Chapter 2: The Fate Chart of the Waning Year

Qin Yue was irresistibly drawn in, staring in astonishment, not yet aware that he was within a dream. He was still pondering: Only this one is illuminated—could it be related to the bronze rat head I saw in the exhibition hall?

But in the next instant, his mind was completely absorbed, unable to turn his spiritual gaze away.

He didn't know that this state was called "contemplation."

As he delved deeper into contemplation, time seemed suspended. Suddenly, in the spiritual world, a blood-red moon rose, casting a sinister crimson light.

It seemed to resonate mysteriously with the bronze disc, from which threads of blood-red light flowed, winding into the mysterious patterns etched within the disc.

Along the lines of the twelve zodiac animals, the blood threads slithered as if alive, finally converging at the rat’s head, which became shrouded in crimson, reflecting the blood moon in the "sky" above.

The rat head, with its simple, archaic lines, abruptly opened its eyes!

Just as he had seen in the exhibition hall, Qin Yue felt his scalp tingle as if about to burst, yet he remained deeply captivated, unable to look away.

The wonders of the spiritual world were profoundly mysterious, absurd, and bizarre!

Within the pupils of the rat head, he saw the reflection of the Netherworld, a cold and desolate landscape.

Click—

From deep within his chest came the crisp sound of gears turning, and his consciousness was yanked by a tremendous force, pulling him into a mysterious space.

The scene before him transformed into a gray, primordial world at the dawn of chaos, with a colossal bronze rat coiled at its center.

Its whiskers, sharp as steel whips, slashed through the void; each step of its claws left pitch-black fissures, exuding an indescribable, unique aura.

Dreamlike and unreal, Qin Yue was utterly stunned.

“Kun Dun belongs to the yin, master of the underworld’s path…” In a daze, an ancient and majestic voice suddenly echoed through his mind.

The giant rat opened its mouth, spewing forth a haze of black mist. Each droplet of mist reflected the myriad states of the human world.

A filial son weeping at a grave as the mist formed a passage to the underworld; a villain plummeting from a cliff as the mist turned into a swarm of rats gnawing at his soul; a person radiating seven-colored light, worshipped by the rats…

Qin Yue was amazed—could this be a depiction of the Rat Master ruling the Netherworld?

“Kun Dun”—was this referring to the rat of the zodiac?

As he pondered, a slight sting pricked at his eyes, and the giant rat at the heart of chaos vanished with a ripple, like a mirage.

He was “pushed out” from that dream-within-a-dream. Before him again appeared the bronze disc; the blood moon and the crimson shroud over the rat’s head had vanished.

Such a wondrous experience finally made Qin Yue realize this was not reality, but a dream!

Before he could reflect, a scripture surfaced in his mind—

“Netherworld Escape Technique”

It was more a coherent sequence of diagrams than a scripture—first appearing as words, then transforming.

With a shift of thought, a series of “animations” unfolded in his spiritual world.

Combined with the movements he had just witnessed from the bronze giant rat, even knowing this was a dream, Qin Yue instinctively began to imitate the animated patterns, learning their motions.

It was as if he himself became a rat, the process fluid and unimpeded, drawing him deep into the sensation, as though he possessed the spiritual rat’s abilities from the diagrams.

He did not know that at the instant the bronze disc in his spiritual world activated, an invisible energy surged upward from the icy abyss, piercing through the thick ice cap and soaring into the heavens!

Meanwhile, above the ten sacred grounds and the Zhaoyang Sect in the outside world, the sky was suddenly thrown into turmoil—black clouds rolled in like ink, plunging the land into pitch darkness.

Within the clouds, the shadow of a giant rat emerged, resembling a beast of ancient legend, roaring in rage, clawing at the sky, gaping its maw toward the heavens.

Endless bolts of lightning struck at the phantom, as if the heavens themselves were furious!

Such a terrifying omen left people dumbstruck and trembling, unable to fathom what was happening.

Deep within the catacombs of the Zhaoyang Sect, a middle-aged man meditating with closed eyes disappeared in an instant.

The next moment, he appeared at the highest point of the main hall, his eyes like lightning, staring directly at the giant rat’s shadow dominating the sky, his expression drastically changed.

Figures radiating immense auras appeared in the air, as if teleporting, and quickly assembled at his side.

All were silent, faces grave, gazing upward until the vision faded, then turning to the middle-aged man.

“Sect Master, what happened?” someone asked.

“What was that… It looked a bit like a rat?” someone muttered fearfully.

They said “like” only because the apparition was so enormous and fierce, no one dared assert its nature.

The middle-aged man shook his head, his face dark as water. “Such a startling omen, provoking heaven’s wrath—go consult the ancient texts immediately and see if there’s any record.”

The others swiftly departed, leaving the man standing with hands clasped behind his back, brows furrowed, his eyes full of worry.

He murmured, “A dire portent from the heavens—calamity is near!”

...

“Little Five, come eat.”

It was only Qin Xin’s gentle voice that finally drew Qin Yue back from his wondrous spiritual world.

He opened his eyes in confusion, seeing his fourth sister’s pale but caring face in the darkness. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not long, just a little while. If you’re still tired, eat first and then sleep. You mustn’t go hungry,” Qin Xin said softly.

Just a little while?

Qin Yue felt as though he’d spent ages in that strange and fantastic dream.

At that moment, voices from outside drifted in—

“We ran into Sister Ye Yu on the way back. She said Fifth Brother fainted while working in the fields.”

“Fifth Brother’s health is weak—he needs some nourishment…”

It was Sixth Sister Qin Zi and Third Brother Qin Hui.

Qin Yue got up and walked out with his fourth sister, greeting the two who had just returned. “Third Brother, Sixth Sister.”

“Are you alright?” Qin Hui looked him over, and Qin Zi’s eyes were also full of concern.

Qin Yue shook his head.

Qin Xin said, “I picked some wild greens and found a few mushrooms in the woods, made a pot of soup.”

“Wow, such a feast!” Qin Zi’s eyes lit up.

“What’s with the ‘wow’? It’s for your fifth brother’s health!” Qin Xin shot her a look.

Qin Zi pouted but nodded sensibly.

“Let’s eat together,” Qin Yue said, and the siblings sat around a battered table that looked like an ancient relic.

Qin Xin ladled soup for each of them, but only Qin Yue’s bowl brimmed with wild greens and mushrooms.

She then heaped a large bowl of rice for Qin Yue, while the others got only half a bowl.

Glancing at his little sister Qin Zi, who looked no more than twelve or thirteen and whose eyes brimmed with longing, Qin Yue picked up his soup and placed some wild greens and mushrooms into her bowl, then scooped a third of his rice over to her.

“I can’t finish all this. Little Sister is still growing.”

Qin Hui and Qin Xin exchanged gentle glances with him, saying nothing more.

“Brother, I really can’t eat so much…” Qin Zi protested, swallowing her saliva but pulling the bowl closer.

“Eat up, or it’ll all go cold,” Qin Yue said, stopping her, then took a sip of the soup—and his expression froze.

He barely managed not to spit it out, his face contorting as he forced himself to swallow.

The taste was truly beyond words!

First, it was utterly bland, with hardly a trace of salt, and the mushrooms gave off a musty, decayed flavor as if they’d never seen daylight. The wild greens added an indescribable bitterness, the whole concoction reminiscent of bean gruel.

It tasted like dishwater!

Glancing at his brother, sisters, and little Qin Zi, he saw them all eating heartily, especially Qin Zi.

She sipped her soup, carefully picked up a mushroom and put it in her mouth, then took a bite of the icy millet rice, eyes narrowed in delight.

As if she were enjoying a rare delicacy.

Suppressing his nausea, Qin Yue tried a mouthful of the “ice millet” rice, which looked a bit like sorghum.

Dry, hard, and fibrous, it was like chewing wax.

Only now did Qin Yue understand why those companions had been so excited about the competition earlier.

The “reward” from Zhaoyang Sect was truly a luxury!

For the people of the Icy Abyss, ice millet was a daily staple—slow to grow, low-yielding, and terrible in taste.

In memory, it wasn’t so bad, mainly from habit, but to Qin Yue now, it was almost inedible—worse than undercooked rice.

The stomach might endure, but the senses could not.

These “criminals” weren’t just deprived of “refined grain”—this life was barely human.

He pushed the barely-touched soup toward Qin Zi. Seeing the others’ surprise, Qin Yue said, “I don’t feel well, can’t drink it. Little Sister, you have it.”

Seeing his pained expression as he forced down the rice, Qin Xin’s face filled with concern. “Let’s see the doctor tomorrow?”

Qin Hui said, “Or I could sneak over to Shuang’er and ask her for a couple stalks of ice lotus root.”

Qin Xin quickly said, “Don’t—if anyone finds out, it’ll look terrible! It wouldn’t be good for Fifth Brother’s reputation either.”

They used to have a bit of ice lotus root at home, but when Qin Hui got engaged recently, it was all sent as a betrothal gift—now there was none left, and unless it was a matter of life and death, they couldn’t ask for more.

Qin Hui paused, then said, “Then later, Fifth Brother, go catch a few fish for us to eat.”

He looked at Qin Xin. “Is there enough oil?”

A troubled look flashed in Qin Xin’s eyes. The little oil they had was meant for Qin Hui’s wedding feast, but seeing her brother’s condition, she nodded gently. “There’s enough.”

“Are we really having fish?” Qin Zi exclaimed excitedly.

A few kilometers from home, the underground dark lake was teeming with fish, but aside from the guards, few ever went fishing.

Partly, no one had time—after a day’s labor, they were exhausted; partly, it was because the oil and salt needed to cook fish were a rare luxury for the people of the Icy Abyss!

Even today’s meal, which seemed so sumptuous to Qin Zi, contained not a trace of oil.

Only on festivals, weddings, or funerals would they use those precious seasonings for a proper meal.

Qin Yue glanced at Qin Hui. “Isn’t that oil for your wedding banquet?”

Qin Hui waved it off with a gentle smile. “It’s fine. Besides, haven’t you heard there’s another competition coming up? Try to get a good ranking—there’ll be plenty of rewards! By the way, I’ll do your work tomorrow—you can’t always trouble Ye Yu and the others.”

“I’ll go with Third Brother,” Qin Xin said.

“Me too! My tasks aren’t heavy and I’m good at them now—really amazing!” Qin Zi declared proudly.

Qin Yue was silent for a moment, then couldn’t help but ask, “Third Brother, Fourth Sister—have you ever thought about leaving this place?”

“Leaving?”

“Escaping,” Qin Yue said.

At those words, Qin Hui and Qin Xin’s faces turned solemn, and even Qin Zi’s expression changed.

Qin Xin said anxiously, “Don’t scare us—never let such thoughts take root…”

Qin Hui’s face was grim. “The Sky Ladder is smooth as glass. Fall, and you’re smashed to pieces. Not even those with strong bodies could survive climbing up and breaking through the ice cap—you’d freeze to death outside!”

Qin Xin added, “Grandfather said he once saw someone brought back from the icefields by the great figures of Zhaoyang Sect—frozen into an ice sculpture that shattered at a touch!”

Qin Zi said nothing, fear in her eyes.

Qin Xin continued, “Unless you’re chosen, don’t ever think of escaping!”

Qin Hui and Qin Zi both nodded in agreement.

Qin Yue said no more. As a soul from another world, he was clearly out of place among them.

Not to mention that he had already awakened the “Yin Fate Disc” in his sleep and learned the “Netherworld Escape Technique.”

Even without that, he would have to find a way to escape this cursed place before the disciples of Zhaoyang Sect came to collect the ice lotus next time!

Because every time they came, they chose a handful of people to take away—the so-called “chosen” Qin Xin had just mentioned.

Everyone believed it was a blessing, a release from suffering.

But among the people of the Icy Abyss, a legend persisted: Over a hundred years ago, a chosen clansman narrowly escaped and returned with shocking news—

“It’s all a lie!”

“Those chosen come to no good end. In Zhaoyang Sect, they’re either used as test subjects, sparring partners to be beaten or killed at any time, or sent as cannon fodder on expeditions or in battle…”

“If you’re ever chosen, remember—at all costs, escape…”

Many thought that clansman had gone mad. Even if he spoke the truth, what could be done?

Did the people of the Icy Abyss have a choice?

Disciples of Zhaoyang Sect were stationed here all year round; the abyss was surrounded by thousand-foot-high ice walls, capped above by ice so thick sunlight could not penetrate.

The Sky Ladder, winding like a dragon along the sheer cliffs, was a road to certain death for ordinary folk with no cultivation!

Over the long years, some had tried to escape, sneaking past the guards to climb the ladder, but the results were always tragic.

They either slipped and fell to their deaths, or, if lucky enough to reach the top, froze to death on the endless ice fields.

Those “ice sculptures” brought back were just such unfortunate souls!

Generations here knew of “the sky,” the sun, moon, and stars, of day and night, and that the days above were bright and warm—passed down only through word of mouth.

But apart from being chosen and taken away, everyone else lived their entire lives in this hellish place.

After the madman brought back his message, he vanished; no one knew where he went.

A century has passed. Most have forgotten, and even those who remember no longer believe—it’s only a legend now.

The people of the Icy Abyss still hope to be chosen, still believe those taken away have found a better life.

After all, could anywhere be worse than the Icy Abyss?

Escape meant suicide—this belief was deeply ingrained!

So it was for Qin Xin and Qin Hui.

To them, Qin Yue’s desire to escape was as if the God of Longevity himself had put his neck in a noose, tired of life.

But Qin Yue would rather believe the madman!

He had no wish to remain, much less to be “chosen.”

He wanted to cultivate, to go home, to live openly and with dignity.