Chapter Twenty-Four: The Secret Chamber

At dusk, Lei Yan walked alone along the narrow path leading to the Ghost Doctor Sect.

“I have a way to grant you a hundred years of life!” The closer he drew to the sect, the more unsettled Lei Yan’s heart became. Xue Dan’s words still echoed in his mind.

“What exactly is this method?” Lei Yan muttered to himself, unconsciously quickening his pace, his chest rising and falling with each hurried step.

After about an hour, a faint medicinal fragrance drifted from afar, instantly invigorating Lei Yan. He looked up instinctively. Ahead, some hundred meters away, stood several thatched huts arranged in a row. From the chimney of one hut, a wisp of blue smoke curled upward, carrying the very scent of medicine he had detected.

“Ghost Doctor Sect? Could this really be the place?” Lei Yan was dumbfounded. Reason told him that if the Ghost Doctor Sect was a true sect, it should have a proper entrance and some semblance of grandeur, not such a humble headquarters built from straw. Moreover, the area was deserted, eerily quiet, nothing like the bustling sect he had imagined. If he’d been told this was merely a cluster of hunters’ homes, he would have believed it without question.

“I hope that so-called treatment isn’t as shabby as this!” The stark contrast made Lei Yan begin to doubt the cure Xue Dan had mentioned.

“Is anyone here?” Lei Yan called out as he reached the huts.

No answer.

Lei Yan raised his voice and called again, “Excuse me, is anyone here?”

“Don’t tell me there’s really no one…” he grumbled, stepping toward one of the thatched houses.

As Lei Yan pushed open the wooden gate to the yard, a cold wind swept by. He instinctively tightened his cloak around him. Suddenly, an elderly man with silver hair appeared behind him, placing a hand on Lei Yan’s shoulder.

“Young man, who are you looking for?”

“Ah!” Startled, Lei Yan jumped. It’s natural to be frightened when someone suddenly appears behind you, especially when you’re absorbed in thought; it has nothing to do with courage. Lei Yan glared at the old man, steadied his breath, and asked, “Is this the Ghost Doctor Sect?”

“That’s right! This is the Ghost Doctor Sect. If you’re looking for the Ghost Doctor, he’s not here. Who knows when he’ll return?” Without another word, the old man strode toward the huts.

Lei Yan took a jade pendant from his robe and said, “My master said this token would grant me entry to the secret chamber.”

The old man paused, barely glancing at the jade, and replied, “Follow me.”

Though Lei Yan found the old man somewhat strange, he didn’t dwell on it. The most important thing now was to enter the secret chamber and find a cure. He followed the old man inside. The hut was tiny, certainly not the kind of place to conceal a secret chamber. Lei Yan eyed the dry, yellow earth beneath their feet and wondered if the chamber might be underground.

Just then, the old man’s oil lamp slipped from his hand. In a thatched hut, an accident like this could spell disaster in an instant. Lei Yan shouted, “Careful!” and leaped forward, but he was a moment too late. With a muffled thud, the lamp crashed to the ground.

Sparks, fueled by oil, burst forth, and the hut was instantly ablaze. Lei Yan seized the old man’s hand, trying to drag him outside, but the man stood immovable, as if rooted to the spot. As the flames threatened to engulf them, Lei Yan released the old man’s hand—he had no intention of dying for a stranger, not when he still had vengeance to pursue. He had to survive.

Just as Lei Yan turned to flee, the fire vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. All was as it had been before, except the earthen floor had become smooth blue stone.

“Never trust your eyes; trust your heart. Come,” the old man said, tapping the stone floor in a steady rhythm. With a grinding sound, a passage opened in the ground, and the old man led the way down.

“Never trust your eyes; trust your heart!” The words echoed in Lei Yan’s mind as he followed, almost unconsciously, down the steps.

They descended, passed through a narrow corridor, and stopped before a stone door blocking the path. The old man pointed to it. “Beyond this door is the secret chamber. Enter, and see for yourself.”

Lei Yan was still pondering the old man’s words when he looked up and saw that the stone door was entirely sealed, with no sign of a mechanism. He was about to ask how to get inside when he realized the old man had vanished.

“Never trust your eyes; trust your heart.” Lei Yan slowly closed his eyes, understanding that this was a test. If he wished to enter, he must learn to use his heart.

Half an hour passed. Lei Yan stood before the stone door, motionless as a fool.

“Use my heart? But how? Should I just follow my intuition? But I feel nothing at all… Or is it…” Lei Yan struggled with the riddle. Suddenly, an idea came to him: to use his special ability to see. He acted at once. A faint blue glow spread from his brow, weaving a net of light over the stone door.

“So that’s it! ‘Heart’ means spirit!” Lei Yan rejoiced, for he saw four bright yellow points on the door—clearly the switches. He pressed them lightly.

With a series of thunderous rumbles, the stone door opened. Bright light filled Lei Yan’s eyes as a spacious secret chamber appeared before him. It was impeccably tidy: a stone bed, a stone table, several wooden chests in the corners, and shelves lining the walls, each filled with jade pendants marked with various inscriptions.

Lei Yan gazed at the dazzling array, unsure where to begin.

“Since Master said the treatment is also a method for cultivating the ‘Spirit,’ I’ll start there,” he thought. He searched for the appropriate markings.

One by one, he eliminated the pendants until he found one labeled “Spirit Cultivation.” Lei Yan sat cross-legged on the bed, sending a gentle blue glow from his brow into the jade.

At that moment, a short passage echoed in Lei Yan’s mind:

“In this world, the strength of cultivators lies in the power of the Spirit. For a warrior to reach the Innate realm, he must refine essence into energy; to reach the Golden Core stage, he must refine energy into spirit. My meridians are withered, destined never to rival true cultivators. Yet Heaven granted me a method to strengthen the Spirit—a method simple in practice, not reliant on skill, but on iron will and ruthless self-discipline: to break, and then rebuild.

With this, I have been able to contend with Innate warriors, though still no match for true cultivators. But I believe, if my life endures, one day I will break a cultivator’s neck! Yet… I cannot go on… I am unwilling… Deeply unwilling…”

Lei Yan’s body trembled. Though the words gave no direct instructions, they offered a glimmer of hope—a hope of survival. He believed he would find the cultivation path meant for him.