Night fell.
Mo Jiwu’s frenzy had subsided some time ago.
Now he lay in despair, staring at the sky as if counting the stars, though his eyes were dark and saw nothing.
He had slipped into hibernation again.
After a while, his eyes glowed faintly and he regained consciousness from the involuntary hibernation, but he didn’t change his position.
He hadn’t struggled when the hibernation came before—it had come while he was already lying down.
He still hadn’t accepted the fact that he couldn’t even die.
When he heard Hong Yuan’s story earlier at Hong Xing’s grave, it felt like a hand was squeezing his heart and mind.
But he had gotten past it by convincing himself that he would truly commit suicide.
In the story of the past, if Hong Yuan had told him that his wife had lived peacefully, or even forgotten him and remarried, he would have been angry.
But he would have accepted it, given how much time had passed.
After all, he and Hong Xing had only known each other for seven years and had been married for one.
When he vanished, Hong Xing was only 24.
But how could he betray that love and that waiting that lasted a lifetime?
She died waiting in longing to see him again after death.
How could he make her wait longer and remain alive?
And now he found himself forced to stay alive?
How could he accept this?!
How could he do it?!
An hour passed after he regained consciousness before he rose from the dirt.
His body and long hair were stained with dirt and mud.
Then he began walking back toward the city.
It was near midnight.
He walked along the sidewalk, his small, hunched back looking alone and weary under the yellow streetlights.
Few passersby or cars passed him, and anyone out at this hour wouldn’t care about a vagrant unless they were part of a gang involved in human trafficking.
Sure enough, a man who looked to be in his thirties, suspicious in appearance, wearing black clothes and a half-mask, noticed Mo Jiwu walking alone at night.
He began following him from a distance, slowly closing in while scanning the area in case it was a trap set by law enforcement, with the child in front just bait.
After walking a full kilometer, he was sure there were no traps or surveillance around.
He grinned, quickened his pace, and approached Mo Jiwu.
He bent down, placed a hand on his shoulder, and said in a gentle voice, “Kid, where are you heading alone at this hour?
It’s too late for a child to be wandering the streets.
How about you come with uncle to his house and be his guest for the night?” Though his words sounded kind, it wasn’t really an invitation.
His grip on Mo Jiwu’s shoulder tightened, and it was clear he had no intention of letting him go.
Mo Jiwu stopped but said nothing and didn’t lift his head.
He was still thinking about suicide and the promise he made to the man in the cave.
His legs were moving on their own, and he didn’t care where they took him.
From the child trafficker’s perspective, this looked like fear.
A smile appeared on his hidden mouth behind the mask, and his other hand reached for Mo Jiwu’s other shoulder, ready to pick him up and take him back to base.
Unfortunately, Mo Jiwu snapped out of his thoughts and found the criminal beside him.
He hadn’t heard what was said from the beginning and wouldn’t have cared even if he had.
His mental state was extremely dangerous right now.
Immediately, his spirit ring appeared beside him and glowed, showing it was activated.
Without a word, Mo Jiwu grabbed the hand reaching for his shoulder and, with a quick motion, snapped it as easily as breaking a dry tree branch.
“Gaaah, damn it, kid… a Soul Master?
Hey, hey, wait, young Soul Master, this is a misunderstanding, let me—” That was the criminal’s reaction to the broken arm and seeing the spirit ring in front of him, cold sweat pouring from the pain and fear of the small figure before him.
But he didn’t finish speaking before a small fist closed his mouth, shattering his teeth.
“Tell me, why can’t I kill myself?” Mo Jiwu asked calmly as he looked down at the criminal lying on the ground, writhing and screaming in pain, blood pouring from his mouth.
“Wha wha you say?” His speech was slurred from his broken teeth and jaw.
But it wasn’t as if Mo Jiwu was waiting for an answer.
He raised his foot and stomped on the man’s knee.
A satisfying cracking sound added a note to the quiet night.
“Why won’t you let me die?” With another question, the beating rained down like a storm on the man who deserved it for his crimes.
From his actions, he was clearly experienced and not new to this.
He deserved what was happening to him now, but he had chosen the wrong prey tonight.
He had become the prey instead.
The beating lasted a full five minutes before Mo Jiwu stopped and snapped out of his frenzy.
He looked at the pile of flesh in front of him that had once been human and was barely still breathing, then ignored him and continued on his way.
Despite the screaming during the beating, no one came to investigate.
That was because the criminal had chosen this remote, sparsely populated area specifically before making his move.
It had become the cause of his suffering instead.
For Mo Jiwu, once he came to his senses, he adjusted his direction again and kept walking.
He was heading back to the cemetery.
When he passed a public restroom, he went in and washed his hands and face of the blood and dirt he had gathered from his suicide attempts.
Normally he wouldn’t care or even think about it, but he was going to see his wife, and he wouldn’t let her see him in a messy, filthy state.
After cleaning himself, Mo Jiwu continued on his way.
A few hours later, before the sun rose, he entered the cemetery again, less than 24 hours since he had last left.
He walked until he reached Hong Xing’s grave and lay down on it once more.
Within seconds, tears flowed again.
“Wife… I’m sorry.
I lied again and couldn’t keep my promise to come and keep you company today.
And maybe the date for keeping that promise won’t be soon.” Mo Jiwu spoke in a choked voice, curled up in a fetal position as he wept quietly and painfully.
“What do I do now?
… I’m lost.
I can’t even die on my own will, and I have to live even if I don’t want to.
I wish you were here to guide me like before.” Talking to himself quietly revived a certain memory.
It went back to the beginning of his relationship with his wife.
At that time, he was just a failed orphan in his studies, living off the small monthly government allowance.
He didn’t have a single friend he could call close.
Then he met her, and she was just like her name—a star that lit up his life and became his guide in the darkness he was lost in.
His memory returned to that encounter.
After he called himself a failure with no hope, Hong Xing slammed her small hand on the table, stood on the chair, and looked down at him angrily.
“Failure?
What part of you is a failure?
I see a lost person.
Why don’t you believe in yourself a little?
Why don’t you search and find the energy inside you and revive your dream?
Who doesn’t have even a small dream in life?
Life isn’t fair and it doesn’t have equality, yes.
But that’s why you have to find your goal that will push you forward.
A dream will open the path for you, and your will push you to take the first step.
Then you’ll feel relief when you look back at your heart.
Look at the good side and avoid the bad.
You’re in great health, not physically or mentally disabled.
You haven’t even completed your second decade of life.
Why all this talk about failure?
The real failure is having the ability and not using it.” From that moment, he found his dream and his goal.
The dream was Hong Xing.
The goal was also Hong Xing.
Without her, he didn’t even know how he would have lived.
He felt both joy and sorrow remembering how she spoke so poetically.
She was someone who loved composing songs and poems at every opportunity.
Of course, they were later kicked out of the restaurant because Hong Xing had stood on the table… But as he remembered this, Mo Jiwu’s eyes began to slowly light up.
He sat up slowly, lost in thought.
That memory had given him some life.
Of course, he wouldn’t ignore anything related to his wife, no matter how small.
“The good side?
Ability?
A goal?…
Yes… yes!
That’s right!
Why can’t I find a way to bring you back to me?!
This body reverted from an adult to a child and didn’t die for 130 damn years.
How could there not be a way for me to reach you?!
I’ll turn the world upside down if I have to while I search.
Ten years?!
Fine.
I’ll only kill myself after ten years if I don’t find a way.
It won’t be longer than the 130 years I spent in that damn cave with loneliness and pain.” With every word, the light in Mo Jiwu’s eyes grew until his eyes were full of hope as he looked at the gravestone in front of him.
“Thank you again, my little star, for lighting the path before me.
I don’t know what I would have done without you.
Just wait for me another ten years, and I’ll be with you for sure.” Saying this, Mo Jiwu moved forward and gave the gravestone a strong, loving embrace, then stood up and walked away.
He was no longer lost.
He was no longer a boat in the middle of the sea with no destination or port waiting for him.
He had found two goals, not one.
The first was to kill himself in ten years in front of this grave.
The second was to find a way to bring his wife back to him.
After walking a little, the smile vanished from his face and eyes, and his expression returned to its previous blankness.
The depression and emotional numbness from 130 years of loneliness and pain wouldn’t disappear that quickly or easily.
What had just happened was only a spark in a pile of firewood.
It barely lit up, but maybe this spark would be the start of a blaze.
Because of the memories and the new goal, human emotion had suddenly returned to him, but that was the extent of it.
While walking and about to leave the cemetery, he adjusted his direction and left the visitor’s path, heading among the trees.
He activated his martial soul.
His eyes glowed and turned blue, allowing him to see in the dark.
After a while, he arrived at a new grave.
‘Here lies the Lamppost, Hong Xing’s husband.’ That was what was written on the headstone.
It was the grave he had dug himself that morning, marking the end of his life.
Ironically, he had returned before even a full day and night had passed since making the grave.
As he looked at the grave, he focused on the name, or rather the nickname—”Lamppost.” It was the nickname his wife used most among the many she liked to throw at people.
The reason?
Because she was short, barely 1.5 meters, while he was close to 1.9 meters.
It bothered her, even though he always told her he only liked short women.
Of course, by “women” he meant only his wife.
He remembered once when a woman tried to flirt with him after he had rejected her several times.
He had no choice but to send her for a free dinner in a hospital room, very gently, with his hands.
As he looked at the grave, Mo Jiwu sank into memories for a while.
Because of the years of solitude in the cave, he would drown in memories for long periods and create new ones to update his memory and avoid loneliness.
When he came to, Mo Jiwu dug up the freshly made grave and pulled out the plastic bag containing his backpack and personal belongings.
Most importantly, his wife’s gifts.
Normally, clothes and a bag that were 130 years old should have deteriorated, but he had asked for them to be protected in that cave.
That added 30 years to his time in the cave.
Originally, it should have been only 100 years, but because of his request, 30 years were added since the bag and its contents weren’t living things, and protecting them from time was difficult.
It was calculated that every 10 years counted as one year for the bag.
So even after 130 years, only 13 years had passed for the bag, and it wasn’t badly affected since it hadn’t been moved or used much.
He slowly opened the bags, carefully took out the backpack, shook the dirt off the first bag, folded all three, and put them in his backpack to use when needed.
Then he filled the grave back in with dirt, sealing it.
The old him had truly died.
The person now was just half a ghost, waiting for the moment he would die.
He put the large backpack on his small back and began walking toward the cemetery exit.
His exit coincided with the first light of dawn, as if announcing the start of a new life and a new journey.
After leaving and walking a short distance, he stopped.
His face was still like stone, but his mind was confused.
“I promised I’d stay until the ten years ended and search for a way to bring Xing’er back.
But where and how am I supposed to do that?
Everyone I know is dead, and I only have 1,490 credits after buying those sturdy bags yesterday… Should I go to that kid Hong Yuan?
No, I don’t need any connection to this generation of the Hong family… I’ll go east.
Wait!
East?
Why east all of a sudden?” At first, the thought was normal, but suddenly the idea of going east came to his mind out of nowhere.
For no reason, he suddenly felt he had to go east.
When he raised his head to look east, he noticed his eyes were almost activating as he stared at the sunrise.
“My eyes?
No, the eyes of the inheritance damn it.
Are they guiding me east?
Hmm, should I go against them and go west?
No, these are my eyes now.
They won’t guide me to death, and at least I have a destination.
We’ll see where they lead me, then I’ll decide after that.” With that, Mo Jiwu set the starting goal of his journey: east.
He didn’t know where or why, but he would follow east until his eyes led him somewhere.