Chapter Four: The Severed Black Hand

Black and golden lights seemed to entwine within the cave. At first, both glowed brightly, but gradually, their radiance began to fade. Fang Mu slowly regained his composure, steadied his nerves, and fixed his gaze on the gaping hole.

After a moment’s hesitation, he gritted his teeth, raised his G-301, and cautiously approached the edge, peering inside.

The next instant, he sucked in a sharp breath.

For within this pit—several meters wide and three or four meters deep—lay a severed hand.

A black, severed hand.

From it erupted thick, uncanny black flames, surging and writhing as if struggling for release—the very black light he had seen.

Yet, apart from the flames, a ring of golden light tightly bound the hand. Looking closer, Fang Mu realized the golden glow emanated from two tangible chains of golden runes, intertwined and wrapped around the black hand. The chains shone brilliantly, as if suppressing the sinister fire.

Two forces clashed, silent yet profoundly strange.

Even Fang Mu couldn’t help but swallow.

But the power of the black flames was clearly weaker than the golden rune chains.

Earlier, from outside, he had seen the contest between the two lights. Yet in just a brief moment, the black fire had been confined to within half a foot of the hand.

And it was still shrinking.

The bizarre scene stretched far beyond Fang Mu’s understanding.

Reason urged him—run!

Yet his feet felt rooted, for the spectacle was so fantastical, unheard of; deep down, he wanted to see how it ended.

Gradually, the black flames grew weaker and weaker. The brilliance of the golden chains seemed to fade alongside them.

Soon, all flames vanished. The golden rune chains settled on the black hand, forming a crossed golden rune, branded upon its surface.

Was it over?

Fang Mu frowned.

But it was not.

For once the black flames disappeared, the hand—once robust—began to wither.

Within mere seconds, flesh and blood shriveled, leaving only skin and bone, desiccated as though rotted away.

As if…

The last traces of flesh vanished.

With the hand nearly reduced to skin and bone, the golden rune became utterly still, like a tattoo etched in a series of intricate marks across the shriveled hand, finally dimming, losing all light.

…

A gentle breeze drifted through. For a long while, Fang Mu merely exhaled, his gaze wary as he stared at the pit.

Too strange.

Better to leave this place…

With that thought, he began to retreat, intent on leaving this place of trouble.

But the moment he turned, a faint golden glow flickered at the edge of his vision.

He paused, momentarily stunned, instinctively stopping. He turned back, peering carefully at the depths below.

His eyes narrowed, for he saw something—

A ring.

It hung on the severed hand!

It must have once fit snugly, but now, with the hand shriveled to skin and bone, it had slipped down to the fingertip.

Just one glance, and Fang Mu’s heart began to pound uncontrollably.

A ring on the severed hand?

His breath caught, mind whirling—

A severed hand, fallen from a sudden gaping hole in the sky, nothing but a hand, yet it had created a massive crater. Clearly lifeless, yet moments ago, it burned with uncanny black flames, as if alive, struggling. Golden rune chains entwined and suppressed it—

All of this attested to the hand’s dread and uniqueness!

And now…

The strange hand bore a ring…

This ring—

Anyone could guess it was no ordinary item!

Fang Mu’s heart thundered!

Should he risk it?

The question barely lingered three seconds before Fang Mu had his answer.

Yes!

A horse grows fat grazing at night, wealth comes only to those who dare!

Fortune favors the bold!

Such an encounter might not come again in centuries—if he let it slip away, what was the point of struggling for advancement?

It would be safer to stay home and feed the children!

With that, Fang Mu gritted his teeth, his mind racing.

The hand’s strangeness had rattled him deeply. Though the golden rune chains seemed to have suppressed it, who knew what else might happen?

He glanced around, bent to pick up a stone, and, after another grimace, hurled it into the pit.

The stone struck the severed hand squarely.

Fang Mu watched for any sign of danger, ready to bolt at the slightest hint.

But all was calm.

The hand appeared nothing more than a withered, lifeless object, devoid of any oddity.

After observing a while, Fang Mu no longer hesitated. He gripped his dagger in his left hand, G-301 raised in his right, and carefully slid down into the pit.

He reached the hand's side.

Suppressing his pounding heart, he studied the hand up close.

Pitch-black and decayed, its darkness almost gleaming, now utterly shriveled, like a sinister, gnarled branch soaked in water. The break at the wrist was jagged, the wound uneven. Upon closer inspection, even the bones and tendons were blackened.

It radiated ill omen.

On the hand, crossed rune brands were etched—intricate and mysterious. Fang Mu stared intently, but—

Yes, he confirmed—he had no idea what they meant.

This was the hand that had burned with black flames? And the runes that had once shone with golden light, tangible as matter?

Had he not seen it himself, Fang Mu would never have believed it.

After a while, he ceased his scrutiny.

No changes—best to act quickly.

He needed to retrieve the item and leave. Standing beside the hand, he felt chilled to the bone.

Carefully, he avoided contact with the hand, using two fingers to gently pinch and slide the ring from its shriveled fingertip.

No mishap occurred; the ring came away easily.

So smooth, it was almost unbelievable!

Yet Fang Mu steadied himself—the hand was too strange; even being near it left him uneasy.

Without any delay, and without examining the ring, he scrambled out of the pit.

“This valley is off-limits from now on,” Fang Mu thought to himself.

He turned and fled.

But after running a dozen meters, he suddenly stopped, glanced back, and, biting his lip, hurried back.

He quickly began to shovel the loose earth scattered around the pit back into the hole.

Fortunately, the task wasn’t difficult; the soil was already piled at the edge, and he simply pushed it back.

Soon, the pit was mostly filled, and the once-blocked stream flowed again. The severed hand was thoroughly buried.

Fang Mu dared not linger longer. Slinging his pack, gun in hand, he sped off in a flash.

…