My bizarre resurgence: My price is the ability to trade everything.

When I got back to the dormitory, it was already four in the morning.

I lay in bed, but I just couldn't fall asleep.

The crack in the ceiling resembled a winding river, stretching from the window to the head of the bed. I stared at that crack for a long time, my mind filled with the words of the Seventh Apostle.

"The scales of cost can never truly be balanced."

"It can only be transferred, not eliminated."

"Every time it's used, it makes the world's rules even more chaotic."

If what he said is true...

So, what I've been doing all along—is it protecting the world or destroying it?

I dared not think any further.

I don't know how much time has passed.

The sky outside the window changed from pitch black to deep blue, and then from deep blue to grayish-white.

Just as I was drifting off to sleep, a voice suddenly rang in my mind.

"Can't sleep?"

I suddenly opened my eyes.

The sound didn't come from outside; it appeared directly in my consciousness.

A familiar voice.

It sounds a lot like my voice, but it's also different. It's deeper, more composed, and carries a weariness that comes with a sense of having experienced many hardships.

"Who are you?" I asked.

No one answered.

I sat up and looked around. I was alone in the room; the windows were closed, the door was locked, and there was nothing unusual.

"I am right here," the voice said again, "deep within your consciousness."

My heart started racing.

Deep personality.

That's the voice of a deeper personality.

He had appeared a few times before, but always when I was in a daze and on the verge of losing control. This is the first time he has appeared on his own initiative while I am fully conscious like this.

"Why...why are you here now?" I stammered.

"Because you're thinking about something very dangerous," the voice said, "about the scales of cost, about yourself."

How did you know?

"Because of those things, I've thought about them too."

My consciousness began to fade.

It wasn't the feeling of fainting, but rather like being pulled into another space by something.

When I "opened my eyes" again, I found myself standing in a white void.

There was nothing around, only endless white light.

"This is......"

"Deep within your consciousness," the voice came from behind me, "is also my domain."

I turned around.

In the white void, a figure was standing not far away.

That was a man.

He looked to be in his thirties, wearing a gray tracksuit, with jet-black, shiny hair and a handsome yet resolute face.

She looks a lot like me.

No, it's not just similar. They're practically identical.

"You...you are..."

"My name is Lin Zhengyang," he said, "but you're probably more used to calling me 'Father.'"

Father.

I stood there, looking at the familiar yet unfamiliar man in front of me.

"How did you get into my consciousness?" I asked. "Chen Xuan said you were a Balancer, but you're already dead..."

"Dead?" The father gave a bitter laugh. "You could say that. But for the Balancer, 'death' isn't the true end."

"What do you mean?"

"The Balance of Costs is a special kind of rule-based power." My father walked up to me. "After its user dies, a portion of their consciousness remains within the balance. If the inheritor possesses sufficiently strong bloodline and talent, this residual consciousness will integrate into the inheritor's deeper personality."

"I am that remaining part of consciousness."

I was silent.

It turns out that the deep personality wasn't an independent personality, but rather fragments of the father's consciousness.

"Then our previous conversation..." I murmured.

"That's my memory influencing you," the father nodded. "The 'other personality taking over' you during the crisis was actually my residual consciousness protecting you."

"You appeared to protect me?"

"It's not just about protection," my father said, his eyes filled with complex emotions, "it's about completing what I failed to do."

"The secret of the Scales of Justice," the father said, "you've already heard part of it from the Seventh Apostle."

"Is what he said true?" I asked eagerly. "Is the scale of consequences truly unbalanced, and can it only be shifted?"

"What he said...is the truth," the father nodded, "but only half the truth."

"half?"

"The power of the Balance of Costs can be divided into three levels." The father stretched out his hand, and a miniature balance scale pattern appeared in his palm. "The first level is 'transfer,' transferring the cost from one object to another. This is a fundamental ability possessed by all balancers."

"The second level is 'transformation,' which involves changing the cost from one form to another. For example, transforming lifespan into vitality, and vitality into some other ability. Only a few balancers can master this level."

"The third floor..."

The father paused, his voice deepening, "The third level is 'resolution.' Completely erasing the cost from the world, making it never exist."

"Resolve it?!" I stared wide-eyed. "How is that possible?"

"Theoretically, it's feasible," the father said. "The essence of the cost is the imbalance of the rules. If we can directly fix the imbalanced rules, the cost can disappear completely."

"But the balance of power itself cannot achieve this. Because the source of the balance's power is itself a product of the imbalance of the rules."

"To mitigate the costs, we need to rely on another force."

"What power?"

"The origin of rules," the father uttered the word, "the source of all rules in this world."

"The origin of rules..." I repeated the phrase, "What is that?"

"The Origin is the most primal force in this world." The father's expression turned serious. "All rules are born from the Origin and perish within it. It is the ultimate form of balance, and also the final destination of the price."

"If we can gain the source's approval, we can directly invoke its power to mitigate the cost."

"The Seven-Pointed Star Ceremony of Guixu and Night Raven..."

"They want to open a passage to the origin." The father nodded. "The seven-pointed star is an ancient summoning array; it can resonate through specific rules to open a temporary passage to the origin."

"They want to control the source?"

"It's even crazier than that." The father shook his head. "They want to 'reboot' the origin."

"Reboot?"

"In the words of the Guixu Cult, this world is terminally ill. Its rules are chaotic, its energy unbalanced, and life struggles in agony. The only cure is to cleanse everything and allow the origin to begin anew."

"That would be to destroy the world."

"Yes," the father said. "For the madmen of Guixu, destroying the old world and establishing a new order is the only way to 'save' this world."

I clenched my fist.

Destroying the world—is this the "salvation" the Seventh Apostle speaks of?

"But the source isn't so easily controlled," the father continued. "I once found a trace of the source's power, ten years ago."

"You found it?"

"I only found a wisp," the father said with a wry smile. "The power of the primordial source was too immense; I simply couldn't withstand it. That wisp of power coursed through my body, nearly tearing me to pieces."

"I managed to subdue it in the end, but I was seriously injured in the process."

"That injury was—"

"The backlash of the balance of costs." Father nodded. "Every time I use my source, the price is a huge disruption to my own rules. My body began to decline after that."

"But you've found a way to mitigate the costs?"

"Only a portion was found," the father shook his head. "To resolve this, two conditions are required: First, gain the source's approval and the authority to use its power. Second, master the 'Return to Origin Technique,' the only cultivation method capable of withstanding the source's power."

"The Return to Origin Technique?"

"The ultimate form of Tai Chi Returning to Origin," my father said. "Only by practicing Tai Chi Returning to Origin to its peak can one withstand the backlash from the source."

"Have you mastered it?"

"I've mastered it." The father's expression darkened. "But just as I was about to use my neutralizing ability... someone interrupted me."

"Interrupt?" I was stunned. "Who?"

The father fell silent.

His expression became complicated, as if he were recalling something painful.

"I don't know," he finally said. "I was alone in the headquarters' underground research lab at the time. Just as I was preparing to initiate the ritual, someone suddenly burst in and interrupted my concentration."

"The power of the origin has gone out of control. Part of it broke through the seal and disappeared from this world. The other part directly eroded my body."

"If Chen Xuan hadn't arrived in time, I might have died on the spot."

"But even so, I still..."

The father did not continue.

But I understand now.

That interruption led to two consequences: First, the power of the origin scattered throughout the world, becoming the target of Guixu's pursuit. Second, the father was severely injured and eventually passed away three years later.

And the person who interrupted him...

"Who was it?" I asked. "Don't you know who interrupted you?"

"I've investigated," the father shook his head, "but there are no clues. That person came and went without a trace, leaving no trace whatsoever."

"I suspect it's someone from Guixu. But I have no proof."

My mind was racing.

Someone deliberately interrupted the father's research, causing the power of the origin to scatter throughout the world.

This person is very likely related to Guixu.

But it could also be...

"There's another possibility," my father said, as if reading my mind. "This person might be inside headquarters."

"You mean... there's a mole?"

"I'm not sure," the father said, "but be careful. Not many people know the secret of the Scales of Justice, but each one could be a suspect."

"Father," I looked at him, "can you still teach me that method to resolve it?"

The father remained silent for a while.

"Yes," he said, "but not now."

Why?

"Because you're still too weak," the father said bluntly. "You've only just begun practicing Tai Chi Returning to Origin Technique. The Returning to Origin Technique requires at least ten years of practice to even scratch the surface. At your current level, you simply can't withstand the power of the origin."

"What should I do then?"

"Continue your cultivation," Father said. "Seven days from now, the Ruins of Return will activate the Seven-Pointed Star Ritual. At that time, the channel to the Origin will briefly open. That will be your only chance."

"You must destroy the seventh node before the ritual is completed."

"Stop the ritual?"

"It's not just about stopping them." The father's eyes sharpened. "You must reach the Source before the Ruins are destroyed."

"Only by gaining the recognition of the Source can you obtain the power to resolve things."

"But it's difficult," he added. "The Void has been preparing for twenty years; their plan is meticulously crafted. Seizing control of the Origin from them is virtually impossible."

"almost?"

The father smiled.

There was an indescribable confidence in that smile.

Do you know why I have confidence in you?

Why?

"Because you have something I don't," the father said. "You have a foundation in martial arts, a modern knowledge system, and... a complete team."

"The Seventh Apostle is the most terrifying enemy I've ever faced. But you have people supporting you, people helping you. These are things I didn't have back then."

"Seven days left." My father patted me on the shoulder. "Make the most of it."

"We have no way out."

My consciousness withdrew from that white void.

When I "woke up" again, I found myself still lying in bed.

The sky outside the window was already bright, and sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the curtains, casting a golden band of light on the floor.

I lay there for a while, reflecting on the conversation we had just had.

Father's inheritance.

The three levels of the cost balance.

There's also the secret to resolving it.

Everything points to the same goal—the seven-pointed star ceremony seven days later.

"We can't let them succeed," I muttered to myself. "We have to stop them."

I sat up and started getting dressed.

There is still a lot to do.

There is still a lot of preparation to be done.

Seven days, only seven days.