Dispersing All the Mist

Qin Ming gazed into the night, silently pondering. The core of his memories had returned, with only certain fine details remaining somewhat blurred. "If my deduction is true, then even without me, Qin Ming, there would have been a Zhang Ming, a Zhao Ming, and so on. The Cui clan simply needed an 'identity' standing there." Standing before the window, Qin Ming felt a tightness in his chest. "The Li clan's sudden rise and clash with a millennial clan certainly had nothing to do with me. The Cui clan could not have anticipated such an event ten years ago." Qin Ming reflected. His role in the Cui clan was likely reaching its end anyway—it had already been due for a curtain call. At this final stage, the Li clan's assault merely happened to coincide with it, sweeping him along in the current. Clearly, in a terrifying clash of such colossal scales between the Cui and Li clans, he originally had no part to play; it was just that he happened to be there, and they put his "remaining warmth" to use. Like those old men, he was destined to be consumed. Yet the Cui clan elders had all stepped onto that path willingly. Knowing that this journey meant near-certain death, and already nearing the end of their lifespans, they had gladly offered their final spark and warmth for the Cui clan. Qin Ming felt an inexplicable mix of emotions churning within him. "Every year, when spring arrived and flowers blossomed, they received a special letter..." This was the earliest clue where Qin Ming had sensed something amiss. It was the same every year. Reading that letter was always the happiest moment for Father Cui and Mother Cui; even Father Cui, so severe and rigid, would show a smile he could hardly conceal. "In one of those years, I vaguely overheard something, but it was too long ago, and back then I didn't seem to pay attention to that detail." Qin Ming frowned. However, he was currently undergoing his fourth Newborn, which was not yet over. There was still hope he could recall the finer details. "The fourth Newborn concerns the five senses, the subconscious, and instinctive intuition." Qin Ming felt confident he could tear away the curtain of the past completely. He had already noticed that the amount of spiritual substance consumed this time was truly immense. "If I hadn't entered the Thunder-Fire Gold-Forging Palace and withstood six or seven successive waves of heavenly light, obtaining a vast quantity of exceedingly rare and special spiritual substance, this Newborn of mine might have run into complications." Qin Ming realized that the injury to his head was even graver than he had imagined. Otherwise, he would not have hovered at death's door and lost all his memories. Fortunately, after this Newborn, every problem would be thoroughly resolved. "Severing the old affliction on top of the Newborn—I have consumed a double portion of spiritual substance." He had a premonition that this Newborn would be fiercer than any before. "Perhaps when I wake tomorrow, all those blurred corners in my mind will become completely clear." Qin Ming suddenly realized he had not even eaten, having shut himself in the room for an entire day. He rose and walked outside to have a simple meal. That night, after Qin Ming fell asleep, golden needles drew threads that interlaced throughout his entire body as if mending him. At the same time, silver mud covered him from head to toe, wrapping around him like a final poultice of miraculous medicine. The fractured part of his skull was no longer specially targeted; the hidden danger had clearly been thoroughly eradicated. Qin Ming entered the final stage of his fourth Newborn. In the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, he woke with a start and murmured unconsciously, "I am Qin Ming. I have a grandfather. I am not of the Cui clan." As he calmed down, the scene felt hauntingly familiar. Qin Ming sat up in quiet contemplation. Then he remembered: back in Silver Vine Town, in the home of a local family, he had woken with a start just like this. That time, he had bolted outside like a madman, rushing into the snow and ice, screaming and shouting. "Li Qingxu dealt a catastrophic blow to my head, leaving me unconscious for a long time before Cui Hong and that woman with a red mole in her right eyebrow placed me in Silver Vine Town. I pulled through that winter, but I nearly went mad..." Qin Ming reflected silently. Two years ago, while trapped in a stupor of unending nightmares, he had seen his young self and his grandfather, which was how he learned his real name was Qin Ming. Had the Newborn method from the silk book already begun taking effect back then? After lying back down, he soon fell into a deep sleep again, reliving the dreams from two years ago. *These aren't dreams; they are my childhood experiences.* Qin Ming's subconscious remained active. In these dreams, he confirmed that the old man was indeed his grandfather, and that his name was Qin Ming. "Child, this method in the silk book truly cannot be completed. Your grandfather practiced it for a lifetime and never succeeded." The old man sighed, yet he still turned the pages of the silk book for him, explaining it page by page. His true kin knew there was something wrong with this method. Even as he explained it, he earnestly warned that continuing to practice it would only ruin his future. The old man said, "I practiced it my whole life and pondered it my whole life. I suspect that to succeed in mastering it, one might have to die once—yet not truly, completely die. There is simply no way to gauge that boundary." Qin Ming's grandfather whispered, "What is a Newborn? Perhaps turning from death unto life is merely the first step." Over a decade ago, Qin Ming had been too young to understand how difficult and perilous that was. Then the old man shook his head again. "This is just the idle musing of a wretched old man. After all, the worthy predecessors who obtained the silk book were far more formidable than me, yet none could make it work. Even at the source of the silk book, those first creators and their disciples—didn't they all perish, leaving the silk book buried in dust, impossible to practice any further?" "Grandfather, once I master it, you won't have to suffer anymore. I'm going to take good care of you," the young Qin Ming said naively. "Alright, then you must grow up quickly. Reaching seventy is rare since ancient times, and your grandfather is already in his fifties. Given our conditions, I can live at most another ten years." Caressing his head with fond affection and worry, the old man said, "What I worry about most is you. If I'm gone, what will you do? You are still so young; you cannot support yourself." The old man said wistfully, "Grandfather's entire life was wasted on this silk book. I poured my heart and soul into it, living a failure of a life. Now that I am here, you may wear ragged clothes, but at least you have enough to eat. If I feel my time is near, I will find a good family for you." "Grandfather... only ten years? I don't want that! You can live to a hundred! I'll grow up very fast." Qin Ming held the old man's rough, large hand and finally asked, "Where are my parents? Let them come back and care for you." Hearing this, the old man grew despondent. "Them? They were ruined by the silk book too. To practice the method in it, they traveled far away. Counting the years, they are probably gone by now—they likely departed even before your grandfather. I don't want to hide it from you, because I don't have that much time left. You must mature early and be strong, so you can survive when Grandfather is no longer around." "Grandfather, I'll take care of you when I grow up. What do you like? What wishes do you have? Tell me, quickly!" The young Qin Ming urged, his eyes rimmed with red. "In the past, your grandfather wanted to master the method in the silk book. Now, I only wish for you to grow up safe and sound. Nothing else matters anymore." ... In the early morning, Qin Ming awoke and murmured, "Grandfather, where are you now?" More than ten years had passed since then. He sat there motionless for a long time before finally speaking: "Is my last living relative gone as well?" "Grandfather, you guessed right. One must die once to master the method in the silk book. I can fulfill all your wishes now. I truly want to see you again," Qin Ming said softly. He rose and rinsed his body with cold water. His fourth Newborn was completely finished. Not only was his mind clear, recalling every detail of the past, but he also felt that his physical constitution had improved once more. "I probably possess nearly five thousand jin of strength now. The severe trauma to my head had a tremendous impact on me. The reason so much spiritual substance was consumed this time was not only to repair old wounds, but also to make up for how earlier Newborns fell short because of those injuries." Pondering the matter, Qin Ming estimated that had his head not been injured, he would have been able to lift a cauldron of over twelve hundred jin during his very first Newborn. With the hidden danger eliminated, he felt limber and relaxed from head to toe. He had grown stronger. Yet when he thought of his grandfather and the Cui clan, he could not muster a smile. "After I entered the Cui clan, members of the direct lineage personally taught me to write the name Cui Chonghe, making sure I etched it into my memory, and for a long time, I had no contact with outsiders." Recalling the details of those early days, Qin Ming remembered once overhearing a hushed conversation in the estate: "He really does look somewhat like him." In truth, the Cui clan had never told the outside world that he had once been lost. As a youth, Qin Ming had harbored some doubts about that. Now it was clear that his arrival had been a seamless transition: as soon as one person left, he arrived to take that person's place. No wonder his precocious eldest brother, Cui Chongxiao, had shown an odd expression when seeing him for the first time, scrutinizing him closely. Viewed today, the omens had been there all along. Then Qin Ming also recalled a detail from when his parents received that special letter. Now that four Newborns had dispersed the mist, allowing him to see clearly, he remembered the anomaly from that day. Father Cui and Mother Cui had been overjoyed and excited, holding the letter and murmuring, "Chonghe possesses precocious wisdom, a divine talent blessed by heaven..." Thinking carefully on this sent a chill down one's spine—because there truly was another Cui Chonghe! As dazzling as Li Qingxu, Li Qingyue, and the direct daughter of the Wang clan were, they were only taken away and accepted as disciples by those beyond the mundane world in their teenage years. Yet the true Cui Chonghe had been sent away when he was only three or four years old! "Just how terrifying is his aptitude? Perhaps part of what Second Master Cui let slip while drunk was true, but it was never meant to describe me—it was meant for the real Cui Chonghe, who is destined to approach the immortal." Qin Ming believed that the senior master Father Cui spoke of—the one whose renown shook the night mist world—undoubtedly existed, and Cui Chonghe had long since entered his tutelage. "Father Cui and Mother Cui are exceptionally cautious by nature. Eldest Brother Cui Chongxiao only returned once every few years, and they forbade the clansmen from discussing which lineage he studied under, fearing trouble." Given that Cui Chonghe's aptitude was even more astonishing, they would naturally guard him even more closely, never letting a single whisper leak out. In truth, this was also understandable. All the major clans sent their descendants to the lands beyond the mundane world. In the Cui clan, for instance, young direct descendants were accepted as disciples by those beyond the mundane world every year. Moreover, several old men of the Cui clan were themselves people beyond the mundane world who resided there year-round. Presumably, powerful figures from other great clans were also present in significant numbers. It could be said that the realm beyond was no pure land; the influences of various clans were deeply intertwined within those orthodox lineages, inextricably tangled together. Father Cui and Mother Cui feared that if anyone learned of Cui Chonghe's identity, he would be targeted, and trouble would find him there. Therefore, they raised another Cui Chonghe here. "Meticulously selected... Perhaps I even resemble him a little." Qin Ming believed that, given how cautious Father Cui and Mother Cui were, it would have been abnormal if they hadn't taken measures to protect the real Cui Chonghe. "Two years ago, perhaps Cui Chonghe was exposed, or perhaps he had grown confident enough to have nothing to fear, ready to step onto the front stage and appear before the world. And so, it was time for my curtain to fall." As Qin Ming recalled the past, his eyes grew profoundly deep. "When the Cui clan clashed with the Li clan, I was merely sent to exert some leftover warmth." He thought of Cui Hao's grandfather. "If Seventh Uncle's grandfather hadn't been in that village, I might have been dragged down with those other old fellows before the feather-robed youth Li Qingxu even showed up." Qin Ming clearly remembered that Seventh Uncle's grandfather had twice rebuked those old men, ordering them to stay away and not approach. And without Seventh Uncle Cui Hao, Cui Hong and that woman probably would never have appeared to rescue him. "Though some things still puzzle me, this should be the gist of it. It was all because I had fulfilled my 'task' and it was time for me to exit the stage—the near-immortal Cui Chonghe was about to step into the limelight."