The middle-aged man in linen robes had a business card that introduced him as “Master Ma.” 

His profession? Face reading, fortune telling, feng shui, destiny alteration, and qigong for health—basically, the textbook image of a con artist.

Still, Su Jie didn’t see the need to provoke someone for no reason.

Even a con artist usually had some real skills—how else could they deceive people?

“Hello, Master Ma,” Su Jie greeted politely. “If I run into any trouble, I’ll be sure to visit the address on your card.”

Clearly just a polite formality.

But Master Ma understood as much, though he didn’t take offense. Instead, a mysterious smile appeared on his face. “Young man, your Great Corpse State is quite well-practiced—but your death isn’t clean. There are still remnants left behind.”

With that, he turned to leave.

“My death isn’t clean?” These words stirred something deep in Su Jie. A sudden realization flashed in his mind. “Master Ma, wait!”

But Master Ma didn’t turn back. He just let out a long sigh and said, “If one does not wish to die, one must first die. The Sage lies still like death, moves with the precision of a machine…”

And then he walked out of the park.

Su Jie didn’t go after him. Instead, he kept replaying Master Ma’s words in his head.

The pinnacle of his Great Corpse State was a state known as the “Living Dead.” Rumor had it that reaching this state would fundamentally alter a person’s vitality. It wasn’t martial arts—it was the cultivation of mental fortitude.

Wang Chongyang, the founder of the Quanzhen Sect, known as Master Chongyang in history—not the one from wuxia novels—had achieved this state.

He also referred to himself as a “Living Dead.”

“If one does not wish to die, one must first die…” Su Jie recognized this as a classic Chan Buddhist awakening phrase—words meant to jolt the soul awake in a flash of clarity.

The one that “dies” is the tangled mess of thoughts deep within the heart; the one that remains is the purest, clearest self.

That’s the essence of the Great Corpse State.

And the line “The Sage lies still like death, moves with the precision of a machine” came from the The Writings of Master Lie’s “Fate and Strength” chapter. It meant that those of high virtue and longevity in ancient times—those who aligned with the Dao—would lie still like they were dead, but when they moved, it was with mechanical precision and perfect regularity.

In the Esoteric Scripture of the Yellow Emperor, “Sages” were recorded as people who lived in harmony with nature, transcended the mundane world, and attained serene longevity.

The Great Corpse State came from Chan Buddhism, while The Writings of Master Lie represented Daoism.

Clearly, both Buddhism and Daoism considered the key to mental cultivation as “death before rebirth.”

“So-called death is training the mind until it reaches a state of no thought, no desire. The body remains alive, but not a single thought arises. In that moment, the brain enters a tranquil state. And in this state, its potential is unlocked, influencing the entire body.” Su Jie had been reading many scientific papers lately and understood how mental strength impacted physical health.

Of course, physical training was relatively straightforward, but mental training was only just beginning to be explored in scientific fields—it was practically untouched territory.

Su Jie sat down on a park bench, lost in thought.

How could one reach that realm of “still as death, moving like a machine”?

What exactly did that feel like? Did it really hold such immense power?

Had Odell reached that level?

Was this the state of mind Odell had been searching for—or perhaps something even higher?

Su Jie regretted not asking him more questions during training.

Of course, Odell was a foreigner. He probably couldn’t fully grasp the deeper levels of Buddhist and Daoist cultivation, which was exactly why he sought out so many masters.

Those people might not have been skilled fighters—but they were true cultivators.

Thoughts raced like lightning through Su Jie’s mind. He wrestled with one question after another.

“What is the meaning of life?”

“How do we truly distinguish between life and death?”

“Where do we come from, and where do we go?”

He sat there, dazed, with turbulent thoughts rising and falling before slowly settling. Time slipped by unnoticed.

Eventually, the sky brightened, and more people came out to exercise. Some passed by, curious as to why he was sitting so still, but they soon moved on.

Su Jie didn’t care. He was still deep in contemplation.

It was as though he were lost in a dark maze, unable to find his way.

Suddenly, the sky darkened. Wind stirred, clouds gathered, and thunder rumbled in the distance. A deafening crack of lightning shook the ground—then came a torrential downpour, rain splashing down in sheets.

It was already November—almost the start of winter—and thunderstorms were rare.

But this was the south, where the weather was still mild. Occasionally there’d be a thunderstorm, but one this fierce was unusual.

People scattered from the park like birds and beasts.

Autumn rain could easily lead to colds.

The thunder snapped Su Jie out of his trance. His entire body was soaked.

All his thoughts seemed to converge at once in the thunder’s roar. It felt as if he had grasped a vital truth.

He looked at his watch. It was already noon.

He had sat on that park bench, lost in thought, completely detached from the outside world—for six or seven hours.

To him, it had only felt like a single second.

At that moment, he truly understood what it felt like for the cultivators in ancient records to sit in the mountains for days and nights on end.

If it weren’t for the thunder that woke him up, he would probably still be lost in thought.

He quickly returned home to take a shower and change into clean clothes.

Just as he finished, his sister, Su Muchen, came back.

“I saw the message you sent me,” she said, still wearing her white lab coat, clearly having rushed back from the lab.

“What do you think? Should I interact with these people or not?” Su Jie asked.

“I was just about to come home and talk to you about that,” Su Muchen said, sitting down to take a sip of water. “The company formed by Lu Shu and his group is extremely wealthy. They’ll likely agree to the terms they promised. But my current research is at a critical stage. If I interrupt it now, it’ll be hard to pick back up. And once I switch companies, Haoyu Group definitely won’t give me access to my previous research data. Not to mention all the accumulated progress I’ve made so far. Haoyu Group has a very strong system in place. Lu Shu’s company is really just good with capital. Aside from having money, they don’t have much technical depth.”

“I’ve ridden in one of their self-driving cars. The tech seemed pretty solid,” Su Jie recalled.

“That technology isn’t theirs. They only invested in another company and got a prototype from them,” Su Muchen explained.

“But Sis, you’re not into business operations. How do you know all this so clearly?” Su Jie asked, surprised.

“Thanks to this,” Su Muchen replied, pulling out a tablet. It was about the size of a textbook, two or three times thicker than a smartphone, and sturdy with a metal case—it could probably be used as a brick in self-defense.

She tapped the screen, and a synthetic voice came through.

“Chen Jie at your service.” The voice was robotic, devoid of human emotion.

“I want you to repeat the results of the task I asked you to check last night,” Su Muchen said via voice command.

“Qingfeng Group is composed of Lu Shu, Jiang Yuan, Fan Chuan, and Li Zhi. Based on publicly available information about their finances, shareholders, personalities, and events following their company’s registration, analysis indicates that switching jobs is not advisable… Displaying detailed analysis charts now.”

As the mechanical voice spoke, the screen lit up with numerous data graphs and subtitles.

“This advanced?” Su Jie was stunned. This wasn’t some run-of-the-mill software analysis. As he looked closer, he found it to be even more powerful than top-tier business analysis teams. “What is this? Is this the AI you’ve been working on? It’s insane! Can this thing be used to trade stocks?”

“Of course it can. In fact, most of the U.S. stock market is already analyzed and traded by AI. These systems are accurate, emotionless, and can process the fundamentals and technical aspects of the entire market within a second, constantly updating with real-time data. It’s terrifying,” Su Muchen explained confidently.

“I’ve heard about that. In the stock market, it’s called algorithmic trading—basically, a battle of software strength. But regulations here are stricter,” Su Jie nodded. “By the way, Lu Shu gave me a phone and a SIM card. Can you check it for me?”

Su Muchen took the phone and card from Su Jie and began inspecting them skillfully. After starting it up, her expression subtly changed. “This is a D@rk Web access point and account.”

“D@rk Web?” Su Jie had never heard of it before.

“The D@rk Web refers to internet platforms that can’t be accessed through regular search engines. What we see on the surface web is just the tip of the iceberg,” Su Muchen said. “On the D@rk Web, all kinds of illegal transactions happen—you can buy anything from intel and weapons to even hire assassins. Transactions on the D@rk Web aren’t made with real-world currencies like the U.S. dollar. They use blockchain-based currencies like Bitcoin, which was extremely popular a while ago.”

Su Jie had heard of Bitcoin—a virtual currency. He remembered reading that in 2010, a programmer used 10,000 bitcoins to buy two pizzas worth 25 dollars.

That meant one b!tcoin was worth just $0.0025.

But now, Su Jie saw online that a single bitcoin was worth tens of thousands of dollars.

In less than ten years, its value had increased by millions of times. What kind of growth rate was that?

Every time he saw such news, Su Jie felt it was too surreal, like something out of a fantasy novel. How could something invisible and intangible be worth so much? And yet countless people were willing to pay real money for it. Was the world crazy, or was he the one going insane?

“On the D@rk Web, you can even use cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin to buy the latest drugs developed by the U.S. military or secret research results from labs all over the world—as long as you have the currency. That’s the terrifying part of the D@rk Web. There are many organizations with unimaginable power operating there. They use it for global trade, smuggling, money laundering, and other crimes. Some even aim to use cryptocurrencies to control the global financial system. When I was doing my computer research, I accidentally uncovered a few clues—it was horrifying,” Su Muchen shivered. “This is a Pandora’s box, little brother. You’d better not open it. Lu Shu gave you this account and login device with no good intentions. He wants to drag you into it.”

“In that case, I won’t log in,” Su Jie said after some thought. “I’ll just give the phone and card back.”

Though he was curious, Su Jie had long since learned how to suppress impulsive thoughts.

“That’s for the best,” Su Muchen nodded.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep