Chapter 112: The Stranger’s Confession

The next morning, after eating his rations for breakfast, Verlin began searching inside the cottage.

From dawn until noon, he turned the entire house upside down, using his senses to probe beneath the surface, but found nothing.

“Could it be that the things were taken away?”

Beneath the house at No. 76, Third District, Landor City, Kurze Province, lay a book written by a foreigner. Verlin recalled this clearly, then stood up and looked at the dilapidated courtyard.

“Find a shovel and start digging. I refuse to believe it can’t be found.”

He went out to a nearby market, buying enough provisions for three days, some lamp oil, and a sturdy shovel. After sealing the door, he began digging inch by inch.

Three days later, in a deep pit, Verlin, shirtless, tossed the dirt aside and looked up, now about twenty-five or twenty-six meters below ground. He felt somewhat discouraged.

“Three days as a miner and no discovery at all—this is truly frustrating.”

The entire area beneath the cottage was nearly hollowed out, yet there was no clue to be found.

“Clang.”

“Hard.”

Verlin dug a few more shovels worth of earth and discovered a hard layer beneath the soil. Squatting down, he tapped it carefully and realized it was a rocky shell, clearly not naturally formed.

“Looks like it’s just below this.”

He tried to chip away at the rock with his shovel, but it didn’t budge—the rocky surface remained intact.

Seeing this, Verlin threw down his shovel and climbed quickly back to the surface.

His red-furred horse stirred at the noise, opened its eyes upon recognizing its master, snorted, and settled back into the hay to sleep.

Ignoring his mount, Verlin entered the house again, retrieved his knight’s sword from a pile of dirt, bit into a piece of black bread, then returned to the pit and leapt down.

“If I can’t dig it open, I’ll just break it.”

Drawing his knight’s sword, he struck the rocky shell repeatedly, using the faint light to guide him.

After an unknown length of time, he finally shattered three meters of rock. Holding his sword in one hand and his lamp in the other, he jumped down further.

Suddenly, a bright light illuminated the space.

Verlin moved the sword away from his eyes and looked around. The area was vast and empty. About thirty meters away stood a stone pillar, atop which floated a shimmering, multicolored bubble. Inside it rested a book and a strange object resembling a key.

Step by cautious step, Verlin approached the pillar, wary of any surprises. Covering the short distance of thirty or forty meters took him half an hour.

“May I ask, is your homeland flat?”

In an instant, the scene shifted. A ghostly figure, its face indistinct, floated before Verlin and asked the question.

“Flat… no.” Verlin recognized the familiar dialect of his homeland, shook his head, and quickly replied, “My homeland is round.”

“May I ask, who likes married women?”

The spirit’s chest lit up with a glowing heart, its features becoming clearer as it posed another question.

“Cao… the traitor Cao, I suppose,” Verlin answered cautiously.

The spirit’s second heart glowed, then it asked, “How many characters are in Dream of the Red Chamber?”

Verlin’s eyes widened in disbelief—who could possibly know the exact number of characters in that book?

“I don’t know.”

He gave up thinking and answered bluntly.

The two hearts on the spirit’s chest suddenly extinguished. In the next moment, the entire spirit flared brightly, as if about to explode.

Verlin tried to retreat but found himself immobilized.

“Ha ha ha.”

Just as despair set in, a strange laughter echoed.

“Greetings, unknown compatriot. By the time you see this scene, many years may have passed.”

The intense light faded. When Verlin looked around again, he found himself back in the cave, but now accompanied by a handsome young man, whose smile was somewhat sly.

“Who are you?” Verlin asked cautiously.

“I guessed you’d want to ask that,” the spirit replied without answering directly.

“You answered two questions, which means our eras are not far apart.”

“My magic here can last up to thirty thousand years before dissolving on its own. Since it has activated, it means our times differ by no more than that.”

“I don’t know your true nature, but your refusal to answer the third question suggests you’re of decent character.”

“However, if you had forced yourself to answer the third question, you might have seen another vision of me—though there would be a reward for that.”

“I am about to leave this world and journey to the stars. Before I go, I wish to leave something behind, though I do not know if it will be triggered.”

“The first thing you saw upon entering was the spatial bubble. Had you failed the first two questions, you would have been lost in spatial turbulence. But since you see me now, congratulations—you passed the test!”

Verlin wiped the cold sweat from his brow as he glanced at the bubble less than a meter away. He had come close to losing his life here.

“Now, to the point: inside the bubble are two items.”

“One is a book titled The Druid’s Tome, a creation of mine. After all, one of the three legendary professions I mastered was the Druid. Don’t envy me—I know you’re surprised, but hold your astonishment until I finish.”

“This book contains some of my philosophies, magical knowledge, and insights on cultivating plants.”

“As you know, with the passage of so much time, some plants may have changed, so I have left you only knowledge.”

“The other item is a key. What it unlocks, I cannot tell you now. I stole it from an avatar of an outer god—I do not know if that deity has fallen or if followers still wander the world, endlessly searching for this item’s whereabouts.”

“But rest assured, the key is a fake—surprised?”

The young man’s tone shifted suddenly, leaving Verlin momentarily stunned.

“That thing is actually a seed. Yes, you heard that right. It takes roughly three hundred years for this seed to grow fully and bear fruit. If you survive, you will be immensely powerful, enough to become a legend.”

“If you die, it’s no matter. The seed will remember the first living being it touched. When that being dies, the seed withers, ensuring this secret remains forever hidden.”

“That’s all. Do you have any questions?”

Verlin looked at him calmly and said nothing.

“Ha ha ha. I believe you realize this is just a recording. Perhaps you will foolishly ask questions, but sadly, you cannot see the original scene.”

“As for my name…”