The wilderness did not forgive, but it no longer frightened him. Karma had taken its chaos and worn it like a second skin.
His heavy, dust-stained cloak snapped in the high wind as he crossed a ridge of shattered obsidian stone. The land still bore the violent wounds of the Dual Calamity—canyons scarred by colossal lightning strikes and vast plains scorched by primal fire that pulsed faintly with unstable residual qi. He moved through them with the deliberate ease of a creature that had claimed this territory.
Ten hours to Veinspire if you stop picking unnecessary fights, his internal system, Mira, advised, sounding both professional and weary. Your energy signature is attracting attention, Host.
"I'm not picking them," Karma murmured, his eyes sweeping the desolate horizon, absorbing every flicker of movement. "They keep finding me, or rather, they keep finding it."
The Hunt and The Harvest
The plains ahead shimmered with spirit mist, thick with raw, condensed qi. This was the fringe of the disaster zone, where destruction had paradoxically given birth to exotic, powerful life. From the deep cracks in the earth sprouted strange flora that couldn't exist anywhere else—flowers with petals made of resilient, polished metal, grass that hummed softly with latent power, and thick vines that bled liquid light when snapped. The air itself tingled on his skin, a constant reminder of the volatile energies swirling inside him.
He knelt beside a cluster of Heavensteel Grass, its silver blades trembling under an invisible wind, and clipped the specimens with practiced care. This wasn't merely harvesting; it was selective looting of a battlefield. Into his heavy satchel went brittle Ironwood bark, dense Molten Behemoth marrow stones scavenged from scattered bone fragments, and the crystalline remains of smaller beasts already consumed by the storm's raw power.
He examined a piece of amber-like resin caught on a jagged rock—the solidified tear of a Core Formation beast, brimming with elemental Fire essence. As he touched it, the resin pulsed faintly, recognizing him as a hybrid entity—something between man and elemental calamity.
That resin is worth three mid-grade spirit stones in the lower markets. Nice find, Mira approved.
He carefully sealed it. "Every stone matters. The Su Clan won't be easy to approach."
When minor monsters did appear—Foundation and early Core Formation beasts too dumb, too territorial, or too ravenous to heed his newly acquired apex aura—he did not slow his pace.
One creature, a subterranean fiend called an Earth-Splitter Worm, lunged from beneath the soil, its jagged jaws splitting the ground like an opening gate. Karma met the charge with a deceptive flicker of movement, his sword leaving its sheath only long enough to trace a thin, azure line of light through the beast's neck. The creature's massive head slid off a heartbeat later, landing with a sickening thud meters away.
Another tried to ambush him from above, a large Core-class thunderbird with wings spread wide. Lightning immediately gathered at Karma's fingertips, drawn instinctively by the Black Lotus essence in his core, which now responded to chaotic qi with incredible speed.
"Thundering Vein Slash."
The bolt left his hand and split the creature in two mid-flight with brutal precision. Its raw, dying scream echoed like a gong before the profound silence of the wilds reclaimed the valley.
You're experimenting with elemental resonance again. I approve. Less world-eating, more controlled technique. That strike demonstrated a 95% efficiency rating, Mira noted with satisfaction.
"Control before power," he said simply, sheathing his sword. "The raw power is useless if I can't channel it precisely."
Every victory fed his understanding rather than his arrogance. He studied how lightning curved through bone, how fire bent under wind. He was learning the language of destruction. When he wasn't fighting, he gathered valuable herbs or mediated beside streams that glowed faintly with concentrated spirit particles.
His pack grew heavy with rare finds; his heart, however, remained steady and clear. He felt the constant, rhythmic pulse of the dual Lotus in his chest—the Green anchoring the soul, the Black feeding the Devour technique with limitless potential.
By the time the sun touched the horizon again, his qi had thickened to the consistency of flowing, molten metal. A new, fragile barrier trembled inside him—the clear threshold of early Core Formation. He was one small push away from the next major realm.
Don't push it yet. You're still stabilizing the chaotic remnants of the last breakthrough. And honestly, you look terrifying enough without adding unstable power to the mix, Mira advised seriously. You have the presence of a natural disaster.
"Terrifying keeps me alive, Mira. And it's much more efficient than using my voice."
So does discretion. Try employing some of it for the next ten hours.
He smiled faintly, the edge of his lips barely moving, and kept walking, his steps absorbing every tremor in the earth.
The Gathering Tide
As he neared Veinspire's outer limits, the silence that had been his companion for days violently shattered.
The change was immediate and jarring. He crested a hill and saw the horizon choked with movement. Dozens—no, hundreds—of cultivators were rushing headlong into the wilds, their brightly colored robes streaming like banners, their voices loud and bright with undisguised greed.
"Stormfall's veins are stable again! The deep zones are open for treasure hunting!"
"Residual elemental treasures everywhere—spirit crystals, thunder eggs, rare herbs! We'll make a fortune before the sects clamp down!"
"Move, you slow fools, before the major guilds claim everything!"
The air vibrated with the aggressive clash of competing auras—a toxic mix of Qi Condensation laborers and reckless Foundation Establishment adventurers. Flying swords cut chaotic arcs through the clouds, posing a greater danger to each other than to any monster. Heavy wagons bearing proud sect insignias thundered past, kicking up immense clouds of dust. The wilderness that had been silent for weeks now boiled with human ambition and avarice.
Karma immediately pulled his hood low, letting the shadow mask his intense eyes and the faint residual glow on his face. He stepped sharply aside, allowing the surging flood to pass. Most cultivators brushed by without a second glance—too narrowly focused on the promise of immediate riches to notice a lone wanderer in a dusty, travel-stained cloak. To them, anyone not running into the disaster zone was irrelevant.
He watched a skirmish break out barely fifty meters away—two Foundation cultivators fighting over a single, small patch of shimmering moss. Their techniques were clumsy, their anger fierce. This was the difference between the wilds and civilization: outside, you fought for survival; here, they fought for coins.
Their methods are inefficient and loud, Mira observed with disdain. This mass influx provides perfect cover for our entry. Do not engage.
Karma agreed silently. He was carrying enough power to flatten the entire skirmish, but any display of strength would draw the unwanted attention of the powerful cultivators.
He melted into the edge of the throng, using their desperate excitement as his personal shield. He moved slowly, deliberately, giving the appearance of a tired scavenger who had missed the real prize, only carrying a few herbs and metals in a bag, while keeping everything valuable in his ring, hoping no one would notice him.
But not everyone was blind.