appreciate the sparse and elegant brushwork.
He stepped forward.
Lost in thought.
Then he reached out his hand.
There was a sensation—cool to the touch.
’!?’ Wan Ze’s heart skipped a beat.
’I can actually use Stealing Celestial Secret!’
He immediately glanced at the data frame.
[Magic Sense +5%]
’Magic Sense!!!!’
In an instant, the blood rushed to his head.
Wan Ze almost thought he was dreaming, but his fingers were still pressed against the painting, and the coolness was undeniable.
His heart was pounding.
Wan Ze smiled.
He found himself starting to like this place.
Even though everything here seemed dilapidated, bizarre, and full of unknowns.
[Magic Sense +5%]
Wan Ze pulled back his hand and scanned the room, then stepped toward the nearest bookshelf.
He ran his hand along the edge of a shelf. Dust coated his fingertips—it felt rough and cold. He tried to open a book on it but found he couldn’t make out the words at all, as if some force were blocking him.
But...
[Magic Sense +2%]
The data in front of him flickered.
Wan Ze was taken aback.
Even though he couldn’t read the words in the book, his Magic Sense had genuinely increased.
He paused, then reached for the nearby pen rack... It was porcelain, and just as cold.
[Magic Sense +5%]
And so, he went around touching everything.
The inkstone, the paperweight, a dust-covered scroll, the bronze censer in the corner of the desk, the porcelain vase on the bookshelf, even the armrest of the grand tutor chair...
He had to touch every single thing he could. Whether these items would yield anything or not, he’d touch them first and find out later!
...
[Magic Sense +3%]
[Magic Sense +2%]
[Magic Sense +4%]
...
Seven items... A cumulative +39% to Magic Sense.
Wan Ze paused, looking at the number, the smile at the corners of his mouth growing wider.
The feeling was strange, as if his sense of touch had been magnified.
He composed himself.
He looked toward the door and window.
First, he walked to the window and tried to push it, but the lattice didn’t budge. Wan Ze applied more Strength, but it still wouldn’t move.
It was as if it had been nailed shut from the outside.
Wan Ze frowned, stepped closer, turned his head, and cautiously peered out through a hole in the window paper.
Outside was dim and gloomy. A willow tree stood in a corner of the courtyard, its branches drooping, swaying slowly in the wind...
Farther away was the shadow of a surrounding wall, dark and heavy, obscuring everything.
The shadow was so thick it seemed impenetrable. Just looking at it sent a chill down his spine.
Wan Ze was silent for a moment, then took a step back.
His instincts told him that it was extremely dangerous outside.
That danger was just like his Martial Dao intuition; a single glance at the outside world had made the hairs on his body stand on end.
That was the feeling he had now.
’This kind of Power is far beyond the Martial Dao...’
Wan Ze scanned his surroundings again.
He took a deep breath.
This place was too much like a dream, yet the sensations were so real.
’What if this isn’t a dream?’
’Does this world... truly have Qi Refiners?’
’This world is clearly different from reality.’
Wan Ze fell into thought.
He didn’t know when he would be able to leave, but he couldn’t just stand here and waste time.
After a moment’s hesitation, he started toward the door.
It was an old-fashioned wooden door with a copper ring pull that had developed a green patina.
He pushed it. It, too, was immovable.
’Fine by me. It doesn’t look safe outside anyway.’
So he began searching the room instead, and sure enough, he found something.
Hidden in the Southwest corner was a small, narrow door, only wide enough to pass through sideways. It was currently ajar, revealing a small crack.
Wan Ze didn’t hesitate and walked over.
The wooden door was old, its paint mottled and peeling. It let out a faint creak as he pushed it open.
After only a brief hesitation, he squeezed through sideways. His movements were light, his feet landing as silently as possible, ever cautious and on guard.
Inside was another room.
Or rather, a corridor.
He noticed murals painted on both walls of the corridor. Holding his breath, he stepped closer to examine them in the faint light. They depicted scenes of mountains and wilderness.
The brushwork was very expressive, the lines fluid, but he couldn’t make out any specific details, just like the words in the books. It was like looking through a layer of mist; nothing was clear.
It was as if some power was deliberately blurring them, preventing them from being seen clearly.
Wan Ze proceeded cautiously down the corridor, but he suddenly stopped, took out a book, and tossed it ahead. Only after confirming there were no traps did he move forward.
Underfoot were dark, patterned tiles, laid flat but covered in dust that rustled with every step.
He walked to the center of the corridor, where his view suddenly opened up. It was a small room, and in its very center stood a lone pine tree.
No, it was a painting.
A lone pine, painted on the wall.
Its branches were gnarled, its posture vigorous. The ink shades were perfectly balanced, and its austere spirit seemed about to burst from the wall, like a tree spirit.
’Is this... a studio?’
Wan Ze saw that many other paintings also hung on the four walls. Some were mounted, others just casually taped up.
An unfinished painting lay spread on a desk, a brush resting beside it, as if the owner had only just stepped away.
Wan Ze’s gaze was quickly drawn to the lone pine.
He hesitated.
He decided to take a gamble.
He walked over involuntarily, reached out his hand, and touched it again.
His fingertip went cold.
That cool sensation returned, clearer than before, as if something was pouring into his body through his fingertip.
Wan Ze didn’t even have time to look at the data frame; he just felt his mind become a little clearer.
[Magic Sense +5% +6% +5% +8%...]
It only stopped after he had absorbed a total of 67%.
Wan Ze was ecstatic.
’This is like a mouse falling into a rice barrel!’
He took a deep breath, pulled back his hand, and began to touch everything in the studio, one by one.
Every painting, every object, brought a small increase.
[Magic Sense +2%]
[Magic Sense +3%]
[Magic Sense +1%]
[Magic Sense +2%]
...
Finally, Wan Ze let out a breath of relief.
He looked at the data frame.
[Magic Sense: 108%]
’I did it!’
Wan Ze’s face was all smiles. He was about to begin his Cultivation when the world before him suddenly trembled and seemed to tear apart.
He was violently thrown back to reality.
He looked around in astonishment.