Chen Ren stood still and looked at the two urns, and in that moment, he understood exactly why Yalan had brought him here.

He had never once thought about visiting this place. He had pushed away every reminder of the past tied to this body… because it wasn't truly his. Even coming back to Red Peak City had been a decision made out of necessity, not desire. He had wanted to stay as far away from this past as he could.

But now, he was standing in front of the remains of his predecessor's parents.

The Chen Ren who once lived here… had never come. He had shut himself off, bitter and hurt. To him, these urns were a symbol of abandonment. His parents had died in the sinkhole, leaving him behind. Their bodies were only recovered months later, long after he had cried his voice dry and stopped believing they would return. In his young heart, they hadn't died—they had left him.

Chen Ren felt something twist inside his chest. A mix of emotions—some were his own, and some were old pains that belonged to the soul he had fused with. A strange heaviness sat in his throat.

He lowered his gaze to Yalan. She waited silently, her amber eyes filled with an emotion he could not name. She wasn't pushing him… but she hoped.

He looked back at the urns. What am I supposed to do here?

He didn't have any connection to their memories. He didn't have grief. He didn't have the right.

But after a quiet breath, he took a single step forward. There was incense placed neatly before the urns. His fingers lifted gently, and a small flicker of lightning qi sparked at his fingertip dancing like a tiny star.

He touched the incense.

A thin flame bloomed. Smoke curled upward in slow spirals, drifting into the air like a silent prayer.

Chen Ren didn't speak. He simply stood, letting the smoke rise between him and the urns—two lives lost, one life borrowed, and a future neither set of parents could have ever imagined.

For a while, nothing came out of his mouth.

Thoughts churned in his head, but his mouth refused to move. His heart beat a little too loud. His fingers twitched by his side. Finally, he forced his throat to work.

"I'm… not your son," he began, voice low and uneven. "But I'm thankful to him."

The words felt strange on his tongue. Smoke from the incense curled between his face and the urns like a veil.

"He grew up into an idiot," Chen Ren admitted with a thin, humorless breath. "But even then… his memories, his body, and his place in this world have helped me survive."

He stared at the names carved into the urns. They belonged to two people who had cared for someone else entirely. But fate had bound them anyway.

"I know you must have wanted more for him," he said softly. "Before the sinkhole stole you away. You probably hoped he'd become strong, respected… not a boy beaten down and mocked in his own home."

His lips pressed together. The incense smoke stung his eyes.

"He didn't handle the pain well. He shut everyone out. He couldn't see the hands reaching for him. So I hope," he whispered, "you remember him kindly… wherever you both are."

Chen Ren swallowed hard. His next words carried a vow, one thing he had believed in since the start of his life in this world.

"I don't know what 'respecting the dead' is supposed to look like. I don't know what I can do for you… or for Chen Ren who should be standing here right now."

He bowed his head.

"But I will make sure this name—your son's name—is known across the Empire one day."

Not as trash. Not as forgotten. But as someone who reached the heavens.

He stepped back. The faint warmth from the burning incense brushed his fingertips like a goodbye. He turned to Yalan, exhaling.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice rough. "I wish I had more to offer. More to say. But… this is complicated."

Yalan shook her head gently, her tail lowering as her eyes softened. "You did enough," she said. "Chen Ren's parents told me once—if they ever died in the sinkhole, they wanted him to visit, to light incense… even if just once in a long while. That was their only wish. And now, it's finally fulfilled."

Something loosened in Chen Ren's chest.

"We can leave whenever you want," she added.

Chen Ren nodded. He took one last look at the urns, then turned.

They walked out together, without any word or any forced comfort. It was just footsteps echoing in the silence.

Outside, the city moved like nothing had happened—vendors calling, cart wheels grinding over stone, people running here and there. Chen Ren glanced at Yalan. "Let's head for the gates," he said. "The others should be waiting. Then we go to the sinkhole."

Yalan nodded. They took the long streets instead of back alleys, not rushing. Chen Ren let the noise wash over him but his thoughts kept sliding back to the urns, to smoke curling like soft thread. He wondered—briefly, uselessly—what it would have been like if those two were still alive. Would they have seen through him? Would they have helped him or berate him?

The questions rose, then fell. There were a lot of what ifs, a lot of questions about his place in the world.

The transmigration had never fit cleanly. Sometimes he felt like a blade with two edges that didn't quite meet. He kept the edges sharp by moving, by making deals, by hunting goals. He did the same now—pulled his mind forward, toward the sinkhole and the hunt waiting there.

He wasn't afraid of dying in the sinkhole. He was afraid of losing something he needed: a hand, a leg, an eye. The bestiary's sketches kept playing in his mind. Beasts down there weren't like the ones on the surface. They were older and far more ferocious, having lived in such thick qi.

They reached the city gates as the sun tilted west. A carriage waited near the watch post, horses snorting air. Luo Feng stood with his arms crossed, dust on his boots and a grin under his travel scarf. Beside him, Zhou Ping held a bundle of rope and tools like a man counting each one twice.

When they spotted Chen Ren, Luo Feng lifted a hand and waved big. "Sect Leader Chen!" he called, voice bright over the road noise. "Let's go. We've got a long road ahead."

Chen Ren's gaze flicked once to the wall tops, once to the sky. Then he stepped up into the carriage, ready to leave behind the city.

***

The journey to the sinkhole took longer than Chen Ren expected.

If he sprinted using qi, he could have reached it within hours… but that would have been foolish. Diving into a deadly pit while tired was like asking the heavens to smite him. So he rode with the others, letting the carriage wheels rattle and the wind brush his face while he saved every shred of strength.

With nothing else to do, he finally checked his star space again.

He hadn't dared look since the last time—afraid the cracks might have spread, afraid he would see it collapsing piece by piece. But now, as his senses slipped inward…

He blinked.

The fractures were still there, but thinner. Shorter. Like a wound finally forming a scab. The oppressive pressure that once pushed on his soul felt… lighter.

Still no golden dragon in sight, though. Just silence.

Good enough, he thought. If his guess was right, once he broke through the first step of body cultivation, he'd have the stability needed to move toward the foundation establishment realm.

But that first step demanded a beast's body.

And that meant he had to go deep, underground—into a world where the earth itself wanted you dead.

He imagined the fight over and over. A darting figure in darkness. Slashing claws. A narrow cave that punished every misstep. Tricks ready in both hands. Qi ready to burst the moment he needed it.

Even so, a coil of tension sat in his chest.

He had never fought under tons of rock before. One wrong move and a stray stalactite might spear him like a kebab.

He grimaced.

Please… let me not die crushed by a stupid rock.

As if summoned by the thought, Wang Jun's voice suddenly echoed sharp and full of rude, familiar annoyance.

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"Look up for your head, kid."

Chen Ren twitched. "You and your pessimism again."

"Head injuries are the worst to fix with pills," Wang Jun continued with a scoff. "If you crack your skull open down there, you'll be even more of an idiot than you already are." He smirked for a beat.

"And then, unfortunately," Wang Jun added dryly, "we'll have to put you down."

Chen Ren stared at the mountains ahead, jaw tightening.

"What a lovely, motivational speech," he muttered. Chen Ren frowned down at the head. "I'm not a pet you can just put down when I'm hurt. And do you ever say anything that isn't about death?"

Wang Jun sniffed. "I'm giving you advice. Good advice."

"You can give advice without wishing me dead every three sentences," Chen Ren shot back. "And if I die, you'll be stuck out here in this barren land. Maybe one of the clans will find you and mount you on a wall. I doubt they'll hand you books to read."

Wang Jun turned toward Yalan as if she were his last hope. "The cat will rescue me."

Yalan flicked her tail and smirked. "If Chen Ren dies, the contract breaks. I'll be crippled trying to keep myself alive. Saving you would be the last thing on my mind."

Wang Jun sighed then pointed his chin toward Luo Feng. "Fine. Then this farmer will handle it."

Luo Feng blinked, scratching his head like he wasn't sure if he had heard correctly. "I mean… I'd try. But I don't think I could fight off a beast just to protect you. I'm no fighter."

The head looked personally offended. "Unbelievable."

Before Chen Ren could make another jab, Zhou Ping cleared his throat softly from the front of the carriage. "We're here, Sect Leader Chen."

The words stopped the bickering as surely as a blade dropped between them.

The carriage rolled to a slow stop. The wheels creaked. The horses snorted tired air.

Chen Ren pushed open the door and stepped down first before grabbing Wang Jun. The others got out slowly, leaving only Whiskey who was still napping. That's what the lunari had done the whole trip.

The ground beneath was cold, uneven, and smelled faintly of wet stone.

Night cloaked everything. The stars above blinked like distant lanterns. The sun had already vanished while they were on the way—meaning there were no wandering cultivators here, no clan scouting parties or mercenary teams hunted at night.

But it also meant the beasts would be awake.

Down below, in the enormous black pit carved into the earth, something snarled. Most people avoided the sinkhole at night. Anyone who didn't was either confident…

…or insane.

Chen Ren took a deep breath.

Luckily, he wasn't relying on confidence alone.

His eyes slid toward Yalan. With her here? He did not worry about the night.

Chen Ren scanned the rim. Shapes moved on the far side—low, scaled bodies hugging the rock. Eyes like cold lamps watched from the dark.

He walked to the lip and leaned out to look. The sinkhole dropped away in a black spiral. Wind rose from below, heavy with damp and mineral. He held Wang Jun's head in one hand.

"Don't drop me," the old man hissed, more shaky than usual. "If you do, I'll curse your whole bloodline."

Yalan's whiskers twitched. "It would be fun, though. I'm sure you'd survive a fall to the center of the earth."

Wang Jun scoffed. "Some beast would catch me first. This place gives me chills. Thicker qi means higher danger."

Chen Ren nodded. He felt it too. Each breath here came thick and bright, like drinking fire. His skin tingled. His limbs felt lighter. If he went much deeper, the qi alone might crush him. Good thing his target lived near the entrance.

Footsteps crunched behind him. Luo Feng stopped at his shoulder. "How are you going to do it, Sect Leader Chen?"

Chen Ren didn't look away from the pit. "I go with Yalan. We handle the beast and come back. She'll keep the strange beasts from getting close. You all stay here and watch the edge."

On the rim, he suddenly noticed a cluster of lizards crouched—long bodies, iron-grey scales, ridged backs. They stared across at the group, throats pulsing, teeth bared. A few gave short, ugly snarls, but none moved closer. Instinct told them what reason would not: try it, and die.

"See?" Chen Ren said softly. "They're thinking about it."

He set Wang Jun carefully on a flat rock, then loosened his shoulders and rolled his wrists. Lightning hummed faintly under his skin.

"Yalan," he said.

She padded to his side, tail low, eyes bright.

"Let's go."

Wang Jun glared at the pit. "Wonderful. If a bigger beast wanders up, we'll be the side dish."

Zhou Ping stiffened at that, his face going pale as moonlight. He shuffled back from the edge quickly like a beast was already upon him.

Chen Ren shook his head. "Relax. Stay away from the drop and you'll be fine. Beasts down here love the qi too much to leave it. They don't chase what's outside."

Luo Feng scratched at his cheek. "And if something else comes? Those lizards look like they wanna try."

Chen Ren clapped his shoulder. "Then you deal with it. You borrowed those library books—there were combat techniques in them, weren't there?"

Luo Feng looked guilty. "There were… but I've never tried them on a real threat."

"You probably won't have to," Chen Ren said, sounding far calmer than what he felt. But he believed all of them would be fine.

There should be no hunters. No clan members No mercenaries this time of the night. Only a handful of weak beasts watching from afar.

And if someone powerful did show up…

Chen Ren's gaze flicked to Wang Jun. The head played the helpless old relic too well. He always acted like one drop would end him, but Chen Ren felt it in his soul.

There was more to the old bastard than reading and insults.

Chen Ren walked up to the edge and stared into the sinkhole—the world turned upside down beneath his feet. Jagged rocks jutted inward like the ribs of some giant beast. Not far down, a ledge crook curved into the darkness. That would be his landing point.

He turned to Yalan. She was stretching like a lazy house cat about to leap onto a roof. Flames glimmered faint around her fur.

"You ready?" he asked.

Her whiskers twitched. "Always. You're not scared of jumping, right?"

A beat passed.

Of course I'm scared, he thought. It felt like he was jumping into a throat in the earth waiting to swallow him whole.

But he set his jaw, forcing the fear back into the cage of his ribs.

"No," he said. "In and out. It will be a quick hunt."

The fear still bubbled. But he didn't let it settle. Instead, he stepped back, knees coiling.

Then he jumped.

Wind howled up like a dying thing, clawing at his clothes.

And right then—right when his feet left the ground—a shadow launched from somewhere in the hole, shrieking and attached itself to his face.

***

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