Chen Mo staggered through brush and stone until the forest finally thinned into a narrow valley wrapped in silence. A thin mist clung low to the ground, and jagged cliffs curved inward like the ribs of a sleeping beast.

  There.

  A shallow cave tucked between two leaning slabs of rock. Half concealed by creeping vines. Easy to miss unless one was desperate enough to look for holes in the world.

  He circled it once.

  No lingering auras. No fresh tracks. No demonic scent thick in the air.

  Only wind and stone.

  Satisfied, Chen Mo slipped inside. The cave was cramped but dry. A large boulder rested near the inner wall. Gritting his teeth through the burning pain across his back, he dragged it inch by inch until it sealed the entrance from within, leaving only narrow cracks for air. Darkness settled immediately.

  Only then did he collapse.

  Pain flared like wildfire along his spine. The wind blade had cut deep. Every breath tugged at torn flesh.

  Chen Mo clenched his jaw and retrieved a small bottle from his pouch. These pills were part of his spoils from that bloody day near the forest entrance. After discreet inquiries in the market, he had learned their purpose. Healing. Not top grade, but reliable.

  He swallowed one without hesitation.

  Warmth spread through his abdomen, then radiated outward. The medicinal qi seeped into his meridians, flowing toward the wound. The burning sensation dulled, replaced by a tingling numbness as torn flesh began knitting together.

  His Innate-level body refinement revealed its value.

  Though the injury was deep, it had missed vital points. Muscles began tightening, blood flow slowed, then stopped entirely. The regenerative strength of the Primordial Body Art worked in tandem with the pill’s effect, accelerating recovery beyond what a normal Qi Refining cultivator could endure.

  Minutes passed.

  Chen Mo exhaled slowly, pressing his palm against the cold stone floor.

  Alive.

  Barely.

  A humorless smile touched his lips in the darkness.

  “Wind blades… late-stage spiritual sense…” he muttered faintly. “So this is the real gap.”

  The forest had taught him something today.

  And he had survived long enough to learn it.

  Lying against the cold stone, Chen Mo replayed the battle again and again.

  He was certain of one thing.

  If he could get close, if he could land a clean strike, even a late-stage Qi Refining cultivator could fall beneath his fists. His Innate body refinement was not a decoration. It was lethal.

  But cultivators were not wooden stakes waiting to be broken.

  Late-stage Qi Refining meant something.

  Their spiritual senses were sharp, able to lock onto movement before it fully unfolded. Their spells were swift and layered, offense flowing into defense, defense flowing into pursuit. Movement techniques like Xiong Tao’s Wind Steps erased distance advantages. And then there were spiritual weapons… flying swords, defensive shields, talismans that could detonate or block at a thought.

  That was the true danger.

  A prepared cultivator was a fortress that moved.

  Taking someone by surprise was one thing. Strike fast. End it instantly. Leave no room for reaction.

  But once alert?

  They would never allow him to approach. Wind blades, fire arts, flying swords, talisman arrays. The battlefield would become a storm before he could even step within arm’s reach. Even escaping required immense stamina and calculation.

  Today had proven that clearly.

  Chen Mo closed his eyes.

  He had been arrogant.

  A few successful ambushes had inflated his confidence. He thought Innate body refinement combined with Burst Mode made him invincible among Qi Refining cultivators.

  Reality corrected him brutally.

  He lacked proper techniques. Lacked ranged attacks. Lacked defensive methods. Lacked knowledge.

  Most of all, he lacked understanding of how immortals truly fought.

  In this world, strength was not just cultivation level. It was preparation. Resources. Experience. Equipment.

  Compared to sect disciples and veteran hunters, he was poor. Ignorant. Bare-handed in a world of flying blades.

  Chen Mo opened his eyes slowly in the darkness.

  The pain in his back had dulled, but the lesson burned clearly.

  If he wanted to survive, he could not remain a reckless body refiner hiding in bushes.

  He needed techniques.

  He needed weapons.

  He needed information.

  Otherwise, the next time he gambled with death… the house would win.

  The Hunting Association hall roared like a marketplace of ambition.

  Loose cultivators haggled over formation plates. Others argued about reward splits. Fresh tasks issued by the sect were being read aloud near the central board, drawing clusters of eager listeners. The air smelled of wine, sweat, and spirit stone greed.

  At a broad wooden table near the corner, laughter rose above the din.

  Xiong Tao’s team was celebrating.

  The Ironhorn Stag had been sold for a full thousand spirit stones. After costs and division, each member walked away heavier in pouch and lighter in worry.

  Pan Yu raised his cup high. “It’s all thanks to Boss Xiong! Not only did we survive, we made a fortune!”

  Cups clinked.

  “To Boss Xiong!”

  Xiong Tao laughed heartily, waving them down. “Team effort. Without coordination, we’d be meat under those antlers. Good work, everyone.”

  The mood was warm. Victorious.

  Then the laughter thinned.

  A shadow fell across the table.

  A man stood there, tall and sharp-featured, aura dense and steady at the eighth level of Qi Condensation. His eyes were hard as hammered iron.

  Deng Wu.

  The elder brother of Deng Li.

  The hall noise seemed to dim slightly around them.

  “Xiong Tao,” Deng Wu said flatly. “I hear you were looking for me.”

  Xiong Tao showed no surprise. He gestured calmly to an empty seat. “Brother Wu. Come. Sit. The wine is on me.”

  His tone was casual, but he subtly signaled his team with a glance. Pan Yu and the others understood immediately and dispersed, leaving the two alone.

  Deng Wu sat without ceremony. “Speak. What do you want?”

  Xiong Tao leaned forward slightly. “Brother Wu, I’ll be direct. I have information about the one who killed your younger brother.”

  Deng Wu’s eyes sharpened instantly. He did not ask whether it was true. He only asked, “How much?”

  Xiong Tao smiled faintly. “Just a small request. Recommend me to Steward Mu. You understand how hard life is for loose cultivators. Without backing, Foundation Establishment is a distant dream.”

  Deng Wu’s expression remained cold. “You think Steward Mu can just admit you into the sect? Don’t be na?ve.”

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Xiong Tao shook his head. “I’m not asking to join. I want a connection. A channel. When the time comes… I want the opportunity to order a Foundation Establishment Pill.”

  Deng Wu fell silent.

  He knew the truth behind those words. The Foundation Establishment Pill was essential. Without it, attempting breakthrough was gambling with one’s cultivation base. Sect alchemists controlled production. Waiting for auction scraps among ruthless competition was unreliable at best.

  After a moment, Deng Wu nodded once. “I can arrange a meeting with Steward Mu. The rest depends on you.”

  Xiong Tao’s smile deepened. “That’s enough. Thank you, Brother Wu.”

  He produced a small jade slip and handed it over.

  “Inside is the portrait of someone we encountered in the wilderness. Outwardly first-level Qi Condensation. But his body refinement… extraordinary. I struck him twice with wind blades. He still escaped.”

  His tone carried faint embarrassment, though his eyes were calculating.

  “He fits the profile of the one who ambushed your brother. I’ve also included the last known coordinates where we saw him.”

  Deng Wu pressed the jade slip to his forehead. Chen Mo’s image burned into his memory.

  A first-level Qi Condensation junior.

  Body refinement strong enough to shatter weapons.

  He stood without another word.

  “We will meet again.”

  Then he turned and left.

  Xiong Tao watched him disappear into the crowd, unconcerned.

  In truth, he did not care about Deng Wu’s revenge.

  What mattered was the connection to the sect.

  As for that mysterious body refiner…

  Xiong Tao swirled the wine in his cup thoughtfully.

  If fate was amusing enough, perhaps that reckless junior would kill Deng Wu instead.

  That outcome would not displease him either.

  Several days later, within the orderly stone courtyards of the Azure Pine Immortal Sect, Sheng Xia sat upright across from Steward Luo Shen.

  The air between them was calm, but not relaxed.

  “So,” Luo Shen said slowly, fingers resting atop the table, “you sent He Kai to retrieve Chen Mo. Several days have passed. No return. No report.”

  Sheng Xia nodded, her usual lightness gone. “Yes. I assumed it would be routine. I never imagined He Kai would…” She paused briefly. “…be killed.”

  He Kai’s body had been discovered only yesterday, buried beneath the floor of Chen Mo’s rented courtyard in Fenglin City. Once he vanished, sect law enforcement traced his last known movements. The investigation had peeled back the truth layer by layer, until the corpse surfaced like an accusation.

  Luo Shen had summoned Sheng Xia as part of that inquiry.

  “It seems,” Luo Shen continued calmly, “we underestimated the boy we recruited on a whim.”

  Sheng Xia’s brows tightened.

  “The Hunting Association has also posted his name,” Luo Shen added. “He is now a wanted murderer.”

  Sheng Xia’s composure cracked slightly. “That is… confirmed?”

  “Indeed.” Luo Shen’s gaze was steady. “He is suspected of killing four middle-stage Qi Refining cultivators near the forest entrance. Additionally, he escaped pursuit by an eighth-level cultivator.”

  Silence followed.

  Sheng Xia’s expression shifted drastically. The playful dismissal she once held toward Chen Mo evaporated. A menial disciple junior capable of such feats? That was no longer something to laugh at.

  Luo Shen leaned back slightly. “You were fortunate. Had you gone personally instead of preparing for your sect examination, the outcome may have been… inconvenient.”

  Sheng Xia did not respond.

  “Listen carefully,” Luo Shen said. “You are not to seek this boy again. And inform Li Yuxue not to leave the sect premises.”

  His tone grew colder.

  “He has fled into the wilderness, yes. But survival there does not guarantee safety from us. The sect will issue a formal wanted notice. If the demonic beasts do not end him…”

  A faint chill entered his voice.

  “…our pursuit will.”

  The cave was silent except for the faint drip of condensed moisture from stone.

  Chen Mo opened his eyes.

  The translucent panel unfolded before him like a private decree from fate.

  Realm: Qi Condensation Level 2

  Progress: 3 / 200

  He released a slow, turbid breath. His body felt lighter. The wounds on his back had healed faster than expected. The torn flesh had closed, leaving only tight new skin and a dull ache beneath it.

  Physically, he had recovered.

  Mentally, he was walking on the edge of a blade.

  He knew the situation was worsening with every passing hour.

  He Kai’s corpse was likely discovered by now. The sect was not blind. Once law enforcement traced his disappearance to the courtyard, everything would unravel.

  And those hunters…

  Chen Mo did not believe for a second that Xiong Tao would simply forget him. Even if Xiong valued profit over revenge, information could be sold. Names could be exchanged. Spirit stones had a way of loosening tongues.

  This was not the mortal world.

  In the mortal world, one could hide in a cave for years and be forgotten.

  Here?

  Cultivators were resourceful. Spiritual sense could sweep an area like an invisible net. If you were within range and not skilled at concealing your aura, you might as well light a beacon. Without a proper breath-hiding technique, stealth was temporary at best.

  And if a Foundation Establishment cultivator decided to personally hunt him…

  Chen Mo’s jaw tightened.

  At that realm, the sea of consciousness was opened. Spiritual perception was no longer a ripple but a tide. Even an early-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator could detect fluctuations Qi Refining cultivators would never notice. Against such a person, he would not even qualify as prey. He would be a footprint.

  The truth settled heavily.

  He was cornered by a world far larger than himself.

  “The only way…” he muttered quietly, “is deeper.”

  Deeper into the mountains. Deeper into territories where even sect disciples hesitated to roam freely.

  But that was not strategy. That was desperation.

  He reached into his bundle and withdrew two jade slips. Their surfaces were smooth, faintly cool, ancient in texture. The legacy that two Innate experts had hunted him for across two years.

  His fingers tightened around them.

  “My only hope now… is that these can give me a way to survive.”

  His gaze dropped to the panel again.

  Level 2.

  To access the contents, he needed to reach the 4th level of Qi Condensation.

  Two entire minor realms away.

  “Damn luck…” he muttered under his breath, frustration sharp in the darkness.

  Outside, wind passed over the valley mouth.

  Inside, Chen Mo sat with two unopened legacies in his hands, a hunted man betting everything on the promise of power he could not yet touch.