Mu Feng was on the verge of collapsing, his vision blurring and darkening at the edges. Su Yuqing quickly steadied him. "Hold on. I’ll get you out of here."
"Wait..." Mu Feng forced himself to point at the Secret Color Porcelain. "That bowl... there’s something wrong with it..."
"I know," Su Yuqing said in a low voice. "It causes a Mystic Pupil Bearer’s abilities to spiral out of control. That is exactly what Master Xu San was after."
Mu Feng’s heart skipped a beat. "You... how do you know that..."
Before he could finish his sentence, his strength failed him, and he slumped against Su Yuqing’s shoulder, unconscious.
When he came to, Mu Feng found himself lying in an unfamiliar bedroom. His headache had dulled significantly, though his eyes still felt intensely sore and strained.
"You’re awake?"
Su Yuqing’s voice drifted from the bedside. Mu Feng turned his head to see her sitting in a chair by the window, reading—the very same blue-bound ancient book in her hands.
"Where is this?" Mu Feng asked, his voice raspy.
"My guest room," Su Yuqing said, closing the book. "You’ve been unconscious for six hours."
Mu Feng struggled to sit up. "That Secret Color Porcelain..."
"It’s safe. I’ve had it sent to a laboratory for analysis," Su Yuqing sighed. "Master Xu San has fled, but the police are already tracking him."
Silence fell over the room. Mu Feng stared at the book in Su Yuqing’s hands and asked directly, "That book says, 'When the Mystic Pupil appears, chaos descends upon the world,' right?"
Su Yuqing’s hand trembled, and the book slipped to the floor. As she bent down to retrieve it, Mu Feng reached out and grabbed it first. The book had fallen open to a page featuring a drawing of a pair of eyes—the exact shape of the birthmark on his own body.
"I knew it," Mu Feng said with a bitter smile. "Has the Su Family been searching for a Mystic Pupil Bearer all along?"
Su Yuqing bit her lip. "Not searching... monitoring." She looked up, meeting Mu Feng’s gaze. "Every Mystic Pupil Bearer in history has eventually... lost control. They either go insane or vanish."
Mu Feng felt a chill run through him. "What does that mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like," Su Yuqing’s voice trembled. "The Mystic Pupil’s power grows stronger until it eventually consumes the user. My grandfather’s generation saw one such bearer, and in the end... he gouged out his own eyes."
Mu Feng felt his whole body grow cold. That explained why his headaches had been increasing in frequency and why his vision had been growing so blurry.
"Is there a solution?" he asked urgently.
Su Yuqing hesitated for a moment before pointing to the page in the book that had been torn out. "Legend says there is, but the content on this page was torn out by my great-grandfather sixty years ago."
Mu Feng nearly cursed out loud. Was this a dead end?
"However," Su Yuqing added suddenly, "I found a mention in our genealogy of a place—Guanfu Studio at the foot of Qingcheng Mountain. It’s possible the full records are hidden there."
Mu Feng’s eyes lit up. Having a lead was better than waiting to die.
"Thank you," he said sincerely.
Su Yuqing shook her head. "Don't thank me yet. There is someone behind Master Xu San, and they have a keen interest in Mystic Pupil Bearers... especially for live experimentation."
Mu Feng immediately thought of the line that had appeared on the Secret Color Porcelain: *“Seeing the truth brings both fortune and disaster.”* Was this a blessing or a curse?
Outside the window, the setting sun bathed the room in the color of blood. Mu Feng realized that he had been pulled into a struggle far more complex than mere treasure appraisal.
The next morning, Mu Feng complained, "This wretched mountain path is going to cripple me!"
He kicked a pile of loose stones out of his way, his t-shirt soaked through with sweat. In this godforsaken place of Qingcheng Mountain, the GPS had given up halfway through, and he and Su Yuqing had been wandering the woods for two hours.
"Almost there, just around the bend ahead." Su Yuqing remained energetic, wearing her hiking boots like she was walking a runway, without even a bead of sweat on her.
Mu Feng narrowed his eyes and peered ahead, his Mystic Pupil activating automatically. Through the dense forest, he could faintly discern the silhouette of an old estate. But as he looked, his head buzzed, and a flood of fragmented images flashed before his eyes: gray brick walls, copper locks, and a pair of blood-red eyes...
"Damn it!" He grabbed a nearby tree trunk, nearly dropping to his knees.
"Did it flare up again?" Su Yuqing quickly rummaged through her backpack. "Painkillers..."
"No need," Mu Feng gestured. "Something is wrong with this place. I ‘saw’ something."
Su Yuqing paused. "What... what did you see?"
"I can't quite describe it. It's like fragments of memory," Mu Feng said, rubbing his temples. "What exactly is this Guanfu Studio?"
Su Yuqing did not answer directly but asked instead, "Did you ever visit Qingcheng Mountain when you were a child?"
Mu Feng froze. Having grown up in an orphanage, he had no childhood travel memories. Yet, strangely, the further he walked, the more hauntingly familiar the mountain path felt.
"Never mind that for now," Su Yuqing whispered. "There’s a small town ahead. We need to replenish our supplies."
Only then did Mu Feng notice the quaint, ancient-looking town at the foot of the mountain. Both sides of the bluestone street were lined with shops selling local goods and antiques, bustling with tourists.
"There’s a tourist area in a place like this?"
"Qingcheng Ancient Town. It was only developed in the last two years." Su Yuqing pulled him toward the town. "Remember, don't use your Mystic Pupil recklessly. This place is..."
Before she could finish, Mu Feng gasped. His Mystic Pupil had automatically locked onto a vendor’s stall on the street corner. The stall was piled with scrap metal, but to Mu Feng, one rusted copper pot was radiating a blinding golden light!
"What is it?" Su Yuqing asked, alert.
Mu Feng lowered his voice. "Three o'clock, that copper pot... it’s at least from the Tang Dynasty!"
Su Yuqing followed his gaze and frowned. "Are you sure? I know that vendor. He’s Old Hu, a notorious con artist in this area..."
Mu Feng was already striding over. The vendor was a wrinkled old man puffing on a pipe, bragging to some tourists: "This was the very chamber pot used by Lady Yang Guifei..."
"Boss, how much for this copper pot?" Mu Feng picked up a broken bowl from the side.
Old Hu’s eyes darted. "Young man, you’ve got a sharp eye! This bowl is actually..."
"Cut the crap," Mu Feng interrupted. "I’m asking about the copper pot."
Old Hu’s expression stiffened, then he offered a oily smile. "That one? Five thousand!"
The nearby tourists chuckled. A piece of scrap metal like that wasn't even worth picking up off the street, and he wanted five thousand?
Mu Feng smiled. "Fifty."
"What?" Old Hu nearly choked on his smoke. "You’re a ruthless haggler!"
"Just fifty," Mu Feng said, taking out his wallet. "If you don't sell it, I’m leaving."
Old Hu’s eyes rolled around. "Two hundred! Not a penny less!"
Mu Feng made as if to walk away.
"One hundred! One hundred, fine!" Old Hu scrambled.
Mu Feng turned back slowly and handed over a hundred-yuan bill. As Old Hu took the money, he suddenly leaned in and whispered, "Young man, I can tell you know your stuff... I have something else good here..."
He pulled a dirty cloth bundle from his chest and opened it carefully. Inside was a jet-black seal.
Mu Feng’s Mystic Pupil stung instantly! In his eyes, the seal looked like a miniature sun, the light it emitted nearly blinding him! Even more bizarrely, the base of the seal wasn't carved with text, but with an eye pattern—identical to the birthmark on his back!