Chapter Five: Washed Clean of All Adornments

When Chu Yocai emerged from the brutal and bloody trial, returning from the world within the Alligator Dragon Mountain and River Pearl to the ship’s cabin, dusk was already falling.

Though a year had passed within the cultivation trial, only a little over an hour had elapsed aboard the ship. The Alligator Dragon Mountain and River Pearl had not created a mere illusion for his sacrificial offering of a year of lifespan; instead, it transported him to a real world of glaciers. If he had died there, it would have been true death.

The cruelty of that glacial world was unbearable to recall.

He drew a sharp breath, clenched his fists at his abdomen, pivoted on his toes, then swung a single palm—his palm sliced through the air like a blade, breath following the motion, his body coiling like a dragon, the strike making the air itself tremble.

His palm landed on a plank of wood in the cabin, a finger-thick slab, which split cleanly in two. This was Feathered Dragon Wood, exceptionally hard; an ordinary man would have swollen his hand with a single blow, let alone shattered it.

In this moment, Chu Yocai’s gaze was as dark as ink, his bearing as sharp as a blade—he was like a seasoned warrior, the scent of blood and slaughter clinging to him from countless battles survived.

For a whole year in that blood-soaked trial, he had subsisted on the raw blood and flesh of Glacier Great Bears. These beasts were the sovereigns of the icy expanse, the only creatures there free from poison. Their meat was foul and gamy, and only after dozens of washings and a full day in the sun could he barely force it down.

It wasn’t that he did not wish to leave that bear-infested glacier. He knew well that the nearby, seemingly peaceful icefields—teeming with reindeer, cold fish, and wild geese—were in fact unimaginably perilous. He could not risk his lifespan for such a gamble. Not unless he possessed magic or the scholarly aura to slay Death Crocodiles, Blood Butcher Leopards, and Carnivorous Blood Worms in a single blow.

Naturally, the Glacier Great Bears were far stronger than ordinary men. Even with traps and poisons, as a mere mortal, Chu Yocai could not guarantee victory or survival every time.

Over the course of a year on that glacier, he suffered more than a hundred serious injuries—each one was a brush with death.

This, in truth, was why no mortal had ever passed the trial of a Brocade Treasure-level cursed artifact.

But Chu Yocai was deeply versed in medicinal lore. The snowline harbored many deadly herbs, but also miraculous ones capable of saving lives. The remedies he’d learned in a past life at the medical academy, those that could rescue the critically ill, were all present on the glacier.

Thus, though he hovered at the edge of death, he persisted, growing ever stronger.

In a single year of cultivation within the Alligator Dragon Mountain and River Pearl, he fed upon the precious Glacier Great Bears—rich in spiritual energy—which tempered his body immensely. A year inside was equivalent to five or six years of training for an ordinary man on the Loulan Continent.

And a year’s worth of life-and-death battles transformed him into a cold-blooded killer, capable of exploiting the tiniest flaw in an opponent. Yet the loneliness of isolation nearly drove him mad. If not for his unwavering resolve to protect Yun Cuixian, he would likely have perished long ago.

He was utterly exhausted.

But now, he had survived the trial, forging the “Alligator Dragon Palm” to the point where it radiated killing intent within a year. This was the foundational requirement for the Alligator Dragon Technique, and the standard for passing the trial.

At this moment, as he sensed the changes within his body, a bloodthirsty gleam surfaced in Chu Yocai’s eyes.

Those who dared covet his wife, who schemed to trap him—Wang Hai—and the arrogant thugs from the gambling house, it was time to send them all to hell.

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After glancing around the cabin and finding nothing amiss, Chu Yocai noticed that the shattered Alligator Dragon Armor had vanished, likely absorbed by the inner world of the Alligator Dragon Mountain and River Pearl.

He tucked the pearl into a jade pendant at his chest, wrapping it carefully. The pendant was strung with celestial silkworm thread—tough as iron, beyond the reach of blade or spear.

Opening the door, he saw Wen Ruoxu standing on the nearby deck. Upon seeing Chu Yocai emerge, Wen Ruoxu visibly relaxed and approached him. “Third Young Master,” he greeted. His gaze flickered to Chu Yocai’s empty hands and swept over the room, noting the absence of the tortoise shell. Shock flickered across his face.

Could the Third Young Master possess an immortal treasure, one that could hold the vast within the tiny?

He was about to speak, but upon meeting Chu Yocai’s gaze, he paused.

Fresh from a world of icy death and relentless slaughter, Chu Yocai’s presence was now like a sharpened blade. Wen Ruoxu felt a chill run through him, unable to meet that gaze.

Inwardly, Wen Ruoxu was in turmoil.

He had, in the past half-day, inquired widely about the Third Young Master, learning that he had incurred the wrath of the Lady of the Prince’s Residence, set up his own household, and accumulated debts of a thousand silver taels—so much that he was near to selling his wife. Yet to witness him in person, with augury skills, perhaps immortal arts, perhaps holding a treasure that could contain the vast within the minute, and now with such piercing eyes—Wen Ruoxu, no matter how slow, realized that Chu Yocai must be a man enduring humiliation, a hidden dragon biding his time.

Suddenly, Wen Ruoxu thought of himself. Always clever and quick-witted, adept at any art or craft—music, chess, calligraphy, painting, song and dance—yet he relied too much on these talents, neglected practical matters, and eventually fell into poverty. Even the simple act of selling fans had been done without thought for moisture, leading to his current ruin.

The Third Young Master called him clever yet unfortunate, but that was an overstatement.

A few failures had left him so dejected, yet this Third Young Master, despite dire straits, showed no fear—his will was iron, his actions bold, indifferent to scorn or praise. Compared to him, Wen Ruoxu felt deeply ashamed, small and insignificant.

In this moment, enlightenment dawned in Wen Ruoxu’s heart. He took out the golden hairpin from his breast and said, “Your gift, Third Young Master, I am unworthy to accept. Your heart is as vast as the world, mine not a fraction so. For the lessons you have imparted by word and deed, I vow to repay you one day.” As he spoke, the setting sun cast a golden glow on his face.

Chu Yocai accepted the hairpin and, after walking some distance, looked back to see Wen Ruoxu still standing straight at the edge of the ship, his figure like a sharpened sword.

A surge of emotion swept through Chu Yocai. He had regarded Wen Ruoxu as an ordinary merchant, treating him with various stratagems, yet the man had taken no offense, and instead found awakening in the exchange. Truly, when one is able to cleanse away vanity, the world itself opens wide.

In that instant, the killing intent upon him softened, turning into a gentle rain. His thoughts shifted swiftly—his current priority was to strengthen himself rapidly, slay ghosts and fiends to earn more years of life. Wang Hai, though odious, was ultimately a pawn, not guilty of great evil. If his little sister were here, she would surely beg him to spare Wang Hai’s life.

With that, his resolve settled.

Effortlessly evading those tailing him, he soon found himself near the gambling house.

In the distance, the gambling house was ablaze with lanterns and raucous with revelry.

Suddenly, he overheard a conversation behind him: “That Wang Hai is truly heartless, abandoning his wife and spending his days in drunken debauchery.”

“Yes, I hear his daughter’s been gravely ill for days, yet Wang Hai hasn’t been home even once…”

“What a shame…”

Chu Yocai paused, turned, and asked the two old men, “Does Wang Hai live nearby?”

They pointed to a low wall in a nearby alley, sighed, and walked off.

“So Wang Hai’s home is so close to the gambling house, yet he hasn’t cared for his sick daughter all this time?” An angry flush spread across Chu Yocai’s face.

Following the alley, he entered past the low wall.

A heavy, medicinal odor hung in the air, unmistakably from cheap herbs.

He heard faint sobbing from inside—a sound full of pain and despair.

He called out, asking if anyone was home. No one answered, so he gently pushed open the door. In the dim room, a mother sat weeping beside a straw bed where a pale, nearly unconscious little girl lay.

Hearing the door, the girl whispered weakly, “Mother, is Father home?”

The middle-aged woman looked up, startled at the sight of Chu Yocai. “You are…?”

With a glance, Chu Yocai saw the child’s pallor, her emaciated frame—clear signs of malnutrition and exhaustion. The room was destitute, the quilt on the bed little more than rags.

“Such a Wang Hai…” Chu Yocai seethed. “The hateful have their pitiable side, but Wang Hai, garbed in brocade and python-patterned shoes, abandons his wife and daughter to this—he’s no longer worthy of being called a man!”

Anger surged in him.

He reached into his breast, drew out the golden hairpin carved with dragon and phoenix, and pressed it into the woman’s hand, his voice low. “Hire a doctor and get some medicine.”

He left without looking back, unable to bear the sight of the frail girl.

From a distance, he heard the mother’s soft words, “Lier, you must be strong. Your father isn’t coming home, but as long as we have each other, we’ll get through this.”

The girl whispered, “Was that a big brother just now? Mother, can you tell me what he looked like? When I grow up, I’ll repay him well.” Her voice faded with each word.

“He was a very handsome big brother, a good man who brought us hope. Lier, you must remember to thank him in the future…”

“Yes, I feel as if my body is floating out, as if I can see that big brother…”

“Lier! Lier!” The mother cried out in panic.

But Lier seemed to hear and see nothing, no matter how frantic or torn her mother’s voice became.

Until at last, from that most inconspicuous corner, a scream of utter despair rang out. Yet, no matter how piercing, it failed to disturb the bustling gambling house, nor the throngs of revelers lost in their pursuit of wealth and vice, oblivious and unrepentant.