Bei Ching City was unlike Shang Ying, which thrived on auction houses, entertainment halls, and martial sects. Bei Ching’s heartbeat was commerce—its streets lined with traders shouting prices, carts creaking under the weight of goods, and the salty tang of the harbor drifting inland. Yet amidst the bustling markets, there were still places of leisure, sects of martial training, and auction houses tucked between warehouses and taverns. Chen Long arrived in Bei Ching as the sun dipped low, its golden light spilling across tiled rooftops and shimmering on the waters of the port. The air was thick with the aroma of roasted meats from street vendors, mingling with the sharper scent of ink and parchment from merchants tallying their accounts. The cries of dockworkers unloading ships echoed like a chorus, while the clatter of hooves and wheels filled the cobbled streets. “Impressive,” Chen Long murmured, pausing in the crowd. “This city rivals Shang Ying. Perhaps what I seek lies here.

“It is time we return to Lo Han Village and meet the warrior of Lo Han, Wu Tian. I still believe that the martial discipline of Lo Han will help you overcome the terrifying might of the Demon Wu Xiang. Your strength now is far greater than before, but the resilience of Lo Han’s body is built upon self-reliance, not upon the flow of qi from the universe nor the ra energy that pulses within the body of a Martial Genius. The power of the Lo Han warrior is forged through the tempering of the flesh, a discipline I believe surpasses the cultivation of the spirit,” Lin Wei explained with quiet conviction. Wu Tian’s gaze lingered on him, the flickering torchlight painting shadows across his face. “Why don’t you study the Lo Han discipline yourself, Brother Wei?” he asked, his voice carrying both curiosity and a faint challenge. Lin Wei’s eyes softened, though his tone remained firm. “My duty is to safeguard the Lo Han manual, not to master it. To learn from it, one must endure the trials

“Wu Tian…!” The faint whisper called his name again, drifting through the still air like a thread of sound woven from mist. Wu Tian spun around, his eyes scanning the deserted fields, but no one stood nearby. The farmland lay silent, the tall grass swaying gently in the breeze, carrying with it the earthy scent of soil and the faint aroma of wildflowers. His heart thudded against his ribs. Could there be a ghost in broad daylight? he wondered, his thoughts echoing louder than the whisper itself. The sun hung high, its light spilling across the abandoned land, yet the shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally long. He strained his ears, desperate to confirm that what he heard was real. “Help us, Wu Tian…!” The plea pierced the air, fragile yet urgent. Wu Tian’s breath caught. “Wu Ling!” he cried, recognizing the voice instantly. His chest tightened with sudden hope. “Where are you? Speak to me!” The wind rose, sweeping across Uncle Wang’s farmland with a howl that rattled the bri

“I will keep my promise to you, Wu Tian, and search for Wu Ling! May I find her alive, so there is still hope to bring the Demon Wu Xiang back to the path of righteousness!” Feng Huang declared, lingering close beside him, her voice trembling with determination. Wu Tian’s eyes darkened, his tone heavy. “I am not certain Wu Xiang cares for Wu Ling or Uncle Wang anymore. He has already cast aside his family, seeing them only as obstacles to his ambition of becoming the strongest.” The air inside the hut was thick with silence, broken only by the faint creak of the wooden beams. Outside, the wind stirred the tall grass, carrying with it the earthy scent of soil and the faint aroma of pine. Feng Huang’s gaze held his, unwavering. “Even so, we must help the villagers of Lo Han. Their captor remains a mystery, and they suffer while we hesitate.” Wu Tian’s voice softened, though his words carried weight. “I will not force you to find Wu Ling alone. We can search for her together, after

At first glance, nothing seemed unusual in the realm they traversed. The air was calm, the sea stretched endlessly, and in the distance, the silhouette of the Mysterious Island rose, veiled in a thin shroud of mist. Its jagged cliffs loomed like silent sentinels, and the faint cries of seabirds echoed across the waves. “We head to the Mysterious Island first, Vikrama! I am certain the Demon Wu Xiang is there,” Lin Wei declared, his voice cutting through the wind. The red dragon’s wings beat steadily, stirring the salty air. “What if Wu Xiang has laid a trap upon that island, Ryder?” Vikrama asked, his tone heavy with caution. Lin Wei’s gaze was unwavering, his voice resolute. “Do not worry. I know the Mysterious Island well. Wu Xiang cannot alter it.” The dragon’s eyes glowed like embers. “Shall we land upon the shore or ascend the mountains?” Lin Wei’s voice was firm. “To the mountains. Near the cave where I keep my treasures.” With a powerful sweep of his wings, Vikrama