Wu Tian awoke the next morning as the golden rays of dawn spilled across his face, warming his skin and stirring him from a heavy slumber. “Where am I? The last thing I remember was resting at the inn in Shang Ying City’s bustling center. Why am I lying here in this secluded lodge?” he wondered silently, his mind clouded with confusion. “You’re awake, Brother Tian?” Lin Wei’s voice broke the silence as he entered, carrying a tray of steaming food. “Brother Wei, where are we? Why are we here now?” Wu Tian asked, his tone sharp with bewilderment. “Eat first. I’ll explain afterward,” Lin Wei replied, setting the tray down with a calm smile. Wu Tian’s memory was fractured. He recalled nothing of his encounter with the Flower-Demon Mei Ying. All that lingered was the faint recollection of resting at the inn in Shang Ying City. “This place is beautiful, Brother Wei. Since when did you have such a retreat?” Wu Tian asked, his eyes roaming over the rustic lodge. The wooden beams g

The Darkness Qi that Tian Kui the Dragon sought was no ordinary energy—it was alive, a breathing entity, a sphere of black smoke that pulsed like a heart. Ages ago, the first cultivator had shaped it from the shadows within his own body, forging it into an eternal reservoir so that qi would never vanish from the world. Unlike the fleeting currents of ordinary qi, this Darkness Qi endured—unyielding, eternal, and dangerous. In forgotten times, qi was scarce across the universe. The Middle World and Lower World lay barren, while only the Upper World and the Celestial Realm thrived. The gods of heaven turned their gaze upward, ignoring the suffering below. In the Upper World, cultivators grew cruel, lording over mortals with arrogance, feeding upon the abundance of qi that sustained both gods and warriors. The lesser realms starved, their people left to languish in silence. It was said that the enchanted pouch itself had been crafted by that first cultivator, a vessel to contain the