Chapter Eleven: The Secret in the Valley (Part One)

Biller was dead.

All the blood in his body had been drained by bloodsucking bees; his corpse lay sprawled on the ground, shriveled like a weathered mummy.

This was the first time Gong Hao had witnessed someone die before his very eyes.

Whether in his previous world, or this one.

And the manner of death was so tragic.

He wanted to vomit—a powerful nausea welled up from the depths of his being. But he could only stand there and watch, forcing himself to endure the sickening feeling, pretending as if nothing had happened.

Biller lay on the ground, eyes wide open; even in his final moments, he couldn’t understand why the bloodsucking bees had attacked him.

Andrew’s expression was dark as well.

He gazed at the corpse within the iron cage, then picked up the bottle of insect-repellent and sniffed it a few times.

Brow deeply furrowed, Andrew said, “There’s something wrong with this bottle. It seems someone diluted it with water, weakening its effects.”

“The potion, Biller got it from Zack,” Gong Hao cast a glance at Zack, who stood not far away.

With such an incident, Andrew had arrived; the two stewards would certainly not fail to show up as well.

Zack shouted in anger, “Grail, don’t talk nonsense! Why would I give him faulty medicine? I’d say you’re the one who got Biller killed. Don’t forget, only you and he were here when it happened!”

“Zack, I never said you diluted the potion. I simply stated that Biller took the potion from you—isn’t that correct? All resources are managed by you and Caesar; no one else is allowed to store or handle these things. Do you think Biller would have stood by and watched me tamper with his potion after he got it?”

“I…” Zack opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He stared at the body in the cage, the fear in his heart growing ever stronger.

Andrew fixed his gaze on Zack. “Tell me, Zack, what exactly happened?”

Zack lowered his head guiltily, “Lord… Lord Andrew…”

“Tell me the truth.” Andrew’s tone grew ever more severe.

“My lord, I truly didn’t mean it!” Zack cried out.

Hearing this, Gong Hao couldn’t help but sigh deeply. After all, Zack was still young; faced with a death, he hadn’t yet learned to withstand an adult’s interrogation under such psychological pressure.

The matter was actually simple: Zack had accidentally spilled some insect-repellent and lost half a bottle. Since the castle’s rules for using and storing potions were strict, Zack didn’t want to tarnish his image in Andrew’s eyes, so he took it upon himself to dilute the potion with water. In his mind, it wasn’t a big deal—the diluted repellent still worked, as he’d tested himself, just less effectively. But he never expected it would lead to such dire consequences.

The irresponsibility of youth revealed itself in that moment—covering one mistake with another, thus creating a greater error. This is almost a universal experience for all young people in their journey of growth.

Yet the problem was… this was Purgatory Island.

This was not a place where mistakes could be allowed.

Andrew looked at Zack as if he were already a dead man. “Zack, you’ve disappointed me greatly.”

Zack trembled in fear.

Andrew said coldly, “From today onward, you are no longer steward. At the end of this month, I will have you leave here and go to a new place for your work.”

“Yes… yes, my lord, I understand.” Zack nodded helplessly.

Gong Hao closed his eyes.

He knew that from this day on, he would never see Zack again.

Even though Zack had just tried to shift the blame onto him, it was merely a flustered child’s attempt to shirk responsibility after making a mess. Such behavior might merit a good thrashing, but it should not warrant disappearance.

“Shu Yi Grail.” Andrew’s icy voice called again.

Gong Hao gathered his thoughts. “My lord.”

“From this day forward, you shall take Zack’s place as steward. Caesar will focus mainly on deliveries and personnel management, while you will be responsible for monitoring the progress of the servants’ work and submitting evaluations. I know you often help others and your work has always been exemplary; I think this position suits you.”

Gong Hao was momentarily stunned.

He wasn’t surprised to be made steward. After all, steward and servant were not much different—the title meant little, as Zack’s fate made clear. They were all lowly servants, just one leading the rest.

But to be in charge of checking the servants’ progress… That meant from now on, if anyone performed poorly, he would have to record it and report to Andrew.

In other words, the fate of the young servants would now be in his hands?

Gong Hao quickly lowered his head and said, “Yes, Lord Andrew. I will do my best.”

“Very good.” Andrew nodded in satisfaction. “Caesar, there’s a vacancy in Area Forty-Two. Arrange someone to take over those duties. Before the newcomers arrive next month, someone must fill the post.”

“My lord, let me take charge of Area Forty-Two,” Gong Hao interjected.

“You?” Andrew was a little surprised. “You already do a lot.”

“Trust me, my lord—I can handle it.”

Andrew nodded approvingly. “Very well, I’ll leave it to you. Oh, and I heard you’ve successfully cultivated the Blood Orchid. That’s quite an accomplishment. Starting next month, you needn’t be solely responsible for Area Thirteen anymore. Besides your steward duties, you may choose your own assignments in the other areas. I hope you can contribute as much as you did with the Blood Orchid. I’ll have the Freedom bring a new recruit to replace you in Area Thirteen.”

“Thank you for your guidance, my lord.”

“Thank your own efforts instead. Caesar, fetch another bottle of repellent and get that boy’s corpse out of there,” Andrew ordered, pointing at the body.

“Yes,” Caesar replied, hurrying to retrieve the potion.

A thought struck Gong Hao. He said to Andrew, “My lord, Biller was a good friend. His death grieves me deeply. Please, allow me to bury him myself.”

Andrew shook his head at once. “No, you needn’t concern yourself with that. I’ll see to his burial personally.”

Gong Hao’s heart pounded violently. “Then, my lord, may I at least accompany him on his final journey?”

Andrew gave Gong Hao a strange look, then nodded after a moment’s thought. “Fine. Drag the corpse out, then carry him and follow me.”

————————————————

Night was cold and desolate.

Walking along the narrow path in the wilderness, only the rustle of footsteps crushing fallen leaves could be heard; all else was silence.

On Purgatory Island, the nights were always impenetrably dark. Thick mist blocked the moonlight, and all around was blackness so dense you couldn’t see your own hand.

The light from the magic lanterns, contained by the barriers, did not escape even a trace. The moment one stepped beyond the castle, one was swallowed by darkness.

A faint glow rose from his palm—the soft light of a glowworm. It wasn’t bright enough to attract attention from afar, but it allowed Gong Hao to make out the path at his feet.

Even so, he had lost count of how many times he had stumbled.

If he hadn’t cultivated battle energy, the sharp grass blades of the woodland might have left him covered in cuts.

Still, the darkness of night had its advantages—it made his movements safer.

Gong Hao didn’t know what drove his persistence.

He already had a strong suspicion of the terrifying reality unfolding on this island. Yet perhaps, out of a desperate desire to live, he hoped he was wrong.

But whether right or wrong, he needed to see it with his own eyes to confirm the truth.

For that, he was willing to risk everything, sneaking out on this night to see for himself.

During the day, he had carried the corpse, following Andrew all the way.

The direction was east.

To the east lay a forbidden valley, off limits to the servants.

When they reached the valley, two puppet warriors stood guard. Andrew had him set down the corpse, then sent him back.

The path was far from easy; several branches wound off the road to the valley. During the day, Gong Hao had deliberately taken a wrong turn and was harshly scolded by Andrew: “Do you want to die? Watch your step and follow me, you fool!”

Gong Hao immediately understood: all the side paths were traps.

“Left.”

“Right.”

“Straight.”

“Left.”

There were countless forks here; clearly, the Empire had gone to great lengths in constructing these defenses. Yet no matter what Andrew might have thought, one trip was all Gong Hao needed to memorize the layout.

At the fourteenth fork, Gong Hao stopped.

He remembered clearly: even on the correct path, there were still traps.

One was a sound trap.

Step on it, and if your weight exceeded seventy pounds, it would trigger an alarm. The sound wasn’t loud, harmless during the day, but at night it would alert the guards that someone was sneaking into the valley.

It was an unavoidable trap; anyone stepping on it would set off the alarm—simple, but effective.

Once past this fork, he would enter the valley.

Gong Hao calmed his mind, focusing all his energy into his feet.

Lancelot had taught him to channel battle energy into his arms. Though that was only one of countless applications, the principle was the same: like a chef practicing slicing ginger—as long as you can slice ginger as fine as a hair, you can slice anything else.

If energy could be channeled into the arms, it could certainly be channeled into the legs—Gong Hao had already mastered this.

The only difference this time was that he didn’t need to amplify his offense or defense, but to lighten his own body as much as possible.

Different needs required different methods; Gong Hao pondered carefully.

Yes, releasing battle energy meant concentrating power on the surface of a limb—an intensification of force. Use that on your feet, and you’d only become heavier, not lighter.

It had to be internal, Gong Hao realized.

Releasing and containing energy were the two most basic applications for a warrior. Lancelot had not taught him the latter, but he had said one thing: understand one principle, and you’ll understand a hundred.

Gong Hao quickly grasped the subtlety. Could he reverse-engineer the process of releasing energy?

He quieted his mind, gathering strength between his core and legs, circulating energy within, and tried to lift his body upward, creating a strange sensation of weightlessness.

He knew he had succeeded.

Without further hesitation, Gong Hao darted toward the fork in the path like a gust of wind. The sound trap did not trigger—he reached the mouth of the valley unscathed.

So smooth was the process that even he was surprised. But on reflection, the reason was clear.

When first learning to release battle energy, he had struggled: first, because he was a novice, unfamiliar with controlling energy flow; second, because what is taught by others is never as profound as what one discovers oneself.

Containing energy was, in essence, no different from releasing it—just the opposite in method. Since he had found his own way, the result would be either total failure or instant success.

And once Gong Hao understood how to contain his energy, his mastery of it quickly surpassed that of releasing energy.

Because this was truly his own understanding, something grasped with both body and mind.

This realization filled Gong Hao with joy.

The path of the warrior was still long, but with this experience, he believed that even without a great teacher, he could carve out a bright future for himself. If everyone in the world required a master to succeed, progress would stagnate.

The truly strong always go farther than those before them…

At the mouth of the valley, the two puppet warriors stood guard as always.

Touching the badge on his chest, Gong Hao gritted his teeth and strode forward, resolute and unafraid.