Chapter Forty-Seven: Shades

Fragment of the Gray Mark...

Li Le unconsciously murmured the name as she gazed at the barrel of medicinal bath beside Brother Bai, unable to put into words the tremor that shook her heart. Just from the name alone, Li Le could sense the extraordinary nature of this ancient formula.

Why did she feel this way?

Because it touched upon some deep-seated preferences and notions that had existed in this world since ancient times.

There was no moon here, nor sunlight that refracted into brilliant colors; thus, words describing hues like red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and violet were not commonly used. They were like those obscure characters Li Le had studied in her previous life—present, but rarely seen.

Among all the color descriptors, the most revered and familiar shades were gray and black—dark tones. From the moment of birth, people learned to survive within the death fog, and the best way to do so was to conceal themselves. Like chameleons in nature, who shift their skin to match their surroundings, humanity had evolved similarly in this world. Their skin leaned toward shades of gray and black, a result of generations adapting to survive.

Even their eyes boasted remarkable abilities, comparable to—or even surpassing—the nocturnal creatures Li Le had once known.

In summary, gray and black were held in high esteem here. In Li Le’s former world, during the feudal era, these colors were akin to the imperial gold dragon robes: they carried a uniquely significant symbolism.

For example, the cloak Li Le wore when venturing outside was gray. This gray cloak directly indicated her guardian Bai Ye’s status in Cloud City—at least among the upper echelons. As for Lie, the son of Uncle Liu, a mid-level official, he wore a cloak similar to Li Le’s, not because of his father’s position, but because his own exceptional potential had earned him the clan’s recognition.

His cloak had been personally bestowed by Elder Qu, with only a handful granted—rare and precious. Lie cherished it dearly, though he never spoke of it, yet never left home without it. He was proud, in his own way.

Understanding what gray symbolized in this world, Li Le now looked upon the “Fragment of the Gray Mark” with awe, as if gazing up at an insurmountable peak.

After all, what difference was there between a name like this and “Dragon Fist of the Flame and Yellow”? With such a bold name, the contents must surely be worthy; even the medicinal bath before her seemed to live up to it.

Having grasped the underlying significance, Li Le turned her attention to the ripples in the bath, her eyes shining with anticipation.

“The Tempering Skin stage is crucial!” Brother Bai’s voice grew more solemn beside her. “This medicinal bath I’ve prepared contains rare ingredients, enough for just one person.”

Li Le listened to his earnest words and felt a weight settle in her chest. The value of this bath surely exceeded her imagination.

By comparison, the life-and-death mushrooms she had previously brought back were worth at most a quarter of this bath—already a considerable sum.

And then there was the ancient formula, whose name alone was awe-inspiring—likely the most vital inheritance of Brother Bai’s lineage.

“At least half an hour is needed to absorb the medicinal bath,” Brother Bai said, pointing at several larger ceramic jars on the table as he explained in a cool, measured tone.

“After soaking, apply the medicine from those jars to your body—start with the tallest one, which ensures the bath’s medicine is fully absorbed. Then use the shorter jar, which helps retain the medicinal effects.”

He explained carefully, detailing the purpose of each ceramic jar. To help Li Le distinguish them, Brother Bai had even glued thin sheets of beast-hide paper, marked differently, onto the jars.

Li Le listened intently, nodding from time to time, memorizing the order of the jars with utmost diligence. She dared not be careless.

Though she didn’t understand why tempering the skin required so many steps and precautions, she at least grasped one thing: the more costly and complex something was, the higher its threshold for entry.

If something could endure despite these demands, it meant it had true merit.

Just as expensive things weren’t always good, but something too cheap could never be truly excellent.

Why? Because the cost itself set the limit.

By the same logic, Li Le did not fear the numerous steps of the “Fragment of the Gray Mark” body-tempering method; complexity meant a higher ceiling.