“Wu Tian…” Xiuyin’s voice broke through the silence, faint and trembling, as though each syllable carried the weight of pain lodged deep within her body. “I’m here, Xiuyin!” Wu Tian answered quickly, his tone urgent yet tender. His palms hovered just above her chest, channeling what little qi he had mastered into her fragile frame. The faint glow of energy flickered between them, like a candle struggling against the wind. “You’re helping me? Where… where is Zhou Chen?” Xiuyin’s breath was shallow, her words fragile, but her eyes searched Wu Tian’s face with desperate clarity. Wu Tian’s jaw tightened. “I tried to bring him back, to remind him of the path he once walked. But the demonic aura has consumed him. He clings to it as if it were his lifeblood.” His voice faltered, and his gaze dropped to the ground, shadowed by regret. Xiuyin, seeing the sorrow etched across his features, reached out with trembling fingers and clasped his hand. Her touch was weak, yet it carried a warm

The path through the wilderness was treacherous, yet Wu Tian and Yueyin had chosen it deliberately. The main roads were no longer safe—too many eyes, too many shadows loyal to Mao Xiang’s Darkness Cultivators. Every step along the beaten track risked an ambush, a confrontation with mercenaries who would gladly trade Wu Tian’s life for prestige. The duel with Zhou Chen had taught Wu Tian a bitter truth: the world was brimming with cultivators far stronger than himself, warriors whose blades and techniques could crush him without hesitation. They would not listen to explanations, nor care that he posed no threat. To them, capturing Wu Tian was a trophy, a badge of honor—even if they were not sworn followers of the Darkness Cultivators. I must be more cautious from now on, Wu Tian thought grimly. Trusting strangers so easily could cost me my life. The forest swallowed them whole. Shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy in fractured beams, illuminating motes of dust and pollen that dr

The Ming Huan Mountains had long been whispered about as a place of mystery, a realm guarded by forest spirits who allowed no mortal to trespass. Their slopes were treacherous, hemmed in by sheer cliffs and tangled forests that seemed to breathe with secrets. Few had ever reached the foothills, and those who did found themselves barred by unseen forces, turned back by the ethereal guardians of the woods. Over time, the mountains became a forbidden legend. No one dared approach, and the aura of dread surrounding Ming Huan only deepened. Yet the villagers who lived nearby revered the spirits as divine protectors. Their settlement—Ming Huan Village—thrived in fertile abundance, shielded by the very beings outsiders feared. It was toward this enigmatic village that Wu Tian and Yueyin journeyed, arriving just as the sun dipped low, painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp soil, and the faint toll of a distant bell echoed acros

Wu Tian and Yueyin had narrowly escaped the clutches of Ming Huan Village, a place that at first glance seemed welcoming but revealed itself to be a nest of Dark Cultivator Fairies—beings who were once noble Cultivator fairies but had surrendered themselves to shadow. The night air was sharp against their skin, carrying the scent of pine and damp stone. Their breaths came ragged, echoing faintly in the silence of the mountain pass. “Wu Tian, are you alright?” Yueyin’s voice trembled, her eyes searching his face. “I’ll manage,” Wu Tian replied, forcing steadiness into his tone. “What about you?” “I’m fine,” she said, though her pallor betrayed exhaustion. “We’re lucky to have escaped that ritual. They meant to offer us to the Dark Beast.” Wu Tian’s brow furrowed. “Do you understand why the Cultivator fairies became so twisted? Why they turned into those terrifying forms?” Yueyin shook her head, her expression clouded. “I don’t know. And I’m beginning to doubt if any true Cu

“Where are we supposed to search for this mysterious shadow when we don’t even know what kind of creature it is?” Wu Tian muttered, his voice heavy with fatigue. He exhaled sharply, frustration gnawing at him. At first, he had believed the Cultivator fairies of Ming Huan would be benevolent, perhaps even the ones who could heal his broken dantian. But reality had struck cruelly—the Cultivator fairy they found, Xin Xin, carried bitterness and resentment toward Yueyin. Instead of offering help freely, she demanded they hunt down a shadowy being that haunted the mountains, promising her healing relic only if they succeeded. “So you heard Xin Xin,” Yueyin said quietly. “This is the only way we can obtain her relic. Without it, you’ll never be healed.” Wu Tian clenched his fists. “I know, Yueyin. But why is she so cruel to you? You’ve always been kind to her.” Yueyin’s eyes dimmed. “I don’t know. I’ve never wronged her.” Wu Tian’s anger flared. “She’s tormenting you, Yueyin. Send