The silence that followed was eerie—deafening in its stillness. His body was soaked with sweat, his breath unsteady, the pain a dull throb that echoed somewhere deep behind his skull. He didn't know how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? The world outside felt distant, unreachable.
When clarity returned, it did so not as a sudden jolt, but a slow, steady seep—like ink bleeding through fabric. His pulse slowed. His mind sharpened.
And then he understood.
The realization crept in, cool and terrifying.
The technique.
The one he couldn't even read properly before. The one that resisted comprehension like it had a will of its own—it was now inside him. Etched. Embedded. Absorbed.
He hadn't even used it. But he knew.
He had already learned it.
Yanwei exhaled a shaky breath, leaning against the cold surface behind him. His limbs still trembled, his spine ached from the strain—but his mind was painfully awake.
"Fuck," he muttered, dragging a hand across his face. "I don't know if I'm lucky… or just cursed."
His eyes fell to the necklace lying against his chest, its glow now faded—muted, but not dormant. It wasn't subtle anymore. Even a fool could put two and two together.
The connection was obvious.
Chaotic as it looked, messy as it seemed—this artifact wasn't just some odd trinket plucked from a corpse.
Whatever happened… it started here.
Yanwei's gaze deepened, his voice low and dry, almost bitter.
"The book I got… one of the Three Supreme Laws—it's about Space."
His fingers curled slowly around the crude necklace, lifting it into the pale light.
"And this necklace… even looking like this… is definitely connected to the Law of Space."
Yanwei stared at the dimly glowing necklace, his brows furrowed, mind still rattled from the storm that had just passed.
"It seems like I still need to figure out what this necklace really is," he muttered, voice roughened by fatigue and confusion.
He tilted it, letting the light catch on its jagged edges. Crude. Unrefined. It didn't look like anything special. But clearly, it was.
He searched his memories—traced back every fight, every corpse he'd looted, every relic he'd cataloged since the day he first started cultivating. His mind scoured years in seconds. Nothing came.
No memory. No mention. No match.
"Never seen anything like this," he muttered, eyes narrowing.
He let the necklace fall gently against his chest and straightened, despite the soreness in his bones.
"Seems like I'll have to visit the sect library after I leave this place," he said, more to himself than anything. "Maybe there's something buried in those old scrolls."
His gaze dropped again to the artifact. A pulse of thought echoed behind his eyes—quiet, but clear.
"Even though I've already learned the contents of that book… I've never once learned a single thing about the Law of Space," he murmured. "Not even the basics. Not even fragments. It's too rare."
He paused.
"Back then… when I gave up on finding the Three Supreme Books… I also gave up on believing in the Supreme Laws themselves."
His voice was quieter now—not broken, but tired. And under that fatigue, something flickered: wariness… and the slow kindling of purpose.
"The secret realm's about to close," Yanwei muttered, voice hoarse. "I have to leave right away… unless I want to rot in here like a fool."
He pushed himself up with a grunt, brushing dirt from his hands as he staggered to his feet. His robes clung to his body—torn, caked in dried blood and ash. Every muscle ached, every step felt heavier than the last, but he forced himself forward. He didn't have the luxury of resting.
Just as he adjusted his footing, something dark caught his eye on the ground ahead.
It wasn't part of the terrain.
Nestled between cracked earth and broken roots, a strange black object lay half-buried—out of place, almost like it had been dropped there on purpose.
Yanwei frowned, wiping the sweat from his brow as he stepped closer.
Yanwei knelt down, brushing the dirt aside with one hand. The soil gave way easily, revealing something soft beneath—not stone, not metal.
Fur.
His brows drew together as he cleared more of the earth. Slowly, the shape emerged.
A black cat.
It lay there curled in on itself, breath shallow and body trembling, its silky coat marred by blood and grime. One of its hind legs was twisted at a wrong angle, and a thin trail of blood clung to its whiskers. But its eyes—half-lidded and dim—still flicked toward him, defiant in their pain.
Yanwei blinked, a breath escaping through his nose. "A cat?" he muttered. "In a place like this?"
He was surprised… but not truly surprised. The secret realm always had its share of strange phenomena. Still, he hadn't expected a living creature to survive this long, especially something so small, so fragile.
And yet… it had.
"It looks like it's about to die, huh," Yanwei muttered, crouching lower. His fingers moved with care, brushing aside the rest of the dirt.
The cat gave a weak mewl, more breath than sound.
Then, with a quiet chuckle, he reached into his inner robe and pulled out a modest roll of bandages—tucked between a few dried herbs and crushed pills.
"You're lucky I'm always carrying bandages, little guy," he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Might seem useless for a cultivator, but… you never know when they might come in handy."
With surprising gentleness, he began tending to the cat's wounds. His hands, once soaked in blood from battles and beatings, moved carefully—measured, as if afraid the creature might crumble beneath his touch.
If anyone who knew Yanwei saw him like this, they'd be speechless.
The number one demon of the current generation… nursing a near-dead cat?
Not a rare beast. Not a hidden treasure. Not even a spiritual creature.
Just… a cat.
"Hmm… I think this is enough," Yanwei said, tying the last strip of bandage snug around the cat's hind leg.
As if responding, the cat let out a low, rasping sound—a weak purr, or perhaps a groan of pain. Its eyelids fluttered, barely holding on to consciousness.
Yanwei glanced at it, then smiled faintly.
"You should take a rest inside my space," he murmured, lifting the frail creature with care. "As for staying alive…"
He paused, his voice growing softer.
"Well, that's up to your fate. This is as far as I can help you."