Chapter Fourteen: The Short Baton

The posture of the skeleton was unnatural—it lay face down on the ground, twisted, one hand pressed against its chest, the other stretched rigidly in the direction its head pointed. The fingers were splayed, as if reaching out for help.

Upon seeing this, Cui Xiu fell into contemplation. He surveyed his surroundings, making careful calculations.

The scholar, in life, must have been trying to run toward something, his body wracked with some injury, writhing in pain. That would explain the corpse’s final, tormented position.

A few thoughts crossed Cui Xiu’s mind. Rising to his feet, he gazed in the direction the skeleton’s legs pointed. The world before him remained shrouded in mist, but with the scholar’s remains as a guide, something had shifted in Cui Xiu’s heart.

He raised his longsword, holding it across his chest, and proceeded forward with measured steps.

After thirty paces, the scene opened up before him—the mist suddenly cleared, revealing a three-foot-square patch of barren ground.

In the center of this space, a short rod of deepest black was thrust into the earth at an angle. Wisps of gray energy drifted from it, swirling gently before merging with the surrounding fog, leaving no trace behind.

At the sight, Cui Xiu instantly understood—the source of the strange happenings here was this mysterious rod.

He felt a stir within, but, although he had found the rod, he did not act rashly. Surely, the cause of the scholar’s death was also tied to this object.

With that in mind, and the lesson of his predecessor fresh in memory, Cui Xiu, despite his gift with gray mist, exercised utmost caution.

He took a moment to steel himself, then carefully approached the rod, feeling an immediate chill as he neared. Goosebumps prickled his skin involuntarily.

After a brief hesitation, Cui Xiu acted. Lifting his sword, he lightly tapped the rod.

A clear, metallic note rang out—what metal was this rod forged from, to sing so?

At the same time, the swirling mists around him surged as if agitated by some unseen force, tumbling in a restless tide.

Cui Xiu’s wariness grew, and he dared not take another step.

But after a time, the mist calmed, and nothing more occurred. Only then did Cui Xiu allow himself a quiet sigh of relief.

Yet, while he was making these tentative moves, he was unaware that outside the valley, the old crone who had been waiting sensed something. A faint smile of delight appeared on her wrinkled face.

...

Cui Xiu could not resist testing the rod with his hand. As his fingers brushed its surface, an icy cold coursed through him, and for a split second, it felt as if some monstrous force sought to invade his body.

He nearly let go in fright, but a familiar sensation followed, allowing him to suppress his panic.

Then, the cold transformed into a gentle coolness.

“Just as I thought,” he murmured.

Feeling the familiar tingle, and seeing wisps of gray energy streaming from the rod into his own body, Cui Xiu could not contain his joy.

His suspicions were confirmed: the rod, as the center of the disturbance here, was also the source of the gray mist.

Since his body, with the aid of his unique ability, was immune to the rod’s corruption, Cui Xiu relaxed and picked it up.

It was then he realized—the so-called “rod” was more a fragment, a component of something larger. It was far too short, with marks that showed it had been hacked or broken.

Before, with only a finger’s length protruding from the earth, he had assumed most of it lay buried. But when he picked it up, it came free at once.

He saw now it was no longer than his index finger, its width the same—a deep, uncanny black, etched all over with strange patterns he could not decipher.

Of course, his curiosity was piqued, but what truly drew his attention was the change in his gray mist panel.

The rod contained a vast reservoir of gray energy—or perhaps it was source energy. Upon contact, the figures on his panel leapt upward at a stunning rate.

In only a short while, his source energy had increased by a whole point.

This delighted Cui Xiu; previously, gathering the bones of the dead had taken him half a day to accumulate a single point. The efficiency here was staggering.

With this source energy, his power would grow—reason enough for excitement. The change in his panel far outweighed any concern over the rod’s origins.

“Fortune and misfortune are ever intertwined—how true the words of the ancients!”

Cui Xiu could not help but recite the proverb, elated.

But as he focused on his panel, another change began around him—this time, perhaps because he had removed the rod entirely.

Earlier, a mere touch with his sword had stirred the mist; now, with the rod in hand, a veritable storm erupted.

The entire valley’s fog churned wildly, as if driven by a gale. The mist twisted like a living cyclone, all converging on the rod in Cui Xiu’s grasp.

Startled, Cui Xiu could do nothing but watch as the mist rushed in, the gray streams drawn into the rod, until eventually the fog dissipated.

He did not know how long this took—perhaps only an instant, or the time it takes to drink a cup of tea—but at last, the mist that had engulfed him cleared away, revealing the tranquil valley in its entirety.

Without the fog, the valley lost its menacing air, becoming gentler, almost serene.

Exhaling deeply, Cui Xiu maintained his grip on the rod, not daring to move until the turbulence had completely passed.

The night breeze stirred, moonlight streaming down like a return to the living world.

“Master Cui? Are you all right?”

A frail, aged voice called out, drawing nearer until the old crone appeared at his side.

Seeing her, Cui Xiu felt a wave of relief. His tension eased, and he offered a smile. “Thank you for your concern, Granny. I am unharmed.”

“As long as you are well. If so, perhaps you could hand that object over to me? It brings no benefit to the living. Surely you saw what became of the scholar.”

For some reason, Cui Xiu felt a subtle chill in the old woman’s tone, as if the warmth had faded, replaced by something cold and sinister.

He thought little of it, attributing it to her ghostly nature. “It’s all right, Granny. You know I have practiced certain arts that protect me; this thing cannot harm me. In fact, it brings me some benefit—it’s a rare opportunity.”

To Cui Xiu, the rod was now his own, at least until he had drawn out all its source energy.

Yet, as soon as he finished speaking, the old crone sighed softly, her face darkening.

“Master Cui, you are making things rather difficult for this old woman...”