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  Han Ye woke up from his sleep, drenched in sweat. His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling as though he had just escaped from the jaws of a beast. His mind was clouded, but one thing was clear—this all started when he saw that book.

  That book called to him, whispering, urging him to open it, read it, understand it.

  He wiped his face with his trembling hands. "Hah… calm down. Not everything can be explored or uncovered. I should focus on reaching First Arc: Qi Gathering properly."

  Yes, he had already reached the First Arc in just a week. His father had taught him how to gather Qi, and he had progressed at a pace that defied all logic. Normally, even with the help of pills and Qi-gathering arrays, it would take at least three months. But he had done it in mere days.

  He should have been proud.

  But ever since that book entered his life, he could not rest.

  No matter how much he trained, how much he tried to distract himself with the cn’s archery techniques, he could not shake the feeling that something was watching him.

  Something inside that book.

  He had modified the Han cn’s archery technique to suit himself, incorporating elements of wind and darkness. It felt natural to him, as though his body instinctively knew how to use these elements in harmony with his arrows.

  But even then, it was not enough to distract him from the pull of that cursed knowledge.

  His hands moved on their own, pushing himself up from the bed. The room was dark, but he did not need light to see. The Qi within him made his senses sharper, allowing him to perceive his surroundings with crity.

  He turned his head toward the corner of the room.

  The chest.

  The book was inside. Locked away. Sealed.

  Han Ye clenched his fists. He should not touch it. His father had warned him. He had seen what happened to those who sought knowledge too greedily.

  But…

  What harm could it do to just look at it?

  Not read. Not open. Just look.

  Before he realized it, he had already moved to the chest. His fingers traced the sacred talismans. They were warm, pulsing faintly with energy. His father had reinforced the seal, but to Han Ye, it almost felt fragile.

  With a deep breath, he pced his hands on the lock.

  He channeled a thin thread of Qi through his fingers.

  The lock clicked open.

  The moment the chest was unlocked, the air in the room grew heavy. A dark, oppressive presence seeped out, unseen yet unmistakable. Han Ye’s heart pounded as he lifted the lid.

  There it was.

  The book.

  Its cover was made of a leather-like material, ancient yet strangely untouched by time. The edges were lined with dark gold inscriptions, shifting ever so slightly as if they were alive.

  Han Ye felt something stir within him.

  A whisper, just like before.

  "You have come back."

  His breath hitched.

  His body moved before his mind could stop it. His hands reached out.

  The moment his fingertips brushed the cover—

  KRAK!

  Pain.

  A searing, mind-numbing pain shot through his entire body, as if something inside the book had shed out at him.

  Han Ye staggered back, his vision blurring. His knees buckled, and he colpsed onto the floor, gasping for breath.

  His hands trembled violently, his fingertips burning as though they had been branded. He looked down, and his eyes widened in horror.

  There were marks on his skin. Strange, twisting patterns, darker than ink, etched into his fingertips and spreading toward his wrists. They pulsed, moving like living things.

  His heart pounded against his ribs.

  This was bad.

  Very, very bad.

  The whisper returned, soft yet mocking.

  "You are not ready."

  Then, silence.

  The oppressive air vanished, and the room returned to its normal state. But Han Ye could still feel it. The marks on his skin did not fade.

  He stumbled to his feet, his breathing uneven. He needed to hide this. If his father saw—

  "Han Ye."

  A voice called from outside.

  His father.

  Han Ye's body tensed. He quickly grabbed a cloth and wrapped it around his hands. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself before stepping toward the door.

  As he opened it, Han Zhe stood there, his sharp eyes scanning him.

  For a moment, neither of them spoke.

  Then, Han Zhe's gaze shifted ever so slightly—to the unlocked chest behind Han Ye.

  Han Ye swallowed hard.

  "Did you open it?" Han Zhe's voice was low, dangerous.

  Han Ye forced himself to stay calm. "No, Father. I just… I couldn't sleep and wanted to check on it. But I didn't touch it."

  Lies.

  Han Zhe knew. His instincts screamed at him.

  His son was hiding something.

  But instead of pressing further, he merely sighed. "Come with me. We need to talk."

  Han Ye hesitated but nodded. "Yes, Father."

  As he followed his father out of the room, he clenched his wrapped hands tightly.

  He had made a mistake.

  And he had a feeling he would soon face the consequences.

  “My son… why did you open the chest?”

  Han Zhe’s voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable weight behind it, like a bde resting just above Han Ye’s throat. His piercing gaze bore into Han Ye, demanding an answer.

  Han Ye clenched his fists, feeling the unnatural burn of the dark marks hidden beneath the cloth. He knew he was caught, but instead of cowering, he took a deep breath and met his father’s gaze.

  "I should be the one asking you, Father. Why did you leave it outside?"

  Silence.

  Han Zhe raised an eyebrow, but his expression remained unreadable. "Are you bming me for your own recklessness?"

  Han Ye shook his head. "No. But if the book is so dangerous, why not seal it in a more secure pce? Why not destroy it?"

  His father’s fingers twitched slightly—just for a fraction of a second. If Han Ye had not been watching closely, he would have missed it.

  That hesitation.

  That fear.

  Han Zhe exhaled slowly, crossing his arms. "Because it cannot be destroyed. Not by conventional means."

  Han Ye frowned. "Cannot be destroyed?"

  Han Zhe nodded. "Not by fire, nor by sword, nor by Qi techniques. That book is older than you can comprehend, older than this nd itself. I brought it back from my travels thinking it was just another artifact, another relic to be studied. But I was wrong."

  His gaze darkened. "I lost good men to that book, Han Ye. Warriors stronger than you, schors wiser than I. And now… you have touched it."

  Han Ye’s breath hitched. His mind raced back to the whisper, to the pain that had seared through his body the moment his fingers brushed against the cover.

  His father’s voice dropped lower, more cautious. "Did it… speak to you?"

  Han Ye hesitated. He should lie. He should deny it. But something told him his father would see right through him.

  So, he nodded.

  Han Zhe closed his eyes for a long moment, then exhaled sharply. "Foolish boy… you’ve already been marked."

  Han Ye tensed. His fingers instinctively curled against the cloth wrapped around his hands.

  "Show me."

  His father’s words left no room for argument.

  With a quiet sigh, Han Ye unwrapped the cloth, revealing the dark, twisting marks that had burned into his skin. The moment they were exposed, the air in the room grew heavy, the markings pulsing faintly like veins filled with liquid shadow.

  Han Zhe’s face hardened. His sharp eyes flickered with something unreadable—worry? Anger? Fear?

  "How deep did you look?" Han Zhe’s voice was a whisper now.

  Han Ye swallowed. "I didn’t open it. I only… touched the cover."

  His father studied him for a long time, then reached into his robe and pulled out a small jade talisman. He pressed it against Han Ye’s wrist.

  The moment the jade touched his skin—

  SIZZLE.

  A burning sensation erupted from the marks, like molten fire coursing through his veins. Han Ye gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out, but his body trembled under the pressure.

  The talisman glowed brighter. Han Zhe watched carefully, waiting for something.

  Then, just as suddenly as it started, the glow faded.

  Han Zhe frowned. "It’s dormant… for now."

  Han Ye let out a shaky breath. "What… what does that mean?"

  His father pced the talisman back into his robe. "It means the book has acknowledged you—but it has not yet consumed you. That is both a blessing and a curse."

  Han Ye’s stomach twisted. "Consumed me?"

  Han Zhe’s expression darkened. "The ones who read too deeply into the book… they are never the same again. Some lose themselves entirely, their minds shattered beyond repair. Others become something else—something inhuman. The fact that you can still think clearly means you have not fallen into its grasp."

  Han Ye’s blood ran cold.

  He had always been drawn to knowledge. His past life had been one of logic, of curiosity, of seeking answers. But never before had he feared knowledge itself.

  Yet now, standing before his father, feeling the lingering sting of those cursed marks, he understood.

  Some knowledge was not meant to be known.

  Han Zhe exhaled heavily. "From this moment on, you must never touch that book again. Do you understand?"

  Han Ye hesitated, but nodded. "I understand."

  It was a lie.

  A necessary one.

  Because despite the warnings, despite the fear…

  He needed to know what was inside.