Chapter Thirteen: The Taoist Robe

“This is the place.”
The old woman led Cui Xiu to the origin, proceeding with a certain cautiousness that betrayed her apprehension toward this ‘source.’
Cui Xiu turned at her words and glanced at the old woman, his brows knitting slightly. He sensed that her form appeared even more ethereal than before.
But now was not the time to dwell on that. He followed the direction she indicated, and before his eyes lay a shadowy mountain valley.
The valley was hardly broad—only two or three yards wide. Obscured by thick mist, its features were difficult to discern, yet one could faintly see a moss-covered cliff above, damp and slick, as if a stream once flowed there, now dried up.
Aside from that, the little valley was shrouded in darkness. Its modest size belied an unsettling quality, a sense of lurking menace.
With the dense fog swirling around, the entire valley resembled the gaping maw of some monstrous beast, eager to devour.
Seeing this, Cui Xiu tightened his guard, gripping his sword as he prepared to venture within.
“Master Cui, this is truly no kindly place. Perhaps it’s best left alone. That you could guide Little Grass and her brother out is satisfaction enough for me. I dare not wish for more life,” the old woman advised, her tone tinged with sorrow.
Cui Xiu paused to enter, turned back, and smiled, “Rest assured, Granny, I have my own selfish reasons. Perhaps there are things inside that might benefit me. Besides, if danger arises, I can retreat swiftly. It won’t hinder me.”
“Master, you must be careful. Alas, I cannot go inside, so I know not what lies within. Else I would not trouble you to take such a risk,” the old woman replied, her eyelids lowering.
Cui Xiu felt fairly confident, not because he’d fully understood the place, but based on the old woman's explanations and his observations after spending a day here, he judged that the place posed no direct harm to humans.
Regarding Liu Hu’s fate, the old woman had explained—it was mainly due to the gray currents found within the bones.
Thus, the only threats here were ghosts and those gray currents.
Now, with only the old woman’s family left as ghosts—and they meant him no harm—the gray currents were, in fact, beneficial to Cui Xiu.
So he was not only wary, but also somewhat expectant.
The gray currents he’d extracted from the bones had already given him a taste of gain; if he could obtain more source power here at the origin, it would be a stroke of fortune.
Of course, Cui Xiu was aware of his own greed, but at his current stage, he was not yet able to fully master his desires. Facing the potential benefits of source power, he would not forsake this opportunity, even if danger was real.
Moreover, resolving the origin was part of his debt of gratitude.
With both reasons entwined, Cui Xiu had forged himself a powerful excuse, allowing him to momentarily ignore the valley’s possible dangers and seek riches amid risk.

Had it been his previous life, he would never have acted so impulsively. But after more than a month in this new world, he sensed subtle changes in his character.
Whether for better or worse, he could not yet say.
“Granny, please wait here. I shall go inside and see what I find.”
Without further hesitation, Cui Xiu raised his sword and stepped into the valley, vanishing quickly into the mist, leaving only a faint silhouette behind.
As he entered, the old woman, who had been gazing downward, lifted her eyes; a flash of fervor flickered in her gaze, then faded, leaving her eyes deep and inscrutable.
…
From outside, the valley seemed small, yet upon entering, Cui Xiu discovered another realm entirely.
If he were to describe it, the valley was like an overturned bowl—only without a base.
The exit was akin to a crack left in the bowl’s wall after it broke.
Of course, the environment mattered little to him; even if the interior proved more spacious, it would simply mean a few more steps.
With this in mind, Cui Xiu concentrated on exploration.
From the old woman, he’d learned that the densest mist often marked the place where the gray currents in the bones were strongest, and where the mist’s effect on ghost bodies was most pronounced.
Thus, before the ghosts vanished entirely, they all avoided the valley to prolong their existence.
Yet with time, even avoidance ceased to matter.
Cui Xiu pondered this, surveying his surroundings, hoping to find the direction where the mist was thickest, thereby saving effort.
But to his frustration, the valley’s environment made it impossible to discern the density of mist—everywhere was engulfed, direction blurred.
It was a pity the old woman couldn’t enter; she had said that any ghost venturing here vanished, never to return.
Were she able to guide him, finding the way would not be difficult, for her family seemed immune to the mist’s confusion.
Though the situation was less than ideal, Cui Xiu steadied himself, staying vigilant as he explored in all directions.

He did not know how long he wandered; the gray-white mist made it easy to lose track of time.
A sharp “crack!” echoed beneath his feet.
As time passed, Cui Xiu’s nerves grew taut, and his progress differed from his initial expectations.
He’d imagined it would be easy to find the ‘origin,’ yet after much searching, nothing seemed amiss.
Just as frustration set in, a sound rose from beneath his feet.
It was crisp, reminiscent of a branch snapping, but somehow different…
Cui Xiu quickly looked down.
To his surprise, he saw a skeleton.
The bones belonged to an adult, slightly shorter than Cui Xiu—about one meter seventy-five. In this world, especially in Ganzhou, that counted as rather tall.
The skeleton still wore the garments of its former life: a simple gray robe, now tattered.
At the skull rested a black square cap.
The style of the robe was not that of a Daoist monk; many commoners favored such robes, especially scholars.
Cui Xiu realized then the identity of the skeleton’s owner—likely the bold scholar.
He shook his head slightly; the scholar’s fate was not so different from his own, the only distinction being Cui Xiu’s unique ability with gray mist.
Returning his attention, he examined the bones closely. They had a yellow jade-like hue and faint luster, far more refined than the ones he’d collected earlier.
Just from this, Cui Xiu knew the gray currents within would be plentiful.
He crouched to touch them, confirming his guess—the bones were rich with gray currents, and he felt a surge of delight.
Yet he did not rush to absorb them, preferring to observe more thoroughly.
Soon, he noticed something amiss.