After the terrifying soul crisis, Shen Li made a firm decision:No more soul rewards. Not for now.
Even if he appeared calm—his body moving, his voice steady—he knew the truth.
Inside, a storm churned.
The only reason he could still inhabit his body… was the fragile balance he'd created.His white soul, the remnant of his human will, had been carefully stretched and wrapped over the ever-expanding black core. It was a delicate veil—a mask of life over death. A thin sheet of warmth hiding a boiling abyss.
And every time he took a soul-based reward from the simulator…That black core swelled.
Someday, he wouldn't be able to cover it.
Someday, his body would see him for what he truly was: a ghost, not a man.And when that day came, rejection would be immediate. Violent. Permanent.
"One more mistake," he muttered, "and I won't return. I'll lose the body… and myself."
So for now, he turned away from the soul path.
Shen Li's only solution to his growing problem was to cultivate his white soul. Drawing from his own experiences, he made a crucial observation: any soul-related construct—like muscles—grew stronger when wounded and allowed to heal. But the risk was immense. If the damage exceeded what the soul could endure, it wouldn't strengthen—it would regress, dragging the mind back to a childlike state.
He already had a method to nourish the soul—Soul Devour—but its yield was too small, and suitable targets were rare.
Instead, Shen Li forged a new path within his cultivation technique. Unlike his ghost days where he could ignore the white soul, his current state depended on it. The white soul acted as a barrier, shielding his black soul from rejection by the living body. If it failed, he would fall fully to the ghost path.
To prevent that, he developed a crude yet effective chapter:White Ash Reforging.
A technique solely focused on inducing shallow, surface-level damage to the white soul, then allowing it to recover and grow stronger.
After the soul crisis settled, Shen Li suddenly recalled a key detail from the simulator: the Shen family's legacy technique—the 34 Silver Needle Method—had been hidden inside a desk, and that desk would soon be sold off.
"I need to get that desk," Shen Li muttered, eyes narrowing. "If I'm remembering correctly, it'll first appear in a furniture shop… and then someone else will buy it. I need to intercept it before that happens. But I can't reveal my identity."
The next day, Shen Li disguised himself.
He wore a wide-brimmed hat and wrapped a long, black funeral scarf around his face—an item usually worn by mourning women. It was an odd sight in public, drawing a few confused glances, but it served its purpose: concealment. Shen Li didn't want to involve others. If he used a proxy, that person could betray him. Better safe than sorry.
He looked at himself in a bronze mirror and sighed.With resignation, he shoved two melons into his robe.
"I really need to learn proper disguise techniques one day," he muttered bitterly.
Shen Li walked through the streets with slow, stiff steps—the shame march, as he would forever call it in his heart.
Dressed in a mourning scarf, breasts stuffed with melons, and posture that betrayed every ounce of his discomfort, he stood out like a ghost at a wedding. Eyes followed him. Whispers stirred behind fans. One little child pointed and asked their mother if that was a "funeral auntie with a beard."
Under the wide brim of his hat, Shen Li's face was burning red. If anyone recognized him—even suspected him—he swore he would pack up everything and leave the city by dawn.
He clutched his robe tighter, head down."This is the last time I do something like this," he whispered through clenched teeth. "For a desk. A desk!"
After what felt like an eternity—but was, in truth, less than ten minutes—Shen Li finally arrived at the furniture shop.
The shopkeeper looked up from his stool, squinting at the odd figure blocking the light from the doorway. At first glance, it was clearly a woman. At second glance… there were chin hairs. Thick ones.
"Aunty," the shopkeeper called out politely, though clearly disturbed, "please don't linger in front of the shop like that. You'll scare the customers away."
Shen Li cleared his throat and forced his voice up a few octaves, trying to sound soft and delicate."I-I'm here to… to buy a desk. For my late husband… may his soul rest well…"
The shopkeeper blinked. Then leaned slightly forward. He still couldn't see the face clearly under the scarf, but the glint of a stubborn beard under the light… it gave him pause.
"This… Nima… if she's married, then what kind of blind and unlucky soul did she snatch?"He forced a smile, keeping his inner judgment to himself.
"Of course, madam. Do you have a particular model in mind? If not, I can show you around."
Shen Li nodded stiffly. "Just a desk. One that can hold my husband's ashes… and maybe a few incense sticks…"
The shopkeeper gestured with a courteous hand."This way then, please. We have plenty of mourning-friendly furniture."
Oddly enough, there was indeed such a thing as "mourning furniture." Shen Li had no clue about the tradition, but the shopkeeper eagerly showed him more than ten models. Unfortunately, none had hidden compartments.
Shen Li kept his expression calm. "My husband used to work with high-ranking people. These seem too plain. Do you have anything… more refined? Maybe something that came from noble families?"
The shopkeeper lit up and brought out a few older desks, explaining their origins. Finally, Shen Li spotted it—the desk. Thick wood, heavy, and engraved with ornate motifs.
"I want this one," he said, pointing.
"Ah, yes," the shopkeeper said, his eyes glowing green with excitement. "This piece is an antique from the Shen family. I can assure you—it's over a hundred years old. Crafted from sandalwood, which is—"
He suddenly stopped. "Well, of course, something like this is hard to price. But if I had to name a number…" He raised both hands—ten fingers.
Shen Li raised an eyebrow. "Ten silver? That's quite a bit more than I expected."
Still, he handed over ten silver without hesitation.
The shopkeeper nodded happily. "Great. My men will dismantle the desk and deliver it to your house."
Shen Li quickly raised a hand. "No need. I'll arrange for someone to carry it whole."
"It might break on the way," the shopkeeper warned. "At least let us remove the legs."
"When you brought it in from Shen family, did you dismantle it?" Shen Li asked.
"Yes, of course. Common practice to prevent damage."
"Then fine—just remove the legs."
Later, the desk was brought to a warehouse Shen Li had rented under his mourning-woman alias. The warehouse owner knew him only as a grieving widow, so there were no risks or loose ends.
After everyone left, Shen Li began carefully dismantling the desk, piece by piece. It took more than an hour, but finally—he found it. A hidden compartment, perfectly concealed. Even touching the surface wouldn't reveal it. The only way to find it was to break the desk completely.
Inside, he found what he had been seeking all along.
A clean, preserved book.
He read the title.
Shen Li gently wiped the dust from the cover. The title, written in elegant brush strokes, shimmered faintly in the dim warehouse light:
"Thirty-Four Silver Needle Method of the Shen Lineage"
He exhaled.
"All that cross-dressing," he muttered bitterly. "All that humiliation… for a damn book."
This victory felt as satisfying as obtaining a first-grade martial art.
After restoring the desk and returning home, Shen Li eagerly began reading the book. At first, his eyes sparkled with excitement—but within minutes, his brows furrowed.
"What the hell is a Ren vein? Or a Yin vein?" he muttered, flipping pages faster.
With each passing line, his expression worsened. "This Nima isn't written in human language!"
The manual was filled with unfamiliar terminology—detailed instructions about inserting needles into specific muscles and veins. But Shen Li didn't even understand basic human anatomy.
Frustrated, he slammed the book shut and threw it into his bookshelf.
"There's no actual teaching in these so-called high-grade manuals," he grumbled. "They just expect you to be some damn scholar-doctor hybrid already!"
Just like medicine, this manual required deep expertise in its specific field. Without foundational knowledge, reading it was like staring at clouds—vague shapes, no meaning.
But Shen Li couldn't let it go. Not after that shameful "mourning woman" act he put on to get the desk. He had swallowed too much pride, risked too much face.
Even if he had to pay a heavy price, he wouldn't give up the benefits this book could offer. No matter what, he would crack its code.
[System Panel — Active]
Name: Shen Li
Race: Human (Soul-Touched)
Lifespan: 17 / 189
[To simulate, enter how many years of lifespan you wish to sacrifice.[Awaiting Input…]
Shen Li took a deep breath and stared at the familiar shimmer of the system panel.
"Let's see… if ten years isn't enough to understand this cursed book, then I'm not worthy of it."
He didn't hesitate this time.
"Ten years."
[Simulation Begins]
[Following a moment of sudden clarity, you resolved to walk the path of medicine. You began actively seeking ways to learn — not street cures or folk remedies, but true knowledge.]
[That same month, as predicted, the wildfire swept through the region. You stayed calm, selling your stockpile of wood and coal once the prices doubled. The timing stirred whispers, but you ignored them.]
[You soon announced that you were stepping away from business entirely to pursue a more "noble" path: medicine. It was the perfect excuse to vanish from merchant circles and silence prying eyes.]
[After weeks of careful networking, negotiation, and a generous bribe of one gold coin, you secured a place as an apprentice to Shen Lang, one of the senior doctors in the Shen family. Though expensive, the opportunity proved invaluable.]
[This apprenticeship granted you access not only to the Shen family's private medical library, but also to real patients]
[This environment significantly accelerated your learning.]
[Year 1][You began your apprenticeship under Shen Lang. Your pace of learning was moderate—nothing exceptional, but consistent. At this rate, becoming a fully-fledged physician would take roughly eight years. Shen Lang didn't criticize you; you were no genius, but you weren't a fool either.]
[Mid-year, chaos erupted in the Shen family. Old Shen awakened from his coma and demanded the return of his desk. The entire household went into a frenzy trying to locate it. You, who held the secret, stayed utterly silent.]
[Despite a widespread search, the book was never recovered. The frustration worsened Old Shen's health. Fearing the technique inside might fall into the wrong hands, the family began investigating local doctors and their treatment methods.]
[Year 2][You finally built a solid medical foundation. You could now identify common ailments like cold fevers and even write basic prescriptions.]
[Knowing what was to come, you couldn't sit idly. The bandits would strike this year—and when they did, the Shen family's library would be in danger.]
[You shared your warning with Shen Lang. At first, he was skeptical. But when you presented your past trading records, clearly timed with prior bandit movements, he began to believe you had a real source.]
[The Shen family elders, however, dismissed your claim as absurd. They refused to evacuate.]
[As foretold, the bandits attacked. You had already stocked supplies and prepared a hidden shelter within the city.]
[With help from an insider, the bandits breached the gates. The massacre was swift and brutal. The local garrison crumbled. Governor Shin led his men in defense, but the onslaught reached deep—trade centers and even the inner circle were caught in the bloodbath.]
[Three powerhouse families eventually united their forces and fought back. But you knew better than to join the chaos. You waited patiently, hidden in silence. To act too soon would have been suicide. Only in the days to follow would it be safe to move—and to profit.]