Jingxuan bursts from the ground floor of his cave, shards of stone scattering around him.
He stays kneeling, gasping, sweat streaming down his face.
Patches of his skin glimmer faintly like rock—grey veins creeping along his neck, arms, and chest—the aftereffect of overusing the Earth Demon Body technique to resist the thunder explosions.
His breathing steadies slowly.
He presses a trembling hand to his chest, feeling the hardened flesh there.
The petrification spreads sluggishly, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
He channels his Weird energy into the afflicted parts, and the stone-like skin begins to crack, then flake away into dust.
The effort drains him, but he continues until the last trace fades, leaving his skin pale and human again.
He exhales and sits cross-legged, letting the echo of his heartbeat merge with the still hum of the cave. "The effect of the 'Earth Travel' ability is still severe." His body still feels half-stone, half-flesh—his bones heavy with lingering earth energy.
The Earth Demon Body technique not only strengthens his body but also grants unique abilities.
At the second stage, it enhances his affinity with earth energy.
At the fourth, it allows him to manipulate sand, stone, and rock.
And at the sixth stage, he gained the power to turn himself into living stone and move through solid earth.
He had named it the Earth Travel ability—the very reason he escaped the Dark Sun warlock's thunder swarm alive.
He closes his eyes, forcing out the weird energy clinging to his body.
A faint hum fills the cave as the petrified patches slowly dissolve, returning to warm flesh. His injuries begin to heal, though fatigue seeps deep into his bones.
Far away, on a barren ridge overlooking the rocky mountains, a lone Moon Realm warlock lowers a flickering image stone.
He grins faintly, satisfied. The stone has captured every moment of Jingxuan's battle—the chain, the thunder butterflies, and his vanishing into the ground.
By nightfall, the stone changes hands, sold to the Bai Family Chamber of Commerce. Within days, thousands of copies spread across the empire.
And among the buyers, in a creaking carriage bound for Muyi Village, sits Xia He of the Puppet Hall. He lounges beside the driver, the image stone turning slowly in his hand.
"Seeing his rival's strength," Xia He murmurs, a sly smile touching his lips, "I want to know what Wenrui's expression will be."
A few days ago, he met Wenrui and his team when they rescued him from a siege by members of the Demon Palace.
Learning that they too were investigating the same group, Xia He decided to join them. But he still had luggage to collect, so they agreed to regroup in Muye Village.
As his carriage nears the village, the barren road gives way to farmlands and scattered farmers.
He leans forward, asking a passing man about Wenrui's group. The man points toward a house near Healer Su Mei's residence.
The carriage halts before the gate. Xia He steps down, knocks, and soon the door opens to reveal Wang Ji, one of Wenrui's team members.
"Brother Xia He!" Wang Ji exclaims, his face lighting up. He ushers Xia He in, calling for the others. One by one, the team comes to greet him, and finally, Wenrui himself steps forward with a grin.
Before they can exchange more than a few words, a female voice cuts through the air. "Who is he?"
They turn. A striking woman in golden robes approaches, her posture regal, her steps light. Behind her walks another woman in a flowing purple dress.
Wenrui straightens. "Princess, this is my friend Xia He—the one I mentioned before."
Xia He bows slightly. "Princess Li Niyue, Xia He from the Puppet Palace, greets you."
Li Niyue studies him, one brow lifting. "Why would the Puppet Palace send one of the Heavenly Ranking to the south?"
"Princess," Wenrui interjects quickly, "he is also investigating the Demon Palace."
Her gaze sharpens. "And why is that?"
Xia He lowers his head. "Forgive me, Princess. It is a secret of my sect."
Li Niyue holds his eyes for a heartbeat, then turns away without a word. The woman in purple follows her out of the courtyard.
Wenrui sighs. "Brother, don't worry. I'll speak to the Princess later."
That evening, as the group gathers around a wooden table for dinner, Gu Yan glances at Xia He with curiosity. "Brother Xia He, what exactly is the Heavenly Ranking?"
"It's a list of the top thousand warlocks most likely to advance to the Dark Sun Realm," Xia He replies calmly.
The group exchanges astonished looks, hearing about it for the first time. Only the princess and Li Na remain unmoved.
Wang Ji leans forward. "Then what's your ranking?"
"Twenty-three," Xia He answers without pride.
A soft groan of disappointment passes around the table, though Wenrui's eyes gleam with fighting spirit. In his past life, he had been obsessed with battle, challenging martial artists across continents and becoming the youngest to break through the Kong Jin Realm. That spirit still burns in him.
Li Na, the woman in the purple dress, sighs. "You uncultured fools. You don't even understand what the Heavenly Ranking means to us warlocks."
Gu Yan grins. "Then enlighten us."
Li Na folds her arms. "With enough resources, half of all warlocks can reach the Moon Realm. But among a thousand Moon Realm warlocks, only ten ever break through to the Dark Sun Realm. If you're listed on the Heavenly Ranking, your chances rise dramatically."
Their eyes widen at the weight of her words.
The princess adds softly, "And the higher your ranking, the greater your chance of breaking through."
Wenrui nods slowly. "Who creates this list?"
"The Bai Family Chamber of Commerce," Xia He says.
"And how do they decide the rankings?" Wenrui presses.
"With every scrap of information circulating through the markets," Xia He replies.
Gu Yan frowns. "Then what's stopping the Bai Family from ranking their own warlocks higher to give them the advantage?"
Li Na laughs, shaking her head. "It doesn't work like that."
The princess looks at Gu Yan. "It's said that luck itself bends toward the list. Those named upon it draw a portion of the world's illusory luck because people believe in its credibility. If no one believed, it would be just ink on paper—nothing that could shape fate."
Wang Ji scratches his head. "Then who's at the top?"
Xia He's eyes glint with mischief as he glances at the princess. She keeps her expression calm, but Li Na's subtle shift betrays that she knows the answer.
"It's someone familiar to all of you," Xia He says.
"Who?" Gu Yan leans forward, his voice eager. Wenrui watches silently, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
Xia He takes out an image stone and places it in the centre of the table. As his weird energy flows into it, the faint hum of power ripples through the air. A projection flickers to life above the stone—showing a rocky mountain under a dark, burning sun.
A woman in a dark green dress appears, standing atop a stone monolith, a butterfly-shaped hairpin gleaming in her hair.
Wang Ji leans forward. "Is she the number one on the Heavenly Ranking?"
Li Na shakes her head. "No. She's Gue Xinlan, chief disciple of the Insect Palace—and already a Dark Sun Realm warlock."
The image shifts. Gue Xinlan moves her hand, and chains of lightning descend toward a lone figure. The man dodges, his movements calm and precise. They see only his back at first—until he flips backwards, landing lightly on his feet.
The group freezes. Then Wenrui's entire team rises at once, voices overlapping in shock.
"Jingxuan!"
Gu Yan stares wide-eyed. "He's first? But didn't he become a warlock only six months ago?"
Wang Ji clenches his fists. "Then the list must be nonsense. No one rises to first place that fast."
Their faces tighten with unease, but Wenrui stays composed.
In his mind, though, he replays the scene—the battle, the precision, the power. He knows he cannot match Jingxuan yet.
But the thought doesn't break his spirit. It fuels it. One day, he will stand equal.
He glances at the princess.
Her calm expression mirrors the serene determination he once saw in Ming Yi's eyes, the reason he cannot lose to Jingxuan.
The resemblance is unmistakable.
The possibility grows in his heart—she could be Ming Yi's reincarnation. If he could awaken his past memories through the National Martial Art, then perhaps she could too.
Wang Ji breaks the silence, frowning. "But Xia He, if you're ranked twenty-three, how were you so weak against those Demon Hall members that day?"
Xia He gives an embarrassed smile. "That day, I didn't bring all my puppets. And inside the Divine Domain, my strength was suppressed to the Warlock Realm."
The others nod, and the conversation fades. They finish their meal quietly, then retreat to their rooms to rest for the night.
A few days later, the group sets out into the forest beyond Muye Village. The deeper they go, the denser the mist grows, and the air fills with strange whispers. Weirds begin to appear—first lesser ones, then stronger and more intelligent forms.
Soon, they spot a humanoid figure standing amid the trees. Her body is made of thorn-covered vines and rose branches, her limbs slender and green, her face hidden within a blooming rose the size of a head. A faint pink mist drifts around her, warping perception and dulling focus.
Li Na narrows her eyes. "A mid-level weird. Rose Fairy."
Wenrui and his teammates are tense, weapons ready. The princess raises her divine weapon, a faint golden glow lighting her form, while Li Na summons a pair of metal gauntlets that gleam under the filtered sunlight.
Xia He steps forward calmly. "Let me handle this."
He presses his palm to the ground. Two black coffins rise silently from the soil, their lids sliding open. From within, a male and a female puppet step out, eyes cold, blades glinting. With a wordless command, they rush forward.
The Rose Fairy's arms stretch and twist, turning into vine whips that lash out in a blur, cutting the air. The puppets dart and weave, exchanging slashes that send petals and vines scattering.
Then, in a blink, both puppets leap backwards and land side by side. The Rose Fairy freezes mid-motion.
Only then do the others notice the faint metallic glint around her—a web of silver threads crisscrossing her body from every angle.
Xia He raises his hand slightly. "Puppet Art—Thousand Silk Guillotine."
The wires tighten with a sharp, metallic hum.
The Rose Fairy's body jerks once—then shreds apart into a thousand fragments of vine and petal before dissolving into mist.
Wang Ji steps forward to collect the weird core—but finds nothing. No core drops from the dissipating remains. "Where's the core?" he mutters, frowning.
Xia He looks around. "The power of the Divine Domain here is nearly nonexistent."
Gu Yan glances upward. "But we can still see the Golden Sun."
Li Na shakes her head. "We're still inside the Divine Domain, but its influence doesn't reach this deep. There's no large human settlement nearby to anchor its power."
The group nods in understanding and continues forward.
They press deeper into the wilds, fighting strange and twisted weirds as they go. Day blurs into night, and the road becomes rougher, wilder.
By the time the third moon rises, they come upon a new sight—a vast bamboo forest shrouded in glowing green mist.
Wenrui stops and narrows his eyes. "Poison Bamboo."
Xia He takes a vial from his sleeve and drinks. The others do the same, swallowing antidotes before stepping into the toxic grove. The air hums faintly, every breath tinged with venomous energy.
They move cautiously, weaving through the tall, whispering stalks until at last the forest opens up into a wide clearing.
Under the night sky, the three moons cast silver and pale green light upon an ancient castle standing at the centre of the clearing—its walls black as ink, its towers wrapped in drifting, ghostly mist.
As the group nears the castle, shadows stir. From behind the ruined arches and broken statues, figures in black robes emerge—members of the Demon Palace.
The clash is immediate and brutal. Inside the castle's shattered halls, the sound of steel, spells, and dying screams echoes through the cold air.
Wenrui's hands blaze with silver light, his strikes slicing through a Demon Palace member's crimson energy that burns like acid. The silver energy cuts clean, severing the attack in two.
His team fights beside him with fierce determination. With Wenrui's guidance, they have all practised the National Martial Arts—Wang Ji and Gu Yan, the most gifted, reaching the Hui Jin realm, while the rest have broken into An Jin.
Their internal strength and movement are sharp, but their bodies still tremble under the corrosive demonic energy. They dodge, deflect, and endure. Even when hit, they press on, their willpower burning brighter than pain.
The princess stands behind them, her divine bow drawn. Each arrow she releases pierces through darkness, guided by divine energy that takes one life after another. Beside her, Li Na moves with precision, her gauntlets striking away incoming attacks to shield the princess.
Across the hall, Xia He is locked in a deadly exchange with three Demon Palace warlocks. They are all in the same realm—his skill gives him the edge, but their teamwork binds him like a net. Each time he gains ground, the others close in, forcing him back.
The tide shifts when one of the trio falters—a divine arrow from the princess pierces his shoulder. In that instant, Xia He seizes the opening. His puppets lunge forward, one blow crushing a skull, another severing an arm.
He wounds the second opponent and turns to finish the third—
But before his strike lands, a suffocating pressure falls upon the battlefield.
It crushes the air itself.
Everyone freezes, breath caught in their throats as an overwhelming power sweeps across the battlefield like a tidal wave.
From above the shattered ceiling, a masked figure descends, robes fluttering in the moonlight. In one hand, he holds a black box veined with crimson light.
The surviving Demon Palace members drop to their knees in fear and reverence. "Elder!" they cry.
Wenrui's group gathers quickly, forming a defensive line. Xia's face hardens. "That pressure… he's a Dark Sun Realm warlock. Do you have any cards left?"
No one answers; their silence is answer enough.
The masked elder lowers his gaze toward his subordinates, voice sharp with contempt. "Waste."
Then he turns his palm toward Wenrui's group. A wave of red light ripples outward, condensing into hundreds of crimson ice spears—each one humming with lethal cold and killing intent.
The air howls as the spears shoot forward.
Xia He steps out in front, slamming his hand to the ground. His puppets rush toward him, merging—wood, metal, and spirit threads weaving into a towering construct. The giant puppet roars and crosses its arms, shielding the group as the spears crash into it.
A thunderous impact follows.
The puppet shatters into fragments, scattering across the floor. The explosion of weird energy tears through the hall.
Xia He staggers back, blood spilling from his lips. His connection to the puppets twists in agony; the rupture of the cores burns through his veins like molten lead.
Before anyone can move, the masked figure attacks again—his second wave even faster.
This time, the princess steps forward. Her divine armour flares with radiant light, golden patterns spreading across the air, forming a barrier before them.
The red spears slam into it.
The barrier trembles violently, cracks spreading across the golden surface. The princess's face pales as she struggles to hold it. Her divine energy pours out like a river against the elder's oppressive might.
The two forces—divine gold and demonic crimson—collide in a storm of light and sound, shaking the castle to its foundations.
Wenrui stands just behind the princess, his nails digging into his palms, every muscle trembling with restraint. He wants to rush forward, to shield her with his own body, but her divine light holds him in place like an unspoken command.
Then a sharp, crystalline sound cuts through the roar of clashing powers. Cracks begin to spread across the golden barrier, thin at first, then branching wildly like veins on shattered glass.
His heart freezes.
The divine armour's light flickers, fades, and then shatters completely. The fragments of golden energy scatter into the air before being drawn back into the princess's body, her armour vanishing as the glow around her dims.
High above, the masked figure raises his arm again, his voice cold and absolute. "Die."
Hundreds of crimson ice spears materialise, sharper and denser than before, raining down like a storm of destruction.
Despair grips the group. None of them can move fast enough.
At that instant, Wenrui steps forward. His hand rises, palm facing the incoming spears, and he channels everything—his inner energy, his will, his rage—into a single point.
A silver barrier erupts before him, glowing with blinding intensity. The first volley of spears shatters against it, but the next wave pierces through, tearing the barrier apart.
The others dive to avoid the strikes. Wenrui cannot.
Crimson spears slice through his barrier and graze his body, cutting deep lines across his chest and arms. Blood splatters the ground. His breath comes ragged, and his knees threaten to give way.
In that instant of weakness, a single image flashes through his mind—Ming Yi's face, calm and radiant, smiling at him.
Something inside him snaps.
A roar tears from his throat, primal and furious. The mark of Kratos on his arm ignites, flaring like molten fire. Red lines surge across his skin, tracing his veins like living flame.
The silver barrier before him turns red.
The crimson light expands, cracks the air itself, and then explodes outward in a devastating shockwave.
All the red ice spears disintegrate instantly—reduced to dust by the eruption of his power.
The masked elder's robe whips violently in the backlash as the entire castle trembles under the force of Wenrui's unleashed might.
Before the elder can even move, Wenrui vanishes and reappears in front of him, his eyes blazing with fury. His fist slams into the elder's stomach with a sound like thunder.
The masked figure shoots backwards, smashing through a pillar and crashing into the far wall. The box in his hand slips from his grasp, falling and breaking apart as it hits the ground.
A red foot—smooth, sculpted, and pulsing with demonic light—floats out of the shattered box. It flares once, then dissolves into a stream of runes that pierce straight into Wenrui's chest.
He screams.
Red energy erupts from his body, wild and violent, shaking the air itself. The markings on his skin twist and thicken like living veins, and his eyes turn a blazing crimson.
Across the room, the elder staggers to his feet. His mask cracks down the middle and falls away, revealing a gaunt, pale face filled with shock and fury.
Wenrui charges, roaring, his steps cracking the marble floor. The elder thrusts his palm, conjuring a massive ice wall between them.
Wenrui smashes through it with one punch—but the instant is enough for the elder to retreat, rising into the air and vanishing into the night sky.
Wenrui stands in the broken hall, chest heaving. He turns and realises all members of the Demon Palace have already fled, scattered in terror after his blow.
Only his own group remains.
But his crimson eyes find them, and reason vanishes. He roars, the sound tearing through the castle, and rushes toward them like a beast out of control.
Halfway there, his steps falter. His body shakes violently. With gritted teeth and veins bulging on his neck, he forces out a single word.
"Escape…"
The red energy surges again, threatening to consume him whole.
At that moment, the bracelets on the princess's wrists flare with divine light. They break free from her arms, flying through the air, and clamp tightly around Wenrui's wrists.
Golden light bursts out, swallowing the red glow. The demonic markings fade, his body trembling as the energy inside him is forcibly sealed.
Then silence.
Wenrui collapses to the ground, unconscious, steam rising from his body as the last of the crimson energy dissipates into the air.
-----------------
Two weeks later, Jingxuan emerges from his secluded cave, his body completely healed and the traces of petrification erased. His subordinates—loyal warlocks who had guarded him throughout his recovery—follow behind as they descend the mountain path toward their home.
After a full day of rest, Jingxuan visits the town market and meets a merchant from the Bai family chamber of commerce. They exchange brief greetings before Jingxuan gets to the point.
"Can your chamber sell rare or special grade water and wind attribute cores?"
The merchant hesitates, fingers brushing the edge of his ledger. "Common grade, yes, that can be arranged easily. But rare and special grade cores… I'm afraid our stock doesn't include any of those."
Jingxuan's shoulders drop slightly. He lets out a slow sigh, eyes narrowing as thoughts churn behind them. Then where can I find the cores I need…
The merchant studies his face, then leans forward with a hint of interest. "I may have a suggestion, sir."
Jingxuan lifts his gaze. "Go on."
"There's been some talk from the empire. A bandit has declared himself king in the Thunderstorm Mountains. The officials are preparing to suppress him soon."
Jingxuan's eyes flicker with curiosity. "And what does that have to do with water and wind attribute cores?"
The merchant smiles faintly. "The Thunderstorm Mountains are said to be home to many rare and special grade weirds—particularly those of the wind and water elements. If you're searching for such cores, that's where you'll find them."
Jingxuan says nothing for a while, only nodding slightly as the merchant takes his leave, disappearing into the bustle of the street.
Left alone, Jingxuan's thoughts settle like storm clouds. Thunderstorm Mountains… bandits… weirds with the cores I need.
The next morning, he takes flight toward Sandrift City, his robe fluttering in the wind. Upon arrival, he seeks out Su Qianyu and accepts the imperial mission to suppress the rebellion in the Thunderstorm Mountains.
From there, he heads to the main temple and pays for the use of its divine travel ability. Moments later, golden light engulfs him—and when it fades, he steps out into the streets of Kira City, one of the closest cities to the Thunderstorm Mountains.