His face, the color of dust, strained as he rose, a tremor running through his limbs. He surveyed his prison, a small, natural grotto, where beams of nascent sunlight speared through the opening, illuminating a gruesome tapestry of avian and beastly remains.

Behind him, etched into the rock, was a maw of darkness, no larger than a clenched fist. Its depths swallowed the light, concealing whatever mysteries lay within. A grim understanding dawned upon him. The sudden, ravenous pull he’d felt upon his descent must have originated from this very aperture. The scattered bones were testament to others who’d shared his fate, devoured by the chasm below and spat into this grim haven to die.

The force seemed to rise and fall in unpredictable waves. Only the chaos of his fall, the violent impact, had saved him from the same fate. Wang Lin, for that was his name, fought back the throbbing agony in his right arm. As he prepared to venture towards the light, the skeletal graveyard stirred, a silent tide ebbing towards the shadowed maw. Without hesitation, Wang Lin threw himself to the farthest corner, seeking refuge in the rocky crevices.

In that instant, an unimaginable vortex of power erupted from the stone, an invisible beast unleashed. The bones of the fallen creatures clattered and scraped as they were dragged towards oblivion. Some, too large to pass, became gruesome decorations, pinned against the rock, their forms grotesquely contorted.

Yet, even such resistance could not quell the force. A hapless bird, caught unaware at the cave mouth, was yanked inward with terrifying speed. A sickening thud echoed through the grotto as it shattered against the stone, painting the wall with its lifeblood.

An hour crawled by, marked only by Wang Lin’s shallow breaths and the unnerving silence. The pull abated, leaving only the mangled corpse as a reminder. Paralyzed by fear, he remained still, the gears of his mind slowly turning, counting the seconds.

Thirty minutes. That was the key. Then the ravenous pull returned. He endured it through the cycle of one full hour. Now Wang Lin knew, the maw slumbered for thirty minutes, then woke for sixty, each cycle a gamble against annihilation.

During one blessed period of calm, he staggered to the opening, the pain in his arm a constant companion. One glance at the world below brought a bitter smile to his lips. A forest of emerald and jade, interwoven with treacherous, jagged spires of stone. A cliff, sheer and unforgiving, and an injured arm rendered him unable to descend safely. The bottom was no less than tens of meters; death a sure thing if he fell.

His satchel, containing meager rations, remained atop the precipice, a cruel taunt. Food was now his most pressing concern. Wang Lin retreated, hugging the wall and taking care to shield himself in the space he’d made there.

The sun arced across the sky, and as twilight began to paint the world in shades of purple and grey, Wang Lin could feel his strength fading. His arm was numb, dead to sensation. Trapped, he thought, he would simply starve. Jumping was simply exchanging hunger for sudden death.

His eyes fell upon the pulped remains of the bird near the far wall, a grotesque tapestry of blood and feathers. With a sigh, he rose, snatched up the carcass, and brought it to his lips. The stench of raw flesh and decay was almost unbearable. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tore into the uncooked meat.

He swallowed without chewing, his stomach heaving against the unnatural fare. A faint warmth spread through him. With a terrible hunger, he consumed half the carcass before the nausea became overwhelming. He staggered to his feet, gasping for clean air until he could force it down.

He flung the remains away, collapsing against the wall. His mind wandered, a tempest of memories. His parents, his fourth uncle, the mocking faces of his kin, the cold, dismissive gaze of the Heng Yue Sect elder.

His eyes snapped open, fixating on the discarded remains of the bird. He snatched it up, his breath catching in his throat. Nestled within the mangled flesh was a sphere of crimson, no bigger than a child’s fist. He dug it out, disbelief warring with a strange hope.

How could such a thing exist within this creature? A feverish idea seized him. He remembered the village schoolmaster and the ancient tome of myths and legends: the *Classic of Mountains and Seas*. Within its pages, he’d read of beasts that, with age, could cultivate a core of power within their bodies, a treasure known as the “Inner Dan.”

Such a treasure, it was said, could grant boundless strength, extend life, and even mend broken limbs.

He had dismissed it as fanciful tales then, but now…now he had seen immortals. The myths suddenly seemed a great deal more plausible.

His heart hammered against his ribs. If this truly was an Inner Dan, as the legends described, his wounds would heal, escape would be trivial, and even entry into an immortal sect might be within his reach. Surely such a trial of luck and strength would earn him a passing grade.

The sphere felt hard and cold, not at all like something meant to be consumed. He frowned, rubbing it clean with a strip torn from his tattered clothes.

It was stone, grey and etched with five stylized white clouds. Disappointment washed over him. Still, he bit down on it, and the stone was too hard. He sighed. “Tie Zhu,” he said to himself, using his childhood name, “you’re being foolish. Such fortunes are not found by chance.”

With a sigh, he huddled in the corner, exhaustion pulling him under. The stone lay forgotten beside the scattered bones.

Autumn’s chill crept in, seeping into the bones of the earth. Wang Lin curled into a ball, seeking warmth in his slumber. The night deepened, and the cold grew with it.

As dawn crested the mountains, pale sunlight spilled into the grotto, illuminating beads of glistening dew upon the surface of the stone. Slowly, the moisture trickled down, finding its way to the bones nearby.

Wang Lin awoke, his arm throbbing with a dull ache. The swelling had only worsened.

“Am I to die here, then?” he whispered to no one. His gaze drifted to the bones, slicked with dew. Thirst gnawed at him. Hesitantly, he reached out, carefully collecting the droplets and bringing them to his lips.

The water was sweet, refreshing. He couldn’t tell if it was his imagination, but warmth seemed to flood his body, chasing away the biting chill.

Most remarkably, the pain in his arm receded, replaced by a tingling sensation. The swelling had diminished. He rubbed his eyes, scarcely believing what he saw. His arm was undeniably improved. His mind raced. He searched for other dew-covered bones, but found none.

His gaze fell upon the grey stone. He stared, transfixed, as more droplets coalesced upon its surface. He recalled that the dewy bone had been near the stone. He picked up the rock, his heart pounding. After a pause, he pressed the stone directly against his swollen arm, rolling it across the inflamed flesh.

A wave of coolness emanated from the stone. Wang Lin watched, unblinking, as the swelling miraculously subsided. He flexed his arm, wincing slightly. The pain was still there, but it was bearable.

“This stone…it must be a treasure!” he breathed, his eyes shining with a renewed hope.