A sensation of indescribable comfort instantly spread from my limbs to every pore of my body. Hu Bugui leaned close to my ear and slowly said, "Have a sleep." For some reason, I felt I ought to obey him and just sleep, though there was a slight discomfort beneath my skin, it didn't stop me from drifting off.

"Mmm," I murmured vaguely, succumbing to drowsiness and falling into a deep sleep.

When I woke again, the scene on the floor startled me greatly. By the bedside, the ground was teeming with tiny, dark brown insects. Their slender legs crawled slowly; I had no idea where they had come from, and they had even covered the quilt. While I wasn't the type to turn pale at the sight of a mere caterpillar, this spectacle was undeniably eerie.

Thankfully, Zhuoma Yangjin and Hu Bugui were both there. The two were donning dark gloves and placing the tiny beetles from the floor into that so-called Fangyuan Ding.

"Yangjin," I called out, and was shocked to find my voice full of vigor, not at all like my previous near-lifeless state. I flinched, "This... this..." My brain felt as if it had been freshly reinstalled, perfectly clear, like a brand-new car straight from the factory, ready to speed off joyfully at any moment.

Zhuoma Yangjin looked up at me, momentarily stunned, her expression unreadable—neither happy nor sad. Hu Bugui turned and saw me, visibly delighted. "You woke up so quickly. I wasn't wrong about you." With that, he pulled off his gloves, handed them to Zhuoma Yangjin, and told her to put them on and add a few more bugs to the Ding; he needed a word with me.

I was utterly bewildered by my current robust condition, sitting foolishly on the **. Hu Bugui walked over, smiling at me, "You're up. You're not the patient anymore."

I tentatively moved my arm, and sure enough, it worked perfectly, filled with immense energy. Yet, those little bugs were still on the quilt, making me deeply uncomfortable. Hu Bugui was quick to read my expression; before I could even fully formulate the thought, he had swiftly found my slippers and pulled back the covers, urging me to get up. This gesture, in turn, made me feel a bit sheepish.

Hu Bugui wanted to speak with me on the balcony. I glanced at Zhuoma Yangjin; there were faint traces of tears in her eyes. Her lips moved as if to say something, but seeing Hu Bugui, she stopped herself. She definitely had something on her mind, but I decided to wait and talk to her later.

Hu Bugui was truly a peculiar man; he seemed to be able to read minds. As soon as we stood on the balcony, he immediately said, "You must be wondering right now why Zhuoma Yangjin has that look on her face, wanting to speak but holding back."

I paused, then felt a surge of competitive spirit, "How can you be so certain? Though what interests me most right now is the reason for my own condition."

Hu Bugui looked at me meaningfully, teasingly, "You've probably already guessed seven or eight parts of your own situation; asking me now is merely for verification. But her—she's a woman. There's nothing in this world harder to fathom than a woman."

I deliberately chose not to follow his lead and didn't ask what Zhuoma Yangjin was thinking. I only asked him, "Is that Ding of yours used to refine these little bugs?"

Hu Bugui didn't press the issue, replying gently, "Yes. This Ding has some history, but now is not the time to tell you about it. Just know that it drew out all the insects from your body. Also, Luo Lian, I know you still have some childish tendencies, but you are no longer the former Luo Lian. Your body now holds much memory of the Guge Kingdom—memories you picked up beneath Fuxian Lake. You must use them to help Eighty-Seven and Zhuoma Yangjin find what they seek."

The moment I heard the word "Guge," numerous scenes instantly flooded my mind—unfamiliar Tibetan people and various life scenarios—yet they felt strangely familiar. This must be what Hu Bugui meant about my own situation. Indeed, ever since Tang Minghao nonsensically mentioned things like the white-robed people, I had a vague dread that I might become like him. Especially after coming out, I felt an overall unease, though I couldn't pinpoint exactly where. I lived in constant apprehension. This feeling intensified after Eighty-Seven and the others found me, but seeing that I appeared perfectly normal, I dared not confront the reality of it.

Upon waking just now, my first thought confirmed my previous suspicions. Naturally, I didn't feel scared; it seemed as if these memories were innate, something I was born to possess.

Hu Bugui waited quietly while I processed this for a while, then added, "Zhuoma Yangjin has always feared that after removing the bugs from your body, you would become cold-blooded and regard her with disdain. That is why she's been overthinking. You must understand this?"

I nodded, and an inexplicable sharp pain pierced my heart, a very acute pain.

Seeing me like this, Hu Bugui sighed, saying aimlessly, "The two of you... why must it be like this! Why!"

I knew he meant why Zhuoma Yangjin and I were playing this guessing game instead of stating our feelings clearly to each other. But that pang of pain just now was because my mind was perfectly clear that there was no future for her and me, which caused such agony.

I pretended nothing was wrong and forced a smile. "It's nothing. Speaking of which, you said all the bugs on the floor just now came from my body?" As I said this, I thought I should probably express surprise that so many insects had been inside me, yet I couldn't manage the look of astonishment. It seemed as if they were always meant to emerge from the very blood vessels of my body.

Hu Bugui nodded affirmatively, "Yes. These are the bugs attracted by the blood spring water. You must have been injured down there and immersed in the blood spring water."

I immediately recalled injuring my left hand when encountering the Great King Fish, and then jumping into that pool to save Geng Wei. Later, Yanzi had to wave something near my nose to wake me up. So, this was the source; I hadn't considered that.

Suddenly, Hu Bugui fell silent, studying me intently for a moment before speaking again, "The bugs are out now, and you've escaped the fate of having your brain devoured by them—that's a good thing, perhaps. However, the extra memories you possess were also left behind by them. I don't know if you like them, but anyway... well... you go ahead. I won't harm you, and Zhuoma Yangjin certainly won't harm you."

My intuition told me Hu Bugui was no ordinary person. The things in my head were not just memories that felt innate in the present; there seemed to be something else making me smarter—yes, much smarter. Setting everything else aside, just looking at Hu Bugui, my gut instinct screamed that he must have an extraordinary background, unique in all of heaven and earth. "Forgive my presumption, but who are you?" I asked.

Hu Bugui answered calmly, "My origins are something you wouldn't believe even if I told you, so let's not bother. Then, after a pause, he changed tack, "I have a connection with Zhuoma Yangjin and the others, one that's hard to define. Only the High Priest knows. I myself detest such entanglements and don't wish to discuss them with anyone. If you're interested, you can ask the High Priest."

His response only piqued my curiosity further, but it was clear he was unwilling to elaborate.

So, I didn't press the matter further.

Inside the house, Zhuoma Yangjin had already covered the Fangyuan Ding and was sweeping up the insects on the floor with a broom. I watched her, still feeling a pang of sadness, a sense of sorrow. Some things are fate; knowing the outcome yet throwing oneself into it wholeheartedly, like drinking poison for thirst. This was her attitude toward me—but what about me toward her? Did I love her? It seemed not, yet why did my heart ache so?

Hu Bugui said to me, "She is truly a brave girl. Although she is of noble birth, she puts on no airs." The implication was clear: why wasn't I, Luo Lian, fighting for her?

I gave a bitter smile. Just as their High Priest had once said, it was destined that we could not be together.

Hu Bugui sighed, a flicker of pain crossing his eyes again. "Luo Lian, you must know, sometimes, living too long is a lonely thing. Especially when you live for others."

I didn't quite grasp his meaning. "Are you saying you?" Surely not; he looked so young, perhaps thirty-five or six, a perfect age.

Hu Bugui shook his head and immediately laughed, "I was just speaking casually. But perhaps it's true; I promised my beloved that I would live on, even if it means being lonely. I've grown accustomed to it." He spoke so lightly, so effortlessly.

I firmly believed there must be a desolate, sorrowful story behind him, but this was likely not something he wished to reveal, nor was it something I felt inclined to pry into. Even if all his outward splendor concealed only loneliness and unbearable hardship, I would pretend everything was fine.

As for Hu Bugui, I trusted that he arrived when he was meant to, and once he completed his task, he would leave immediately, without lingering a second longer.

Indeed, just like now, he gave me another cryptic line: "Everyone you've encountered were failed experiments—including the faceless demons, the cocooned people beneath the Guge ruins, and the white-robed figures at the bottom of Fuxian Lake. They were all just test subjects. Someone lost the most crucial recipe for immortality, so they kept experimenting on them."

Before I could fully process this, he smoothly walked back into the house, picked up the Fangyuan Ding filled with the little bugs, cradled it to his chest, and bid us farewell. "Take care, both of you. I must be going."

Just as I was about to call him back, Zhuoma Yangjin had already opened the door and seen him out.

"I had so many questions for him," I said to Zhuoma Yangjin with a slight tone of reproach. She ignored me, calling for Wang Mu and the others to come in and thoroughly clean the house. She then made some arrangements, making it feel somewhat like a home.

The current Zhuoma Yangjin was clearly forcing a cheerful facade. The calmer she was, the more my heart ached. We were about to head to the Grand Canyon; she insisted on coming with us, but I felt a deep sadness, as if either I or she might die at any moment—the ending would certainly not be happy.

Perhaps it would be better if I died; that way, I could be spared many worldly sorrows.

However, Eighty-Seven gave me little time for melancholy and wistfulness. He said Tang Minghao had arrived, and since I was back to normal, preparations should begin immediately for the journey to the Grand Canyon.