Chapter 10: Restoration

Qin Yue had watched countless survival shows in the past and always thought he could do just as well.

But when the day finally came, he was struck by the sudden realization that surviving in the seemingly picturesque wilderness was far from simple.

Even as an accomplished young cultivator, he found himself beset by all manner of unexpected difficulties.

Something as ordinary as diarrhea could prove fatal.

And at this very moment, he was suffering from it.

...

His master had repeatedly stressed the need to tan his skin first. So, Qin Yue found a sun-drenched, wind-sheltered cliff by the seaside.

With his bare hands, he dug a cave large enough to shelter him in the slightly weathered but not-too-hard rock face.

Then, he dove straight into the sea to catch seafood.

He hauled in snails bigger than a human head, hordes of lobsters, and groupers weighing twenty or thirty pounds—a bountiful harvest in a short time.

While extracting snail meat, he even discovered several plump, lustrous blue pearls inside.

Excited, Qin Yue treated himself to a feast of snail and lobster sashimi.

The taste was sweet and delicious—a true delicacy, easily worthy of the title “finest seafood.”

He assumed that, as a cultivator, his digestion would be formidable. Unexpectedly, though his body had grown stronger, it had never encountered such rare fare. His gut flora revolted, and he became a veritable “jet warrior.”

He nearly dehydrated himself.

It was a vivid lesson from the beautiful yet perilous wilderness of this world.

Fortunately, after half a day’s rest, his spirits recovered. Not daring to be reckless again, he obediently gathered dry wood, fashioned a simple grill from stones and slabs, and cooked his food before eating.

So passed several days. Yet, looking at his skin, still shockingly pale, Qin Yue finally understood why, even when they escaped, people from the Ice Abyss were so easily recognized.

The ultraviolet rays here were so intense that he could have lain on the beach all day and still not tanned.

At this rate, he doubted his skin would change within even a month or two.

Resolute, he packed his clothes into a bundle made of icefield mouse hide, and, along the coastline, set off southward, naked as a savage.

He traveled by day, running wild and free; by night, he cultivated, devotedly studying various arts. When tired, he foraged by the sea. Life was far from dull.

In the process, he discovered another significant secret—

The Bronze Giant Rat World could “restore” things!

This had actually begun with the “Northern Ocean Swallowing Breath Technique,” though he hadn’t realized it then.

With the “Falling Leaf Sword Technique,” he noticed something odd.

After thoroughly studying and memorizing the sword technique’s circulation formulas, he entered the Bronze Giant Rat World and saw a human figure in a corner of the chaos.

If the space weren’t so “empty,” with only the giant rat coiled at the center and the fish in the corner, Qin Yue might never have noticed its presence.

It was simply too minuscule!

Compared to the rat, or even the fish, it was like a speck of dust.

But the instant his gaze fixed on it, his consciousness drew close, and perception became “normal”—though the fish and the bronze rat could no longer be seen in their entirety.

This sensation, which had never occurred when the fish first appeared, was novel and mysterious.

Qin Yue experimented repeatedly and found that when his focus shifted to observing the rat or the fish, perception instantly returned to its original scale and the human figure shrank away again.

This figure remained motionless when unobserved, but once watched—when his consciousness drew near—it immediately began to perform the sword technique.

The reason he believed the Giant Rat World could “restore” was because, as this indistinct figure demonstrated the sword technique, he faintly experienced the feeling unique to the “Giant Rat Slapping the Sky”!

Though the disparity in level was immense—worlds apart—the energy and spirit in the sword aura’s trajectory was not merely a sword technique, but more like a true sword path!

Yet the demonstration was incomplete.

The sword technique contained twelve forms, each concealing countless variations, but the indistinct figure only performed the first form.

A dozen days later, when Qin Yue’s dantian energy broke through a threshold and entered a new realm, that night, the shadowy figure in his spiritual world managed to demonstrate half of the second form.

From this, Qin Yue surmised that “restoration” required energy—the spiritual energy he drew into his sea of consciousness during cultivation was likely the power source!

As his cultivation advanced, not only was the “Falling Leaf Sword Technique” gradually restored from a mere technique to something resembling the “Falling Leaf Sword Scripture,” even the fish from the “Northern Ocean Swallowing Breath Technique” also changed, though so subtly it was barely noticeable.

As for Netherworld Escape and Stealing Heaven and Earth—techniques originating from the Giant Rat World itself—they required no restoration and consumed no energy.

The killing techniques his master had taught him were, in essence, combat methods distilled by martial artists of the mundane world.

Even if restored, they required little energy, so the bronze roulette’s energy had been sufficient early on, and he never noticed this ability.

Upon discovering the bronze roulette’s power, Qin Yue was both stunned and elated.

Killing techniques could be perfected and made flawless; ordinary spells mastered by outer disciples of the Radiant Sun Sect, when in his hands, could be restored into advanced scriptures and become true arts.

Would it be possible, as his cultivation grew, to restore even fragments of lost secret arts and obtain the ultimate laws?

This thought excited Qin Yue immensely.

To be honest, with a mindset so different from this world’s, he realized that following his master’s arrangements would leave success to luck.

No matter what their ancestors had done, for the descendants imprisoned and sealed in the Ice Abyss, regaining freedom was almost impossible!

The world was vast, yet offered no refuge. For generation after generation, there was only oppression, exploitation, and abuse—no alternative path.

Decades of grooming talent was, more than anything, a stubborn refusal to submit.

Qin Yue also faintly guessed why the old madman never let him formally address him as “master.”

His great-grandfather, Qin Qiyuan, was likely one of the young men the old madman had trained in the past!

From his merged memories, Qin Yue knew his great-grandfather died young, not long after marrying, in an accident with no remains, leaving his grandfather a posthumous child.

The family kept this matter hushed, out of respect, claiming he’d tried to escape and froze to death on the icefield.

Had the old madman taken him as a disciple, the generational hierarchy would have been muddled...

He’d asked his master how many people he’d trained over the years, but received no direct answer—only, “It cannot be spoken.”

Qin Yue understood: it was out of caution, not mistrust; for secrecy is success, and a loose tongue invites disaster—better safe than sorry.

So he never asked again.

At parting, his master’s words were filled with care and reluctance, yet tinged with near-hopeless resignation—if all else failed, survive and pass on the Ice Abyss bloodline.

Recalling the last glimpse of the centenarian, standing statue-like by the dark lake...

Thinking of his family and friends’ tearful grief and his clan’s sorrow and helplessness when they learned of his “accidental death.”

And of what Little White sensed as he saw him off, that vague, fleeting impression.

“No matter what becomes of others, I cannot intervene. But I will live well and strive for that path—for perhaps, this is the meaning of my coming to this world,” Qin Yue murmured.

After discovering the secret of the Giant Rat World, he hesitated a long time but finally attempted to restore that unnamed dual cultivation technique.

Perhaps because the technique was not very high-grade, it was easily and thoroughly restored.

To say it bore little resemblance to the original would be an understatement—they were worlds apart!

Previously, it was pure “energy harvesting,” with strict requirements—only a maiden in her first menses would do, making it, in Qin Yue’s eyes, a truly evil technique.

Now, it had become a genuine dual cultivation art, mutually beneficial, capable of both drawing and bestowing energy.

The “art owned the person” had now become “the person owned the art.”

Yet Qin Yue could only mock himself: this place was a forbidden zone for humans, and he was no better than a wild man, roaming naked all day—where could he possibly find a partner for dual cultivation and mutual advancement?

At least for now, this restored and perfected technique was utterly useless to him.

...

With the alternation of day and night, time was easy to track. In the blink of an eye, Qin Yue had been out for a month, covering over a thousand li.

He hadn’t followed the map, instead always hugging the coastline southward, figuring he’d eventually reach inhabited lands.

His slow pace was intentional, to get a tan—but with little effect; he remained pale as ever.

One day, he unrolled the massive, thin beast-hide map his master had given him, and suddenly noticed that three hundred li ahead, an enormous section was marked: “Demon Beast Valley.”

Perhaps the old madman hadn’t expected him to wander instead of staying put to tan, so hadn’t specifically warned him.

Only now did Qin Yue realize that, despite walking the coastline, he’d scarcely encountered any large predators.

It dawned on him: the path from his landing point led directly into Demon Beast Valley—what beast would dare approach?

He was a bit stunned. His master had once described the outside world:

The Divine Continent teemed with sects and clans, the Radiant Sun Sect being the foremost, followed by the ten holy lands dominated by great noble families.

There were a dozen secular nations; the Summer Kingdom was the largest, occupying the center of the continent and acting as the Radiant Sun Sect’s “spokesman” in the mortal realm.

Other nations were backed by major sects or tied to the ten holy lands.

His master had advised: as long as he avoided the Radiant Sun Sect’s sphere of influence, he’d be fine.

“The ten holy lands seem friendly with Radiant Sun Sect, but in truth, it’s all for show. In the same cultivation world, interests are bound to clash and entangle.”

“And besides the human powers, there’s another great force—Demon Beast Valley!”

“Don’t be fooled by the plain name. Demon Beast Valley runs over three thousand li north to south, occupying nearly a third of the mountain range linking to the extreme cold lands!”

“Every time the Radiant Sun Sect collects ice lotus from the Abyss, they fly their spirit-powered boats along the other side, keeping well clear of Demon Beast Valley’s domain.”

“This world is vast; beyond the Divine Continent lie many mysterious regions, some even in alternate planes, accessible only to the truly mighty.”

Remembering his master’s words, Qin Yue now regretted his actions. Like a bird freed from its cage, he’d wandered while cultivating, never considering the consequences. Now, he faced a choice—

Should he cross the mountain range to the other side, following the “seam” below Demon Beast Valley’s weaker area of influence into human lands, or grit his teeth and press onward, taking the shortcut straight through Demon Beast Valley?

His master had said that, by human standards, his current strength made him a formidable young expert—though that was based on him hiding much of his power. Even so, Qin Yue wasn’t sure he could safely traverse Demon Beast Valley.

Gazing at his stubbornly pale skin, he shook his head with some resignation. For safety’s sake, he resolved to cut across the mountains.