Heh, I see the brothers reading the book have sharp eyes; they sense every rise and fall in the plot. However, Baili must specifically state here that while the emergence of the Zifu (Purple Mansion) caused a bit of a stir, if everyone thinks about it differently, no matter what the Zifu looks like, its essence is merely a piece of "field." It is just a platform for growing "crops," which is the core of this book, and it absolutely won't spiral into baseless wish-fulfillment. Baili gives a solemn guarantee: the farmlands must be cultivated; the strength of the protagonist in The Purple Mansion will grow bit by bit. Hope everyone continues to vote in support! －－－－－－ It was astonished to discover that within this boundless void of gray mist, a floating island of gray rock had already manifested.

This floating island was composed of numerous pieces of incredibly hard, gray stone. The ground of the island was rugged with peaks and valleys, spanning exactly one li in circumference. Beneath the island was a forest of jagged, sharp rocks.

The island consisted only of gray stone, utterly barren and devoid of life. Far beyond the island's perimeter remained only the heart-stopping expanse of endless gray mist and vast emptiness.

It was overjoyed and immediately drifted toward the island. The sensation was akin to a sailor who had been adrift in the endless sea for ages suddenly encountering a habitable isle, causing a frenzy of delight as it propelled itself forward.

It arrived and stepped onto the island. An immediate, solid sense of grounding filled its being, and it jumped for joy, savoring the contentment. This place felt like home; it no longer had to drift aimlessly in the void like a rootless duckweed.

At the center of the island stood an ancient, rustic stone stele, about one zhang high and three chi wide. It seemed the stele had existed since the very formation of the island, fused with it seamlessly. This stele was enveloped by a halo of light, spanning nearly one zhang outwards, resembling a large, spherical bubble of water.

For some unknown reason, the stele radiated a profound sense of security.

A thought stirred within it. It drifted over and easily plunged headfirst into the light-bubble, revealing the inscriptions upon the stele.

There were lines etched upon the stone, looking like cracks from the sundering of heaven and earth, yet also resembling carved characters. The script was archaic, vigorous, and profound; the meanings were obscure and difficult. Yet, strangely, it understood the meaning of the characters at a single glance.

Reading from top to bottom, left to right, the inscription read:

Master of the Mansion: Ye Qin Domain: One li radius. Perfect and flawless. Mansion Attribute: Wood Master's Five Element Spiritual Roots: Metal 20, Wood 20, Water 20, Fire 20, Earth 20. Master's Lifespan: Initial lifespan 81 full years. Lifespan increase: 0 years. Lifespan consumed: 15 years, 1 month, and 29 days. Remaining lifespan: 65 years, 11 months, and 1 day. Master's Fortune: Heavenly Secret Master's Destiny: Tribulation

As it "stroked" the markings on the stele, its heart jolted, and countless roars echoed in its mind. Memories flooded back like a tidal wave; it finally recalled everything from its past.

Ye Qin!

Wasn't it Ye Qin?

It seemed it had been gathering herbs on a mountaintop, consumed a gray egg retrieved from an eagle's nest, and then arrived in this endless void. How bizarre—why was it in such a place?

What was this floating island called the Zifu?

And how could it leave?

Was this all a dream? If so, the dream had become exceedingly long.

As these thoughts took hold, fatigue washed over it, and a strong drowsiness descended, causing it to drift into a heavy sleep. －－－－－ Ye Qin felt suffocated! It was as if something had imprisoned him, robbing him of breath.

“Aah~!”

He simply couldn't hold it in any longer. Struggling desperately, he summoned all his strength and punched forward violently, striking a solid wall. With a sharp kacha, his fist punched a hole the size of his own fist through the barrier.

A rush of fresh, cold wind immediately poured in from the outside.

He greedily sucked in great draughts of air.

“I was suffocating!”

Ye Qin forcefully broke through the material enveloping his body and crawled out.

On the mountaintop, the sky remained pitch black.

The faint moonlight barely illuminated the summit, allowing him just enough sight to make out his surroundings.

The scene before him stunned him. Beneath a massive boulder lay a human-shaped cocoon, large enough to house a fifteen-year-old, fashioned from withered grass, twigs, ash, crushed stones, and mud—utterly bizarre.

He had just punched a hole in that sturdy grass cocoon and crawled out.

He had been wrapped up in that strange thing?

No wonder he felt so choked; it had taken immense effort to break free.

He seemed to have just experienced a strange dream, dreaming of arriving in a peculiar void, and the floating island.

Ye Qin sniffed his body. His short tunic was smeared with sticky mud and dry grass, and he reeked of a strange, musty sweat. He pulled off some dry grass clinging to his face and hair, then quickly fumbled in his large herb basket for a waterskin, dousing himself from head to toe to wash his face and body clean.

The cool water made his small frame shiver, waking him completely and bringing all the night's events into sharp focus.

First, eating the eagle egg, being poisoned by an unknown substance, his stomach twisting in agony, then having that bizarre dream—the endless void, the gray mist, the dangerous Zilei (Purple Lightning), the floating island, the Natal Primordial Spirit Stele—he remembered every detail of the dream, followed by waking up and wriggling out of the cocoon.

Ye Qin rubbed his stomach. Regardless of everything else, at least the potent venom was no longer acting up; his life should be safe. As for that strange dream, he couldn't comprehend it and decided not to dwell on it. There was no need to unsettle his mind over a mere dream.

The sky was still dark, and the wind howled sharply on the cliff face.

Ye Qin crawled under the great rock, relaid some grass, curled up, and fell into a deep sleep.

The next day, as the sky brightened and the sun began to rise.

Ye Qin stared gloomily at the pile of herbs before him.

After cleaning his large herb basket in the morning, he laid out the medicinal materials to dry and discovered that the rare, small green grass was missing.

He vaguely recalled that when his stomach hurt last night, he seemed to have grabbed a stalk of grass from the basket. But he couldn't remember which one. He supposed he must have eaten that small green grass to counteract the poison.

He couldn't help but feel a pang of regret.

That small green grass was probably worth at least one silver leaf, equivalent to three or four days' worth of gathering.

However, thankfully, the rest of the herbs were fine.

Ye Qin carefully re-evaluated the value of his gathered herbs, concluding they were worth about three to four silver leaves. This meant he had already completed three-fifths to four-fifths of this month's gathering quota. It seemed he would manage to complete the task for the month normally, with perhaps a little surplus. He wouldn't need to risk his life venturing into dangerous areas to gather herbs for the remaining time.

That morning, he didn't go out to forage. Instead, he found an open, flat rock on the mountaintop, spread out all his herbs, and let them bake in the sun. Most of these herbs had already withered; drying them would prevent mold and spoilage, making them easier to store, and significantly lighter in weight.

While drying and inspecting the herbs, Ye Qin was not idle.

He leaned against the shaded side of a rock and sat down, pulling out the thin mental cultivation manual, the Zuo Wang Jing (Scribings on Sitting into Oblivion), which he had obtained long ago as a gathering apprentice from the Herb Hall. He began reading it with keen interest. Ye Qin had formed a habit of reviewing the incantations daily before meditating.