Siheyuan: tomb robbing? I am serious about hunting.

Chapter 1031 Start over

He propped himself up on the bamboo couch, pushing himself up into a sitting position. The movement strained his back muscles, sending a distinct ache. Looking down, he saw he was wearing a moon-white brocade robe, its collar embroidered with a cloud pattern woven with silver thread—a custom-made outfit he'd spent three hundred gold ingots on in-game, called "Cloud Flow." The tiny ink dot on the cuff was a deliberate dyed "unique mark" he'd applied during a livestream. The girl chuckled, her voice as clear as a wind chime. "Sir, have you been drifting off from sleep? Who else in Misty Rain Town's Peach Blossom Village would dare sleep in the rain?" She pointed the tip of her umbrella at the corner of the courtyard. "Yesterday, you said you were waiting for the rain to stop to pick peach blossoms and make wine for Granny Zhang in the south of the city." Shen Yan looked in the direction she pointed, his heart tightening as if by an invisible hand. The thousand-year-old peach tree in the corner of the courtyard blocked out the sun, its branches almost reaching above the bamboo couch. Pink and white petals, shattered by the rain, formed a thin layer on the bluestone slabs, making them soft to step on. A crooked "Yan" character was carved into the tree trunk. It was carved when his game character reached level 37, commemorating his "first defeat of a bandit"—he'd even boasted about it during his livestream, saying it was a way to "leave a name in the martial arts world." The splashing water dampened the hem of his brocade robe. He knew that from the moment he stepped into this rainy drizzle, the game world where he could reload and restart his game was completely gone. What lay ahead was a brutally real martial world. He touched the jade pendant at his waist, and the cool touch calmed him down a bit. At least, he understood the plot better than anyone else in this world—perhaps this was his only advantage. The rain continued to fall, and the peach petals were blown all over the sky by the wind, like a grand and eerie farewell. Shen Yan watched Ye Jingfeng's retreating figure and clenched his fists. No matter where he was, he would survive. Not only for himself, but also for the little girl in Taohuawu, holding an oil-paper umbrella and waiting for him to come back. After all, there is no way to reload the game this time. The moment Shen Yan's fingertips touched the bronze mirror, a familiar prompt sound suddenly rang in his mind - not the system sound in the game, but the WeChat prompt sound he set himself, a light piano piece. He suddenly touched his chest, his fingertips passed through the fabric of the brocade robe, and touched a cold and hard object. Taking it out and taking a look, Shen Yan's pupils suddenly contracted - it was his mobile phone that should have burned when the main chassis exploded! The screen was cracked with spider-web-like patterns, and there were traces of burnt black on the edges, but it was actually lit at this moment, showing an unread message from an unknown sender, with only one line of words: [Welcome to the real world]. The phone felt cold to the touch, with the unique coldness of metal. The light from the screen reflected in his shocked pupils, with a faint blue hue. Shen Yan instinctively turned on the screen and found that the battery level was still at 3%, the signal bar was empty, and the time was frozen at 17:37 AM—the exact moment he lost consciousness. "Young Master Shen?" Ye Jingfeng's voice was filled with impatience. "You dare to hesitate against the leader's orders?" Shen Yan looked up suddenly, meeting the leader's masked eyes. There was no programmed indifference in them, only a deep, searching gaze, as if examining an intriguing toy. He suddenly remembered the words from the game's loading screen: "The journey through the martial arts world is long, every step a choice." But this wasn't a game. He looked down at the bronze mirror in his hand, the patina of its veins causing a subtle pain on his fingertips. He looked up at the leader, seated high in the main seat. The white jade chess piece on his fingertips was still gently turning, its cracks faintly visible in the candlelight. His phone was still burning in his palm, the message "Welcome to the Real Jianghu" burning like a brand, making him panic. "Why me?" Shen Yan heard his own voice echo through the hall, with a composure that surprised even himself. The leader didn't seem to expect him to ask that. He raised his eyebrows beneath his mask and said, "Because you're a descendant of the Shen family." Shen family? Shen Yan's breath hitched. The character introductions in the game never mentioned "Shen" as a surname. He had always assumed "Shen Yan" was just a codename. "The last Saintess of the Soul-Separating Sect also had the surname Shen." The leader's voice was more meaningful. "Do you really think that your declining sect was destroyed simply because of its lack of strength?" Ye Jingfeng suddenly stepped forward, the whip in his hand making a harsh sound on the ground. "Leader, there's no need to waste time talking to him." "No problem." The leader raised his hand to stop him, his gaze returning to Shen Yan. "If you want to know the truth, go to the Qingfeng Sword Sect. Remember, you have to hand it over to Elder Su personally. It won't work if someone else does it for you." Shen Yan clenched the bronze mirror in his hand. The touch of the cool metal made his chaotic thoughts a little clearer. He didn't know if this was a new plot trap, whether Elder Su would unleash his ultimate "Qingfeng Sword Technique" the moment they met, as he did in the game. And he didn't know what secrets lay hidden behind this half-broken bronze mirror. But he knew he had no choice. His phone's battery continued to dwindle, 36%, 35%... like a countdown. This wasn't virtual currency, like in a game, that could be topped up at any time, but the actual passage of time. He looked up at the mist outside the hall, where the cliffs and bones of Broken Cloud Peak lay hidden, hiding the unreloadable death. "Good," Shen Yan heard himself say. The leader smiled, his lips curving beautifully beneath his mask. "A wise choice. You can take a look at the files in the west wing first." Ye Jingfeng snorted coldly and turned to walk out, clearly dissatisfied with the outcome. Shen Yan followed him, glancing back as he passed the main hall entrance. The leader remained seated in the main seat, spinning the white jade chess piece faster, its cracks flickering in the candlelight, a reflection of his current mood. The door to the west wing was made of pearwood, carved with a pattern of entwined lotus flowers. As Shen Yan's fingertips brushed against the carvings, he could feel the wood's grain and fine burrs. The room was filled with the faint scent of ink. The bookshelves against the wall were filled with thread-bound books, their spines neatly inscribed. "Southern Frontier Poison Scripture," "Western Region Weaponry," "Jianghu Sect Examination"... many of them were secret manuals I'd only heard of in the game, never seen before. A file lay on the desk by the window, bound with a dark red silk ribbon. The cover was inscribed with the four seal characters "Secret Records of the Soul-Separating Sect." Shen Yan's fingertips trembled as he untied the ribbon. He knew that once he turned this page, he would never be able to return—to the game world where he could reload and restart, to the "inkstone" where he could command the world in his livestream. Outside the window, the rain had stopped at some point, and the mist gradually dispersed, revealing the blue-gray mountains in the distance. Shen Yan looked down at the handwriting on the file. The ink was still wet, as if it had been freshly written. The first line of words shocked him: "The Shen family of the Soul-Separation Sect has guarded the Soul-Separation Jade for generations..." The phone rang again at this time, the screen lit up, and the battery level showed %.