The night wind in the Blackstone Grove carried a biting chill, pricking Lin Che's exposed skin like countless tiny needles. He had been running through the forest for half an hour; his coarse cloth clothes were torn to shreds by tree branches, and his knees and elbows were scraped raw, throbbing with every step. But he dared not stop—Mechanic City loomed behind him like a suspended blade, and he couldn't shake the fear that more of the Zhao family's men would come chasing at any moment.
The moon had slipped behind a cloud, plunging the grove into total darkness. Lin Che lit the oil lamp Su Qing had given him; its dim yellow glow barely illuminated the path a few steps ahead, casting twisted shadows of the black stone pillars that gave the grove its name. These pillars jutted up from the ground like petrified giants, their surfaces covered in moss and faint, unrecognizable carvings—remnants of a civilization long forgotten.
He slowed his pace, leaning against a cold stone pillar to catch his breath. The wheat cakes in his pocket were almost gone, and his throat was parched. He rummaged through his cloth bag, hoping to find a flask of water, but instead his fingers brushed against the ancient book he'd taken from the warehouse. Curiosity tugged at him—he flipped it open by the lamp's light, skipping past the unreadable archaic script until he reached the drawing of the star marrow birthmark.
As his fingertip touched the inked mark on the page, the birthmark on his wrist suddenly warmed, and a faint silver light seeped through his sleeve. The pages of the book rustled on their own, flipping to a new chapter filled with illustrations of strange plants—large leaves with glowing veins, flowers that emitted soft light, and roots that coiled like silver snakes. Below one illustration, a single line of archaic script glowed faintly, and to his shock, Lin Che suddenly understood its meaning: "Spirit plants—guardians of the old world, responders to star marrow's call."
Before he could process the words, a low growl echoed through the grove.
Lin Che snapped the book shut, blowing out the oil lamp in an instant. He pressed himself against the stone pillar, his heart pounding. The growl came again, closer this time—heavy, rhythmic footsteps crunching on dry leaves. Through the dim moonlight filtering between the trees, he saw a massive silhouette: a wolf-like beast with black fur matted with mud, its eyes glowing a menacing red. Its jaws dripped with saliva, and its claws scraped against the stone pillars as it sniffed the air, hunting for him.
"Blackstone Wolf," Lin Che whispered, recalling the stories he'd heard in the workshop. Blackstone Wolves were apex predators in the grove, their fur impervious to low-rank arcane attacks, and their jaws strong enough to crush iron. With his Mortal Rank arcane energy, he stood no chance.
The wolf lunged suddenly, its body hurtling through the air toward him. Lin Che dove to the side, narrowly avoiding its claws—they scraped against the stone pillar behind him, leaving deep gashes. He scrambled to his feet, running blindly through the grove, but the wolf was faster, closing in with every step.
Just as its jaws were about to clamp down on his shoulder, Lin Che tripped over a root and fell to the ground. The cloth bag slipped from his hand, spilling its contents—the ancient book, the metal map, and a handful of dried leaves he'd accidentally picked up earlier. The wolf circled him, growling, preparing for the final pounce.
Lin Che closed his eyes, bracing for the end—but the attack never came. Instead, he heard a soft rustle, followed by the wolf's pained yelp.
He opened his eyes to see something impossible: the dried leaves from his bag had sprouted into small green shoots, which were coiling around the wolf's legs, binding them tightly. The wolf struggled, but the shoots grew faster, wrapping around its body and constricting like vines. More shoots erupted from the ground, their tips glowing with a faint silver light—exactly the same color as his birthmark.
Lin Che stared in awe as the wolf was completely wrapped in the glowing vines, its growls fading into whimpers. The vines lifted the wolf off the ground, then tossed it aside, where it lay motionless, unconscious.
He looked down at his wrist—the birthmark was glowing brightly now, its light connecting to the vines like a thread. The ancient book on the ground flipped open again, to the same page with the spirit plant illustrations, and the glowing script seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat: "Star marrow is the source—spirit plants are the hands. They listen, they protect, they obey."
So it was the star marrow that had awakened the plants.
Lin Che reached out, gently touching one of the glowing vines. It curled around his finger, warm and soft, like a living thing. He thought back to the past-life memory he'd seen—the man in the ancient robe picking herbs in a valley of strange plants. Was that man a guardian of spirit plants? And had the star marrow given him that power, too?
Just then, he heard voices in the distance—more of the Zhao family's men, calling out to each other as they searched the grove. The vines sensed his panic, quickly retreating into the ground, leaving no trace behind.
Lin Che grabbed his bag, stuffing the book and map back inside, and ran deeper into the grove. The birthmark on his wrist had dimmed, but he could still feel its warmth, a quiet reminder of the power he was only just beginning to understand.
He didn't know where he was going, but he knew one thing: the Blackstone Grove held more secrets than he'd imagined. And if he could learn to control the star marrow's connection to spirit plants, it might be his only hope of surviving the dangers ahead—both the Zhao family's pursuit and the ancient mysteries waiting to be uncovered.
As he ran, the moon emerged from behind the clouds, casting light on a narrow path ahead. At the end of the path, he saw a faint glow—too bright to be the moon, too steady to be a beast's eyes. It was a light that seemed to call to the star marrow in his wrist, pulling him forward into the unknown.