The system says there are no ghosts.

It was already past midnight when I got back to the dormitory.

Chen Yi pushed open the door and entered the room. Old Zhang's snoring next door continued, coming from the other side of the wall, as rhythmic as some kind of never-ending machine.

He closed the door and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Ah Qi floated by the window, his figure appearing exceptionally thin in the moonlight. He was much fainter than before he went to the spiritual vein; the edges of the gray mist had become blurred, and his features were not as clear as before. He floated there, like a wisp of mist that could be blown away by the wind at any moment.

"That's enough for today," Ah Qi said. "I have to go to work tomorrow."

"Um."

Chen Yi lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

The light from the spirit lamp shone through the window and fell on the wall, flickering intermittently. The small red light on the ceiling was still monitoring the concentration of spiritual energy in the room; it was a pitifully low 0.1.

He closed his eyes and tried to sense the spiritual energy.

The blurry path deep within his consciousness was still there. He followed it, trying to find the feeling he had just experienced in the spiritual vein.

There was nothing there.

There was only darkness, only silence, and the sound of my own heartbeat.

He opened his eyes.

"Can't sense it?" Ah Qi asked.

"Hmm," Chen Yi said, "I can't feel anything."

"That's normal," Ah Qi said. "The spiritual energy concentration in the dormitory is too low, only one percent of that in a spiritual vein. During the initial stage, you must cultivate in a place with abundant spiritual energy. Only after you've mastered the basics can you sense spiritual energy in a normal environment."

Chen nodded.

He looked down at his hands. In his psychic eyes, a faint gray light flowed across them—traces left by the soul's journey. Like a thin layer of mist, it clung to his fingers, appearing and disappearing.

"I can still feel you," he said.

Ah Qi was stunned for a moment.

"What?"

"When I was transmitting the cultivation technique," Chen Yi said, "I could sense your memories. Not see them, but feel them. It was like something was still in my consciousness."

This feeling was hard to describe. It wasn't a picture, nor a sound, but a deeper kind of touch. It was as if something was connected to his consciousness, and through that invisible thread, he could feel Ah Qi's presence.

Ah Qi's expression became somewhat complicated.

"That's the seed of the cultivation technique," he said. "The Azure Cloud Heart Sutra is currently in your consciousness, intertwined with your memories. It's normal that you can sense it."

Chen Yi remained silent for a while.

"Are those memories real?"

"What?"

"Your master's memories," Chen Yi said. "Among the things you passed on to me, are there any memories of your master?"

Ah Qi did not answer immediately.

He floated there, gazing at the moonlight outside the window, his expression somewhat dazed.

"...Yes." He finally said, "The Qingyun Heart Sutra wasn't created by me; it was passed down to me by my master. He learned it from his master and then passed it on to me. Now I'm passing it on to you. This thread has always been there."

Chen looked at him.

Ah Qi's eyes were a little red, but he quickly looked away.

"Don't overthink it," he said. "Go to sleep. You have to go to work tomorrow."

Chen Yi closed his eyes.

At first, he thought he couldn't sleep. His mind was filled with too many random thoughts: missions, reports, those wandering souls, Ah Qi, cultivation techniques, spiritual energy... these words swirled and churned in his head. And then there was the 0.6 spirit stone cost of the flying sword, which was 0.1 more than the mission reward.

But for some reason, he fell asleep very quickly.

After falling asleep, he had a dream.

In his dream, he stood in a void, surrounded by endless darkness. Something was twinkling in the distance, like stars, or perhaps some kind of radiant light.

Then he saw a person.

An old man sat in a dilapidated thatched hut, turning the pages of a yellowed ancient book by candlelight. The old man was thin, his face was full of wrinkles, but his eyes were bright.

Chen couldn't see the old man's face clearly, but he could sense his concentration. As the old man flipped through the ancient books, he was muttering something to himself, as if he were reciting or deep in thought.

Then the screen changed.

The old man raised his head and looked to the side.

A young man stood there, quietly watching the old man.

"Master," the young man said.

"Hmm." The old man closed the ancient book. "Are you ready?"

The young man nodded.

The old man stood up and walked over to the young man. He reached out and tapped the young man's forehead.

Chen Yi felt a faint light flash by, and then he saw the young man's body tremble slightly.

"Alright." The old man withdrew his hand. "The seed has been planted."

"Master," the young man asked, "what is the name of this exercise?"

The old man remained silent for a while.

"Let's call it the Azure Cloud Heart Method," he said. "It signifies soaring to great heights. I hope that those who inherit this technique will all achieve great success in the future."

The young man nodded.

The old man's eyes were complicated, as if he were looking at something very distant.

"I'm passing this training method on to you," he said. "From now on, it's a part of you. Practice it well, and don't let it down."

The young man's eyes were very determined.

"I will."

The old man smiled and patted the young man on the shoulder.

"Go."

Chen Yi could sense the old man's feelings. It was a very complex feeling, like relief, yet also like anticipation. He had passed on his life's work, like planting a seed and then hoping it would sprout, grow, blossom, and bear fruit.

The image disappeared.

Chen Yi woke up from his dream to find the sky outside the window already beginning to lighten. Morning light streamed through the curtains, bathing the room in a pale grayish-white hue.

He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

That dream wasn't his dream. It was Ah Qi's memory. Or rather, a memory from the lineage of the Qingyun Heart Sutra. The old man passed it on to the young man, the young man passed it on to Ah Qi, and now it's been passed on to him.

This line has never been broken.

He turned to look out the window.

Ah Qi floated there, his figure appearing even thinner in the morning light. The edges of the gray mist were almost transparent, and his features were blurred and indistinct. He sat there, motionless, as if in a daze.

But he's still here.

Chen Yi didn't speak, but just lay there quietly, watching A Qi's figure appear and disappear in the morning light.

The world outside the window continued on. In the distance came the footsteps of early-rising cultivators and the roar of flying swords activating. A new day had begun.

Today, he is going to work.

That evening, he also wanted to go to the spiritual vein.

He wanted to go tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and every day thereafter.

But he also had a headache: how could he possibly spend his meager savings on flying swords to destroy abandoned spiritual veins every night? How many days could he possibly afford to squander them?