Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: The Bloodstained Account

The search began with a silent urgency. Gù Ti?nháo's room was Spartan, a reflection of his status and the neglect he suffered. There was a hard bed, a simple closet for clothes, a table worn with a chair and some dusty shelves containing basic texts on cultivation - probably given to him out of obligation and never opened by the old Ti?nháo. There weren't many places to hide something. The memories were hazy, fragments of a distant childhood obscured by pain and disease. He vaguely remembered a small, unadorned wooden box, where he kept the few possessions that had any sentimental value - a colorful bird feather found in the garden, a smooth creek stone, and... something else. Something dark, small, given by her mother just before her health worsens dramatically. Ti?nháo (Alex) started with the closet. Simple clothes, some slightly patched. Nothing. He scoured the drawers on the table. Maligned handwriting practice scrolls, a worn brush, an almost dry ink cartridge. Nothing. His gaze swept the room again, frustration beginning to erode his calculated calm. Where would a boy hide his treasures? Under the bed? He knelt down, the pain in his knees protesting, and groped in the dark, dusty space. Spider webs brushed on his fingers. He found a lost shoe, a pile of dust, and finally leaning against the bottom wall, a small simple wooden box. His heart took a leap. Carefully, he pulled the box into the dim light coming in through the window. The wood was worn and dull, the lid slightly plastered. There was no lock. He opened it with trembling fingers. Inside, on a piece of faded fabric, were the items that fragmented memory suggested: the bird feather, now without color and brittle; the creek stone, smooth and grey; and a small dark object, almost lost in the shadow of the box. It was an account, no larger than the nail of his thumb, of an unknown material, black as obsidian, but without any shine. He seemed to absorb the light around him. It was strangely smooth and cold to the touch. He picked her up. There was nothing remarkable about her at first glance. No inscription, no energy fluctuation that he could detect with his near-zero Qi sensitivity. It seemed... ordinary. A bitter disappointment began to form. Maybe it was just a worthless stone after all. A memory of a lost mother and nothing more. He turned it between his fingers, the surface smooth and cold against his skin. Why would your mother give you that? Memories about her were even more fragmented than the others, shrouded in a fog of sadness and illness. She wasn't from Maplewood City, he knew. There were whispers, strange looks when she arrived with the Patriarch. Was she the reason for Ti?nháo's congenital weakness? Or was she something else, something the Gu Family didn't understand or fear? As he pondered, the tip of his finger brushed a small, almost imperceptible burr on the surface of the bead. Acute pain caused him to retreat instinctively. A tiny drop of blood sprouted on his finger. Before he could react, the drop of blood fell on the black bill. For a moment, nothing happened. The bill remained dark and inert. Then, the drop of blood seemed to sink on the surface, disappearing without a trace. The bill vibrated slightly in his hand, an almost subsonic hum that resonated in his bones. A blinding light exploded in his mind. It was not a physical light, but an inner illumination that blinded him to the outside world. He felt an irresistible force pulling his consciousness, tearing it from his physical body and throwing it into a void that was vast and infinite, but strangely different from the darkness of death he had experienced before. When the feeling of disorientation passed, he found himself floating in an immense, hazy space. It was not dark, but filled with a gray, swirling mist that stretched as far as his perception could. The silence was profound, but not empty; it seemed to contain the echo of countless ages. Where... where am I? His voice sounded strange, ethereal, not limited by physical vocal cords. No answer came except for the silent whirlwind of the mist. He tried to move, but there was no body to command, only a floating point of consciousness. Was he the bill, or was he inside it? He focused, trying to extend his perception through the mist. In the distance, or perhaps in another dimension within that space, he could feel presences. Vast, old, asleep. Some seemed benign, others radiated a malice so deep that it made their newly reincarnated soul tremble. They were like distant stars in a night sky, countless and incomprehensible. Then, closer, inside the mist that surrounded him, he began to discern structures. They were like floating islands or platforms suspended in the void, most shrouded in impenetrable darkness or sealed by energy barriers that seemed able to annihilate their consciousness with a simple touch. But one platform was relatively clear, directly in front of him. It looked like a simple pavilion, made of a material that resembled white jade, but pulsed with a soft, internal light. Floating above the pavilion, there were ancient and complex characters that he did not recognize, but whose meaning seemed to flow directly to his mind: Pavilion of the Primordial Legacy - Deadly Level. With one thought, his consciousness drifted towards the pavilion. As he approached, he felt a slight resistance, as if an invisible barrier were testing him. Then she gave in, allowing him in. Inside the pavilion, the air (or whatever went through the air in that place) was incredibly pure and energizing. In the center, on a jade pedestal, floated a single old-looking parchment. He approached, his consciousness focused on the parchment. By touching it, the parchment unfolded in his mind, revealing not written words, but a stream of pure information. Tyrannical Art of Body Refinement of the Demonic Dragon" The name echoed in his mind with a primordial power. It was a cultivation technique focused exclusively on the Kingdom of Body Refinement, but of a depth and brutality that made the basic methods known to the Gu Family seem like child's play. He described methods for aggressively absorbing IQ, using pain as a catalyst for growth, seasoning bones with violent energy, and even creating a rudimentary "Demon Dragon Essential Blood" using the cultivator's own blood and specific IQ. He was powerful. Dangerous. And it seemed to require a lot of resources and a tolerance to pain that bordered on the impossible, especially for someone with a body as fragile as his. Next to the information about the technique, another part of the parchment lit up. It was a pill formula. A simple formula, using relatively common medicinal herbs (although some were still expensive for their current status) to create a pill that could help soften and open blocked meridians. It wasn't a miracle cure, but it was a beginning. That was exactly what he needed. One thought arose: This... is this the Killing Account of Gods and Demons? The name that the original user had mentioned. It seemed appropriate. The power contained in that space, even if 99% of it was sealed or asleep, was terrifying. He looked around the pavilion. There were other alcoves and pedestals, but they were empty or covered by impenetrable mist. It seemed that only the basics of the basics were accessible to him in his current state. I need to get stronger to unlock more. The conclusion was obvious. The Account was an unimaginable treasure, but it was not a charity. It required strength, progress, perhaps even understanding of Dao at later levels, to access his deepest secrets. With the information of the technique and the pill formula firmly engraved in his mind, he felt the connection with space begin to weaken. The force that pulled him out was gentle, but firm. His consciousness was thrown back, and he blinked, gasping, finding himself back in his dark, dusty room, the little black bill still in his hand. She looked exactly the same, cold, smooth, ordinary. But now he knew. She knew the universe of power that resided within her. A slow smile, the first genuine smile since he arrived in this world, spread across his lips. It was a cold smile, full of determination and a hint of savagery. The ancient Gù Ti?nháo was garbage because its meridians were blocked and its body was weak. But now... He had the Tyrannical Art of Body Refinement of the Demon Dragon. He had the formula of the Meridian Opening Pill. He knew of another world and an iron will forged in two lives. The road would be painful. The technique seemed brutal, and gathering the ingredients for the pill would require cunning and resources that he did not currently possess. Secrecy was fundamental; if one found out about the Account, he would be killed and dissected without the slightest hesitation. But for the first time, the hopelessness that threatened to engulf him was replaced by a burning flame of hope. A dangerous hope, wild, but real. He closed his hand around the bill, feeling his familiar coldness. This would be his deepest secret, his foundation, his ultimate weapon. The Gu Family garbage was about to begin its journey. And he would do so with the silent fury of a demon dragon awakening.