2: Chapter 2 The Dead in the Cave

The path deep in the mountains was not easy to walk.

To call it a path was an exaggeration; in reality, there was no path at all. The trees were so dense that even light could not penetrate, and the ground was covered in rotting leaves that felt soft and squishy underfoot, as if stepping on the corpse of some creature.

Lu Chen gripped his firewood blade, hacking at the branches blocking his way as he walked.

He hadn't eaten breakfast, and his stomach was growling, but he didn't stop. The stone in his hand was still there; its color had faded a little more since the morning, and the patterns on it were even fainter. He didn't know what this meant, only that he had to find that old man as soon as possible.

After walking for about an hour, the forest suddenly grew denser.

It didn't gradually thicken; it was sudden. It was as if someone had drawn a line on the ground; on this side of the line was a sparse forest, while on the other side was an impenetrable thicket.

Lu Chen stopped and looked around.

A mark was carved into a tree trunk—an arrow pointing deep into the thicket.

The carving was old and covered in moss, but the direction was clear.

"Did the hunter Wang leave this?" Lu Chen guessed.

He bent over and crawled into the thicket.

Branches whipped against his face, stinging sharply. He gritted his teeth and pushed forward; his clothes were torn in several places, his arms were covered in red marks, and one deep cut had already begun to ooze blood.

After crawling for about the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, the thicket suddenly disappeared.

Before him was The Cave.

The entrance was small, only large enough for one person to bend and enter, and the edges were overgrown with weeds that almost completely obscured half of it. If one hadn't walked close to look, it would have been impossible to find.

A damp, musty smell drifted out from The Cave, mixed with the fishy scent of moss.

Lu Chen crouched down and peered into The Cave.

It was dark; he couldn't see anything.

He pulled a fire starter from his bosom, blew on it twice, and a flame flared up.

The light shone into The Cave, revealing damp walls that felt ice-cold to the touch, covered in slimy moss. There were footprints on the ground—not animal tracks, but human ones. The footprints were messy; at least four or five people had been here.

Lu Chen bent over and crawled inside.

The Cave wasn't deep; after walking a dozen steps, he reached the end. The bottom of The Cave was wider than the entrance, about two zhang square, allowing him to stand up straight.

The light from the fire starter illuminated The Cave walls.

Lu Chen saw writing.

It wasn't carved, but written with something, a dark red that had dried long ago. The strokes of some characters were trembling, and they became increasingly crooked toward the end, as if the person writing them had no strength left.

He leaned in to look closer.

"There is no eternal life in this world."

The first line of text.

Lu Chen stared at it for three seconds.

He didn't move.

He continued reading.

"I have searched for thirty years and found the truth. The truth is—eternal life is a lie. No one has ever truly attained eternal life. Those legendary Immortals are either dead, mad, or have turned into things that are no longer human."

"If you see these words, stop looking. Go back, farm the land, take a wife, have children, and live out the rest of your life properly."

"Do not Cultivate."

"Do—not—Cultivate."

The last three characters were especially large and written with great force, as if carved in. When writing the last stroke of the character "Cultivate," the stroke dragged on, trailing crookedly downward.

Lu Chen stood at the bottom of The Cave, holding up the fire starter, and read these words from beginning to end three times.

Then he turned around and looked at the other side of The Cave wall.

There was writing on the other side too, but it was different. The writing here was very neat and orderly, with clear punctuation, as if someone had written it slowly, not being careless with a single stroke.

"Wang Qishan, from Qingniu Town, Qi Refining Level 3, Lifespan of 123 years."

"Died of—I don't know how I died. My cultivation is regressing, regressing every day. Yesterday I was still at Level 3, today only Level 2 remains. My memories are also fading; I can't remember what my mother looks like."

"There is something wrong with this mountain. The whole place is wrong."

"If you can see these words, run."

Two passages.

Written by two different people.

The first person said "Do not Cultivate," the second person said "Run."

Lu Chen raised the fire starter a little higher, shining the light toward The Cave ceiling.

There was writing on the ceiling too, but he couldn't see it clearly; it was too high. He stood on tiptoe, but still couldn't see it clearly.

Just then, he heard movement behind him.

Footsteps.

Not animal footsteps, but human. Very light and steady, as if intentionally quieted, but still making a rustling sound as they stepped on the fallen leaves.

Lu Chen didn't turn around; his hand slowly reached for the firewood blade at his waist.

"Don't be nervous, it's me."

The old man's voice.

Lu Chen turned his head.

The old man stood at the entrance of The Cave, holding a wine gourd, pouring wine into his mouth. His tattered clothes were even more shredded from the bushes, and leaves were stuck in his hair, but his eyes were still as bright—not the eyes of an old man, but as if a young man's eyes had been placed on the old man's face.

"You've come." The old man put down the wine gourd and wiped his mouth. "A day faster than I expected."

"Who wrote these words?" Lu Chen asked.

"Wang Qishan, and—" The old man paused. "Someone else."

"Who is the other person?"

"You don't need to know."

Lu Chen stared at the old man for a few seconds.

The old man didn't look away, nor did he explain.

Lu Chen turned back to continue looking at the words on The Cave ceiling.

"What is written up there?"

"If you can't see it clearly, don't bother looking," the old man said. "It's nothing good anyway."

Lu Chen ignored him, moved a stone to stand on, and stood on tiptoe again. This time he could see it clearly.

There were only four characters on The Cave ceiling.

"Eternal life is death."

The characters were large, every stroke carved very deeply, as if someone had used their last ounce of strength, clawing at the stone with their fingers, carving it stroke by stroke. There was dried blood in some of the strokes.

Lu Chen jumped down from the stone and brushed the dust off his hands.

"So your stone was a lie?" he asked.

"The stone was no lie," the old man said. "That stone is real. What did you dream of?"

"Eternal life. The price."

The old man's expression changed.

It wasn't surprise, but something more complex—as if he had confirmed something, and yet also felt disappointment. Those two emotions mixed together, making his face suddenly look ten years older.

"You heard 'the price'?" the old man asked.

"I heard it, but it didn't finish."

The old man was silent for a few seconds, then sighed. The sigh was long, as if he had waited a long time for the chance to let it out.

"Do you know why it didn't finish?"

Lu Chen shook his head.

"Because what 'the price' is, is different for everyone," the old man said, walking to The Cave wall and reaching out to touch the characters, his fingertips tracing the strokes. "Wang Qishan's price was his memory and cultivation. The other person's price… was heavier."

"How heavy a price?"

"So heavy that he chose to die in The Cave rather than leave."

Lu Chen didn't speak.

He thought of the four characters on the ceiling—Eternal life is death.

He also remembered what Wang Qishan wrote: "Do not Cultivate."

And what that unknown person wrote: "Run."

"So," Lu Chen said, "there is no such thing as eternal life?"

"There is," the old man said. "But there is a price. And the price is more unbearable than death."

"Then why did you let me come?"

"Because you can hear 'the price'," the old man turned and looked at him. "Wang Qishan couldn't hear it, and the other one couldn't either. They only heard 'eternal life' and didn't hear 'the price.' You can hear it, which means you are different from them."

"How am I different?"

"You have no 'wishful thinking' in your heart."

When the old man said this, his eyes stared straight at Lu Chen, as if looking at a rare object—a broken jar, but one whose shards could still be put back together and used.

"Most people want eternal life because they think the price won't fall on them. So they don't hear 'the price'; their ears automatically filter it out. You can hear it, which means you know the price must exist, and you are still thinking—is it worth it?"

Lu Chen was silent for a long time.

The fire starter was almost burnt out, the light flickering, casting swaying shadows on The Cave walls. The words on the walls swayed along with it, as if they had come alive and were twisting on the wall.

"Is it worth it?" the old man asked again.

"I don't know," Lu Chen said. "But I am already on the path."

The old man laughed.

This time it wasn't that "hehe" laugh from before, but a very light laugh, like a sigh—a little lighter than a sigh, but heavier than a laugh.

"Good," the old man said. "Then I will tell you the truth."

He walked to the deepest part of The Cave wall and tapped on it three times.

The wall was hollow.

He tapped three more times, this time with force.

The wall cracked open.

It wasn't the stone cracking, but a thin layer of stone skin splitting open to reveal a recess behind it. In the recess lay a bamboo scroll, very old, with tattered edges and covered in a layer of dust. The old man blew off the dust and took the bamboo scroll out.

"This is Wang Qishan's cultivation insights. It took him seven years to go from Level 1 Qi Refining to Level 3. It records all his experience: how to perform Guiding Qi into the Body, how to open the Meridians, and how to avoid the pitfalls in Cultivating."

Lu Chen took the bamboo scroll.

The bamboo scroll was heavier than he thought. Not the physical weight—how heavy could a piece of bamboo be?—but what this thing signified: trouble. If he took it, he had to Cultivate. If he Cultivated, he might end up like Wang Qishan, dead in The Cave.

"You want me to Cultivate?"

"If you want eternal life, you must first Cultivate," the old man said. "But I must warn you—Wang Qishan Cultivated for seven years, reached Qi Refining Level 3, and then died. Before he died, his cultivation regressed back to Level 1 Qi Refining, and he lost most of his memories."

"How do you know all this?"

"Because—" the old man paused, "I buried him."

Lu Chen looked at the old man.

The old man didn't look away.

"Are you a Cultivator?"

"I used to be."

"What was your cultivation level?"

The old man didn't answer.

He took the fire starter from Lu Chen's hand and blew it out. The Cave was plunged into darkness.

"It's dark now; you should go back," the old man's voice came from the darkness. "Take the bamboo scroll back and read it, and come back tomorrow. I will still be here waiting for you."

"I still don't know your name."

"There is no need to know," the old man said. "Just call me Mo Wen. Ask no questions about my background, ask no questions about my cultivation, ask no questions about right or wrong."

Lu Chen stood in the darkness for a few seconds.

Then he turned and walked toward the entrance of The Cave.

When he bent over and crawled out of The Cave, the sunlight stung his eyes. He squinted at the sky; the sun was already past its zenith, and sunlight leaked through the gaps in the trees, painting patches of light on the ground.

He had stayed in The Cave for at least two hours.

The bamboo scroll was still in his hand.

He stood there for a while, thinking about a question: What if he didn't come back tomorrow?

The answer came quickly—go back to the village, continue chopping firewood, live to seventy or eighty, and rot in the ground.

He didn't want that answer.

Lu Chen tucked the bamboo scroll into his bosom, placed it with the stone, and then walked down the mountain.

After walking for a while, he looked back.

The entrance of The Cave was already covered by bushes; he couldn't see anything.

The old man—Mo Wen—was still inside.

But Lu Chen didn't care. Whether Mo Wen was in The Cave or not had nothing to do with him. What mattered was that the bamboo scroll was in his hand and the stone was in his bosom.

Worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

He turned around and walked down the mountain.

In The Cave behind him, deep in the recess where the bamboo scroll had been taken, something was revealed—

A section of a finger bone.

A character was carved onto the bone.

If Lu Chen were still there, he would recognize that the character had the same meaning as the voice he heard in his dream.

"Repay."