Chapter 4: The Old Madman

When Qin Yue awoke, his head was spinning and heavy, his body weak and drained. For a moment, he almost believed he had only suffered a nightmare and was still in the civilized world.

Beneath him was no longer the hard, unyielding earthen kang, nor the old, thin bedding; instead, he lay atop something soft, offering the comfort of a real bed.

He rubbed his head and took in his surroundings carefully, only to feel a pang of disappointment.

Several smokeless lamps, fueled by some unknown oil, bathed the room in bright light.

His gaze soon fixed on a massive white pelt nailed to the wall—its limbs splayed wide, the head mounted at the top, nearly covering the entire surface, radiating an oppressive aura.

The moment he recognized what it was, Qin Yue felt a chill run down his spine.

It was a full polar bear skin—or so he thought. Yet this pelt alone could have wrapped three polar bears!

Just then, an old man with disheveled hair limped through the door, uneven steps carrying him to Qin Yue’s side. His voice was aged and hoarse as he spoke: “You’re awake?”

It was the very same voice Qin Yue had heard before losing consciousness.

“Thank you, elder, for saving me. May I ask where I am?” Qin Yue inquired.

The old man’s hair was wild, but his clothes were impeccably clean. Unlike the coarse gray garb that all the people of the Ice Abyss wore, his blue robe resembled the daoist attire from before Qin Yue’s crossing.

His cheeks were thin but ruddy, a beard trimmed along his jaw, and his eyes were bright, almost luminous.

“Where else could this be? Of course, it’s the Ice Abyss!”

The old man tossed out the words carelessly and went out, returning with a steaming clay pot. A rich, savory aroma of meat quickly filled the air.

Qin Yue’s nose twitched. Meat, in the Ice Abyss? And such a colossal bear—he’d never heard of any creature like that native to these lands! It couldn’t be a local beast.

So…

He glanced at the old man, a bold conjecture taking shape in his mind—though it seemed absurd.

Wasn’t that legendary madman who possessed cultivation supposed to have lived over a hundred years ago? Could he truly still be alive?

Or was it that someone among the clan had secretly begun cultivating, able to hunt on the ice plains beyond?

“You’re reckless—your body is frail and devoid of spiritual power, yet right after awakening your bloodline, you dared to run off. I don’t know whether to call you a genius, or a fool.”

The old man spoke bluntly, placing the clay pot on the bedside table and setting down a pair of wooden chopsticks. “Eat something to regain your strength. We’ll speak of your questions later.”

The food was right at hand, and the aroma grew ever more enticing. Qin Yue couldn’t help but swallow.

It had only been a few days, not so long that he was desperate for meat, but this fragrance was irresistible.

He propped himself up and offered the old man a respectful salute. “Thank you for saving me, senior, but such precious meat—I am unworthy to accept it.”

The elder glanced at him and sighed softly. “Indeed, it’s far too valuable for the people of the Ice Abyss. Even outside, it’s rare. But eat without worry—out here, what grows on the mountain is for those who dwell upon it. This is not so uncommon on the ice plains.”

“You can go outside?” Qin Yue’s eyes brightened.

“Eat first!” The old man waved him off and left the room.

Qin Yue truly was famished. That first “sumptuous” meal of wild vegetable and mushroom broth with icy millet rice had left him in despair. Even the subsequent “fish soup over rice” barely compared to the life he once knew.

To eat meat like this—pure bliss.

But as he picked up the chopsticks, the image of his sixth sister’s bright eyes and his fourth sister’s careful hand sprinkling salt flashed through his mind. His appetite waned.

From outside, the old man’s voice carried in: “Eat, child. If you wish to change the fate of your family and your people, you must first become strong. Otherwise, what good is a meal or two of meat?”

Qin Yue silently took up the chopsticks, plucking a piece of braised meat and placing it in his mouth. His eyes lit up.

Tender, fragrant, flavorful, perfectly salted, the meat was nothing short of divine!

He had never tasted anything so delicious.

More astonishing still, the moment he swallowed, a surge of vital energy swept through his body, as though he had been recharged.

He feasted heartily, savoring every bite. Soon, sweat ran down his temples, and the pallor of his face gave way to a healthy flush.

The energy he had expended from his earlier recklessness was replenished; he felt renewed strength coursing through him.

There were two or three pounds of meat in the clay pot—far more than he would have managed before, yet now he finished every morsel, broth and all.

At the bottom, he found a “side dish” he hadn’t noticed in his haste: ice lotus.

From the start, Qin Yue hadn’t taken the old man for a guard of the Zhaoyang Sect; he knew all those men, as they rotated every three years with the ice lotus harvest. The first thing the new guards did was assemble everyone and take roll, making sure all remembered each other’s names.

They were all young, and none would treat him so kindly. If they discovered anyone cultivating, they would sooner kill him and report to the ancestors.

So who was this old man, whom he had no memory of?

Anyone who could leave the Ice Abyss, hunt such a giant white bear, and dare to eat ice lotus in secret had to be a person of great ability.

Perhaps this was his opportunity.

With that thought, he wiped his mouth, feeling a warmth throughout his body, the last of his headache gone.

The old man entered, saw the empty pot, and nodded in satisfaction.

“Whose child are you?”

“I’m of the Qin family. My name is Qin Yue.”

“And Qin Qiyuan—what is he to you?”

The name made Qin Yue pause; after a moment’s recollection, he replied, “That is my great-grandfather.”

The old man gazed at him and then asked directly, “Do you wish to leave this place?”

“Of course I do!”

“And why?”

“I don’t want to be trapped here my whole life.”

“That’s all?”

“If I am able, I want to take my family, even my clan, with me. They shouldn’t be imprisoned here.”

He gave a soft laugh at this. “A lofty ideal. But do you know we are descendants of sinners? We are confined here, enslaved, to atone for our crimes.”

“I’ve heard the elders say so since childhood. But I must ask—what crime warrants being chained here as slaves, generation upon generation? Even our oldest ancestors cannot say why. Did we offend the heavens themselves?”

The old man, hearing the youth’s indignation, let out a dry chuckle, then sighed. “Perhaps, indeed, we did offend the heavens.”

He looked at Qin Yue, his gaze earnest. “If I could help you escape, would you forget your family, forget the people here?”

Qin Yue shook his head. “I would not.”

The old man studied him deeply. “I hope you speak from your heart. Among our people, a promise is sacred.”

“Senior, may I ask—who are you?” Qin Yue ventured cautiously.

“You must have heard a certain legend, haven’t you?” The old man seemed to read his thoughts.

Qin Yue blurted out, “You’re the old—er, the heroic elder of a hundred years ago?”

“I am that mad old man,” the elder replied calmly.

Even though Qin Yue had suspected, the confirmation still stunned him.

From the memories he had absorbed, the Zhaoyang Sect was but a distant impression—a world of mighty figures who could traverse the endless ice plains, of guards who could split stone and invoke awe.

But knowledge of cultivation was forbidden, inaccessible, and never discussed among the people of the Ice Abyss.

Now, to hear this old man admit he was the legendary madman from over a century ago—Qin Yue’s shock was profound.

By his reckoning, the old man had to be at least one hundred and thirty years old—yet he looked no older than sixty or seventy. So, cultivators truly could live so long?

“After you returned that year, you never left again?” Qin Yue asked, both in awe and longing.

“I did leave again, hoping to find a haven for our people and lead them away. But I alone could not save the clan.” The old man sighed wistfully and looked at Qin Yue.

“While I was outside, I discovered a secret: there have been others like me in the past, madmen who escaped with their lives, who tried to change our fate. All failed, crushed and silenced, their stories hidden and forgotten.”

“I realized then—ordinary people cannot escape, nor dare they try. Only through cultivation, only by becoming stronger, can we hope for rescue. That is why I returned and hid myself here, revealing myself only to children like you.”

“Children like me?” Qin Yue asked, puzzled.

The old man nodded. “You have awakened the ancestral bloodline, gaining abilities beyond the ordinary. I must nurture young people like you in secret, for only then is there hope.”

Qin Yue was shaken. This old man was no madman, but a true ancestor—cultivated, clear-minded, and devoted to his people.

Otherwise, having escaped, why return and risk exposure in this icy prison?

He also felt a quiet relief. He had feared that his secret, the bronze wheel, had been discovered. Even when he practiced the Netherworld Escape technique while fishing, he had been cautious. Only today had he let down his guard.

Cultivators in this world were far stronger than he had imagined. He was lucky his fainting spell had been discovered by an ally; if the guards had found him, the consequences would have been dire. He vowed to be more careful in the future.

“Is our enemy the Zhaoyang Sect?” he asked.

“Yes and no. As long as prejudice endures, even if we one day escape the Ice Abyss, we will never live openly in the world beyond.”

The old madman’s face twisted in bitterness. “Our unnaturally pale skin marks us out. We’re described as demons, feared everywhere, hunted by those sworn to exterminate evil. So, child, if you ever leave the Ice Abyss, first go to the deserted coast and tan your skin dark. Guard your identity at all costs.”

Perhaps loneliness, or perhaps the joy of finding another awakened, made the old madman speak at length.

He told Qin Yue of his own selection, of his experiences in the Zhaoyang Sect.

“They do not regard us as human—though they treat us differently based on our talent.”

“Those of average ability become ‘test subjects,’ used to trial their concoctions.”

“Those slightly better are raised as training partners. Their lives are marginally less miserable at first, but few survive more than five years.”

“The gifted are groomed as expendable pawns—I was one of these. The other ‘madmen’ of the past were the same...”

Qin Yue asked, “When you escaped, did the Zhaoyang Sect not threaten or retaliate against your family?”

He cared deeply, not wanting to endanger his loved ones by fleeing.

The old madman shook his head. “The elders used to say it was so, but things have changed. Our numbers dwindle with every generation. No matter how they encourage births, we only grow fewer.”

“Now, only a few thousand remain. The sect needs us to cultivate the precious ice lotus for their medicine—if they killed us all, who would labor for them?”

“The Ice Abyss is a natural prison; the vast ice fields beyond are insurmountable for ordinary folk. So they no longer care if someone escapes—no one survives outside anyway.”

Qin Yue felt a wave of relief. “And sometimes, if they find a frozen corpse, they can use it as a warning, yes?”

The old man nodded. “But anyone found cultivating, or escaping the sect’s grasp, will be hunted with bounties and relentless pursuit. If captured, their fate is far worse than death. The cruelty of those self-righteous beasts is beyond imagination.”

He turned to Qin Yue. “Knowing all this, do you still dare learn the ways of cultivation from me? Do you still long to leave?”

“I do! I do!” Qin Yue replied, his voice resolute, his heart aflame with excitement.

The old madman studied him for a long moment, then said quietly, “Since you possess such resolve, from this moment on, consider yourself already dead.”