After leaving the ruins of Cold Mist Village, Xue Mingyu walked alone through the wilderness for three full days.
For three days, he saw no living soul. He survived on wild fruit and stream water, clinging to life by a thread. The Hellish Demonic Sword, having gorged itself on the souls of five Spirit Masters, slept like a satisfied beast. The crimson veins on the blade no longer pulsed; it was nothing but a slab of cold, silent iron.
In those three days, he slowly chewed and swallowed the reality of his parents' death. The sorrow hadn't vanished—it had been ground into a fine powder by his thickening hatred, settling deep into his marrow and blood.
On the dusk of the fourth day, he finally spotted pillars of hearth smoke: Sunset Town.
Because of its proximity to the Sunset Forest, the town was a hive for Spirit Masters and hunters. The streets were dominated by shops buying spirit beast materials and medicinal herbs, and black-market stalls hawking information and gear.
Mingyu stood at the town entrance, watching the passing Spirit Masters and merchants. A flicker of cold calculation crossed his gaze.
He had two problems to solve:
First, survival. He needed money, food, and shelter.
Second, strength. His Martial Soul had awakened, but he had no Spirit Ring. He was merely a novice whose Innate Spirit Power remained a mystery.
Using the last copper soul coins in his pocket, he rented the cheapest kennel available—a three-square-meter hole, pitch black and windowless. He didn't care. It was a roof over his head.
Late that night, lying on a wooden cot as hard as stone, he sank his consciousness into his inner world. The Hellish Demonic Sword hovered in his mental sea, its dark red runes flowing slowly, radiating an eerie, unholy light.
"My Innate Spirit Power... what is it?"
Mingyu attempted to sense the energy within his meridians. A warm current flowed through him—weak, but undeniably present.
From the memory fragments of the dead Spirit Masters, he knew that a commoner's Innate Spirit Power usually fell between rank one and ten. Those who reached Rank 10: Full Innate Spirit Power were considered peerless geniuses.
And he...
"Rank Seven."
Mingyu opened his eyes, a complex look flitting through them. It wasn't bad, but it certainly wasn't the mark of a "genius."
However, the unique ability of the Demonic Sword might just bridge that gap. He remembered the sensation of devouring those five souls—the power, the memories, and even a portion of their Spirit Power had been siphoned by the blade. While most of that energy went toward the sword's own evolution, a small fraction had fed back into him.
His power had jumped from Rank 5 at the moment of awakening to Rank 7 now.
"If I keep devouring..." His knuckles turned white from the force of his grip. "My cultivation speed will leave everyone in the dust."
But he knew the danger. Surrendering entirely to the hunger of the sword would twist his mind, turning him into a mindless engine of slaughter. His parents' final words echoed in his ears: Be strong, but do not lose your humanity.
"I need a line in the sand," he whispered, his voice like a blade grinding against stone. "No indiscriminate killing. I only devour the souls that deserve it. And... spirit beasts."
This was his boundary. He could be cruel, he could be bloodthirsty, but he would not be a butcher of the innocent. Otherwise, how would he be any different from those hypocritical beasts of the Heaven Dou Empire?
The Next Morning: The Outskirts of Sunset Forest
Mingyu entered the forest with a simple cloth bag on his back and the Demonic Sword in hand.
The Sunset Forest was one of the continent's primary habitats for spirit beasts. The outskirts were home to low-level creatures ranging from ten to a hundred years of age—perfect for a novice's training. Deep within, it was rumored that terrifying 10,000-year or even 100,000-year monsters resided.
For now, Mingyu stayed on the fringe. His goal was clear: hunt low-level spirit beasts, devour their blood and souls to grow stronger, and harvest valuable materials to trade for Gold Soul Coins. Once he had enough gold, he would hire a mercenary team to help him hunt a truly worthy first Spirit Ring.
He hadn't been in the forest for half an hour before he found his first prey.
A ten-year-old Gale Rabbit was nibbling on tender grass in the brush. These beasts were fast but lacked offensive power—the primary choice for rookies.
Mingyu lightened his footsteps, closing in like a shadow. The Gale Rabbit's ears twitched, sensing a disturbance, but it was already too late.
Mingyu lunged. The Demonic Sword flashed like black lightning.
Schlick!
Blood sprayed. Before the rabbit could even bolt, it was decapitated. As the warm spray hit the blade, the sword emitted a satisfied hum. The crimson gem flared, and the blood was absorbed instantly.
Then, a faint orb of light drifted from the carcass—its soul. Weak, but real. The sword drew it in greedily.
"A ten-year soul is too weak," Mingyu frowned. "I need stronger prey."
He skillfully skinned the rabbit. The pelt would fetch a few Silver Soul Coins in town.
For the next three days, Mingyu became a cold-blooded predator of the outskirts. Gale Rabbits, Rock-Armored Rats, Iron-Beaked Birds... beasts ranging from ten to eighty years of age fell beneath his blade.
His swordsmanship grew sharper, his movements more precise. The crimson runes on the Demonic Sword grew more vivid with every drop of blood. Most importantly, he felt his Spirit Power rising steadily.
By the end of the third day, he had climbed from Rank 7 to Rank 8. To an ordinary Spirit Master, this speed was impossible—cultivating without a Spirit Ring was notoriously slow. But for Mingyu, it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
The Fourth Day: The Edge of the Inner Forest
Mingyu was heading back to town, lugging a heavy bag of materials. Between the pelts, talons, and several rare herbs, he estimated his haul at nearly fifty Gold Soul Coins.
Just as he prepared to leave, a piercing bestial roar erupted nearby, followed by human screams.
"Help!"
"Damn it! Why is this beast out here in the perimeter?!"
Mingyu's brow furrowed. He scaled a tree with practiced ease, looking toward the source of the commotion. In a nearby clearing, three Spirit Masters were desperately dodging the attacks of a massive creature.
It was a giant wolf, three meters long and jet-black. Its fangs were like daggers, its eyes a malevolent scarlet. The Spirit Power radiating from it was suffocating.
"An Shadow Demon Wolf... at least three hundred years old," Mingyu noted, his heart tightening. Such a beast had no business being in the outskirts.
Looking at the trio's Spirit Rings, they were all merely one-ring Spirit Masters. They were hopelessly outmatched.
"Not my problem," Mingyu's instinct told him to leave. In this world, meddling usually led to a quick grave.
But as he turned, a desperate cry reached him: "Is anyone there?! Save us! We'll pay a hundred Gold Soul Coins!"
A hundred Gold Soul Coins.
Mingyu's feet stopped. To him, that was a fortune.
He looked back at the Shadow Demon Wolf, a spark of heat igniting in his eyes. A 300-year-old soul... how much power would he gain if he devoured it? More importantly, he needed a real battle to test his growth.
"I'll take the gamble."
Mingyu took a deep breath and leapt from the branch, charging toward the battlefield. The Demonic Sword hummed, sensing its master's killing intent, its runes flashing violently.
"Kid! Run!" a scarred Spirit Master screamed in terror as he saw Mingyu approach. "You can't handle this!"
Mingyu didn't hear him. His world had narrowed down to the Shadow Demon Wolf.
"ROAR!" The wolf noticed the tiny intruder, its red eyes flickering with disdain. To it, this was just a snack delivered to its doorstep. It whipped around, its claws tearing through the air toward Mingyu's throat.
It was blindingly fast.
But Mingyu was faster. The days of slaughter in the forest had honed his combat instincts to a razor's edge. He pivoted, the claws missing him by a hair, and swung the Demonic Sword upward in a vicious counter!
Slash!
The blade bit into the wolf's foreleg. Blood erupted.
"Awooo!" The wolf howled in fury. It hadn't expected this human whelp to actually wound it. It launched a frantic assault—claws, fangs, and tail weaving a lethal net of steel and fur.
Mingyu gritted his teeth, dancing on the knife-edge of death. His speed and reflexes were pushed to their absolute limits. Several times, claws grazed his skin, shredding his clothes.
Yet his eyes remained unnervingly calm. The combat experience from the dead soldiers' memories flowed through him.
"Now!"
When the wolf lunged again, exposing a momentary opening, Mingyu didn't dodge. He stepped into the strike.
"Trading wounds? Fool!" The wolf's fangs sank into Mingyu's shoulder.
But Mingyu's goal wasn't evasion. He jammed his left hand into the wolf's lower jaw, ignoring the agony of the fangs piercing his flesh. With his right hand, he drove the Hellish Demonic Sword straight into the wolf's throat!
Pshhh—!
The blade went through.
Blood geysered out, drenching Mingyu from head to toe.
The Shadow Demon Wolf let out a final, gurgling whimper before its massive body crashed to the ground.
Mingyu dropped to one knee, his left shoulder a bloody mess, but his right hand held the sword firmly in the wolf's neck. The blade vibrated violently, the crimson gem erupting in a blinding light.
The wolf's blood was siphoned away. Then, an orb of light—far larger and more potent than anything he had harvested before—floated out.
A 300-year-old soul.
The Demonic Sword sang a jubilant note as it swallowed the light. Mingyu felt a tidal wave of power surge through his veins. His Spirit Power exploded.
Rank 8... Rank 9... Rank 10!
The energy surged, pushing against the barrier of his rank, but without a Spirit Ring, he was held at the precipice of Rank 10.
"So... strong..." Mingyu panted, his eyes shining with a dark, feverish excitement.
"You... you actually killed it?"
The three Spirit Masters stared, shell-shocked. A child who looked barely six or seven, a boy without a single Spirit Ring, had just brought down a 300-year-old Shadow Demon Wolf.
"Cough..." Mingyu spat out a mouthful of bloody phlegm and stood up, looking at them coldly. "My hundred Gold Soul Coins. Give them to me."
The leader snapped out of his daze and fumbled for a pouch. "Here... here are a hundred coins! All yours! Little brother... may I ask your name?"
"What business is it of yours?" Mingyu gave him a chilling glance, snatched the pouch, and looked at the wolf's carcass. "The body is mine as well."
"Of... of course!"
The three dared not refuse. To them, the boy standing before them wasn't a child. He was a monster.