The moment he stepped out of the Academic Committee office, Gu Xiuyuan felt he had already died.
Not a physical death, but something deeper – the beliefs that had sustained him for five years, his hopes for the future, his trust in the word "justice" – all had been shattered in that room.
The corridor was long, the lights a ghastly white. He moved mechanically, not knowing how he entered the elevator. The doors slid shut, and the metal walls reflected his face – pale, numb, his eyes vacant.
The first floor arrived. The doors opened. He walked out.
Outside was the early winter campus, the sky overcast, the wind biting. The leaves of the plane trees had all fallen, swirling in the gusts. A few students passed him, chatting and laughing, not giving him a second glance.
Gu Xiuyuan stood at the entrance of the administration building, not knowing where to go.
The dormitory? That was provided by the school. Now that the punishment was decided, it would probably be taken back soon. The lab? His access card had likely been deactivated already. His supervisor's office? That was a place he never wanted to set foot in again.
He wandered aimlessly, past the library, past the lecture halls, past the cafeteria. Every place was so familiar, yet so alien. Five years. He had been at this university for five years, from doctoral student to doctoral candidate, and now to "academic misconduct offender." These five words were branded onto him like a hot iron, impossible to ever wash away.
His phone vibrated.
He took it out and looked. It was an email from the college. The subject line was very formal: "Notice Regarding the Revocation of Gu Xiuyuan's Doctorate Degree Application Qualification." Opening it, inside was bureaucratic jargon, cold and impersonal, not even an extra punctuation mark.
Below that was a text message from a junior lab mate: "Senior, about that disciplinary notice... is it true? I don't believe you'd do something like that."
Gu Xiuyuan stared at the line of text for a long, long time. He typed a reply: "It's true, I plagiarized." Then deleted it. He typed another: "Zhang Jianguo set me up." Then deleted that too.
Finally, he replied: "Don't ask anymore."
Then he turned off his phone.
He put the phone back in his pocket and kept walking. The wind grew stronger, making it hard to keep his eyes open. But he didn't want to stop. It felt like if he stopped, those thoughts would catch up with him – thoughts about "what happens now."
What could he do now?
No doctorate, no paper, no recommendation letter from his supervisor. Only a disciplinary decision and public condemnation across the internet. Go to a company? They'd check his background and see "academic misconduct." Take the civil service exam? It's on his record. Go home and farm? What would his father think? That father who patted his shoulder at the train station and said, "Study hard, be someone who amounts to something" – how would he face this son who had "amounted to something"?
As he walked, he found himself at the foot of the back mountain.
This was the edge of the campus, a place few people frequented. The hillside was overgrown with wild trees, a small path winding upward, leading to higher ground. He didn't know where the path led, but he started climbing anyway.
The path was steep; in some places, he needed to use his hands and feet. Dead branches scratched his hands, but he didn't feel it. He just kept climbing, as if climbing high enough could put him far away from all this mess.
Finally, he reached the top.
Here, there was an abandoned air-raid shelter, a relic from the war of resistance. The entrance was sealed with barbed wire, but someone had cut a hole in it, just big enough to squeeze through.
Gu Xiuyuan squeezed through.
The tunnel was deep, getting darker the further he went. He turned on his phone's flashlight; the beam cut a path through the darkness. The walls were covered in graffiti – various names, dates, and crude drawings. The ground was littered with beer bottles and cigarette packs, the air thick with a musty, foul smell that made one want to gag.
He kept walking.
After about five minutes, the tunnel ended. The flashlight's beam fell upon a stone wall.
Strange patterns were carved into the wall.
Gu Xiuyuan froze.
The patterns were dense, winding, like some kind of ancient design. The lines were deep, clearly not casual scratches by modern people. Some areas were blackened by smoke, but the neat arrangement was still visible. They weren't random graffiti; they had a pattern – main lines, branches, intersections, nodes.
He subconsciously stepped closer, shining the light on the patterns.
From a chemist's perspective, it looked like a reaction pathway diagram.
Reactants here, products there, energy changes indicated by line thickness, catalytic nodes marked with special symbols – everything was so familiar, as if someone had carved a chemical reaction mechanism onto the wall.
But how was that possible? In an abandoned air-raid shelter, how could something like this exist?
Gu Xiuyuan reached out and touched the carvings. The touch was cold. The lines were deep, in some places he could insert half a finger. He traced a main line downwards, and when he reached the center, he found a depression.
In the hollow lay a jade slip.
About the size of a palm, emerald green all over, faintly glowing in the darkness. The glow was soft, like firefly light, or the inherent phosphorescence of some minerals.
Gu Xiuyuan reached for it.
The moment his fingertips touched the jade slip, a surge of icy energy rushed from his fingertips into his mind. It felt like someone had taken an ice-cold needle, pierced his finger, and then traveled up his veins – wrist, forearm, elbow, shoulder – all the way into his brain.
His whole body convulsed, and his vision went black.
Countless images and information flooded his consciousness like a bursting dam.
He saw a vast starry sky, countless planets flashing before his eyes – some fiery red, some icy blue, some gleaming with golden light. He saw a colossal palace floating above a sea of clouds, white jade steps, golden tiled roofs, cranes dancing amidst the swirling mist. He saw a blurry figure standing before the palace, shrouded in light, features indistinguishable, yet radiating an indescribable loneliness.
Then came lines of text, etching themselves into his memory as if alive:
"Basic cultivation method of the Chongxuan Sect... Method of drawing Qi into the body... Key points for channel operation... Essentials of Foundation Establishment..."
"Key points for integrating the Purple Flame Heart... Distinguishing compatibility... Mastering the fire..."
"Nine Basic Methods of Artifact Refining... Material Selection... Smelting... Shaping... Quenching..."
"Overview of Common Knowledge in the Cultivation World... Realm Divisions... Sect Distributions... Artifact Grades..."
Each paragraph was followed by detailed annotations, as if instructing a complete novice. The knowledge was too much, too dense, like countless rivers flooding his mind, causing his head to ache terribly.
Finally, there was a longer passage. The handwriting was still scrawled, but more solemn than the previous cultivation information:
"I have traversed countless worlds and seen countless cultivators. They cultivate techniques, comprehend laws, yet few stop to think: where do these laws come from? Why can fire overcome metal, water overcome fire? Behind these 'patterns,' is there not a more fundamental rule?"
"Once, I encountered a man who understood the world in a way I had never seen – not through insight, but through analysis. He broke down complex phenomena into the most basic elements, then reassembled them. That way of thinking showed me another path."
"Unfortunately, he left in haste, and we couldn't talk deeply. But that seed took root in my heart."
"Later, I began searching, hoping to find someone capable of understanding the world in that way. They wouldn't need high cultivation, wouldn't need deep heritage – just a heart willing to explore 'why.'"
"If you can see this, it means you meet at least one condition – you come from the place he came from. The people there seem naturally inclined to this habit of inquiry."
"The contents of this jade slip are a small greeting gift. Whether you use it or how you use it is up to you. I simply wish to know what happens when this way of thinking collides with the rules of the cultivation world."
"Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe, it will forge a different path."
"One last thing: later comer, use it if you can, but don't force it if you can't. Artifact refining is like living your life; success comes naturally when the time is right."
Unsigned.
Gu Xiuyuan's consciousness struggled in the flood of information. The words and images were like countless hands, pulling him deeper. He tried to grasp something, but there was nothing to hold onto.
After an unknown time, the icy aura slowly receded.
He opened his eyes, finding himself still standing in the same spot, his phone's flashlight still illuminating the stone wall. His clothes were soaked with sweat, his forehead covered in cold sweat. His whole body felt like it had been pulled from water. His legs were weak; he had to lean against the wall to stand steady.
He looked down at the jade slip in his hand – it was still there, the touch warm and smooth, the same as before. But looking closely, its surface seemed slightly dimmer. The glow was still there, but not as bright as before.
"What is this thing..." he murmured.
Before he finished speaking, the jade slip suddenly emitted an even stronger light.
The light spread from his fingers across his entire body, like countless luminous snakes burrowing into his skin, traveling along his channels. A warm sensation rose from his palm, quickly turning hot, as if something was burning inside him.
It hurt.
An agonizing pain.
The heat traveled up his arm, past his shoulder, through his chest, burning every channel along the way. He could feel the snakes moving in his blood vessels, traveling through his muscles, climbing over his bones.
He doubled over in pain, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out. His nails dug into his flesh, his lips bit until they bled.
Finally, the heat converged in his lower abdomen, at his core.
There, all the heat coalesced into a spinning vortex of light. The vortex rotated slowly, like a miniature whirlpool, or a newly born heart. With each rotation, new streams of heat were drawn in; with each rotation, the light grew brighter.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
It started beating, like a second heart, keeping the same rhythm as the one in his chest.
Gu Xiuyuan slumped to the ground, panting heavily. Sweat blurred his vision, but he could sense that thing inside him – warm, powerful, like a small sun.
Purple Flame Heart.
He recalled the records in the jade slip: "Purple Flame Heart, the ultimate Foundation Establishment treasure of the Chongxuan Sect, requires extremely high compatibility to integrate. After integration, it can transform one's constitution, activate spiritual roots, and lay the foundation for the path of cultivation." While transmitting information, the jade slip had actively released a thread of the Purple Flame Heart's origin power. Sensing that Gu Xiuyuan's constitution was perfectly compatible, it directly integrated into his body, completing the fusion. The whole process was like a key turning in a lock, requiring no deliberate cultivation on Gu Xiuyuan's part – it was all part of the arrangement left by the mysterious figure in the jade slip.
He didn't know that this was precisely the "threshold" set by that mysterious person – only those whose constitutions were compatible with the Purple Flame Heart could walk out of this air-raid shelter alive.
He panted, feeling that newly born heart in his core, a strange feeling welling up inside him. After being abandoned by the whole world, someone, countless years ago, had left such a gift for him.
Just then, all the patterns in the air-raid shelter lit up.
Those winding lines seemed to come alive, emitting a faint blue light. The light spread from the walls to the ground, from the ground to the ceiling, until the entire cave was illuminated. The graffiti blackened by smoke, the beer bottles and cigarette packs on the floor – everything was clearly visible in the blue light.
Gu Xiuyuan struggled to stand, but his legs wouldn't obey.
Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet disappeared.
Not collapsed, but disappeared – as if there had never been ground there. In its place was a swirling vortex of light, countless points of light dancing within it – red, blue, purple, gold – like ribbons intertwining.
A tremendous suction pulled from below, like an invisible hand dragging him down.
"Ahhh——"
He fell into the light vortex.
In that falling moment, he felt himself being torn apart. His body stretched, compressed, twisted, as if being squeezed into a narrow pipe. A sharp roar filled his ears, so piercing it hurt his eardrums. Endless streams of light flashed before his eyes, the points speeding past like countless meteors.
He tried to struggle, to scream, but couldn't make a sound. He felt compressed into a ball, then stretched into a line, then twisted into a knot. The pain was indescribable – not pain, but a feeling of his entire being shattering.
Time unknown.
Perhaps an instant, perhaps ten thousand years.
He lost consciousness.