“Possessing the Thousand Remedies of Healing does not mean I can brew medicine,” Lin Jiang muttered, frustration tightening his brow. He turned the pages with trembling fingers, the parchment smelling faintly of dried herbs and ink, yet the words seemed to blur before his eyes. The ache in his chest throbbed with every breath, the claw marks burning like fire beneath his skin. “Perhaps healing is not my gift,” he sighed, sliding the manual back into the Spatial Ring. The forest air pressed heavy around him, damp with the scent of moss and decaying leaves. A faint mist curled between the trees, carrying the earthy aroma of wet soil. The distant cries of unseen beasts echoed like whispers, reminding him that danger lurked in every shadow. He clenched his spear tightly, ignoring the pain in his chest, and stepped deeper into the realm of demons. His purpose was clear: to slay as many of them as possible, to grow stronger, and to carve his path forward. A sudden explosion shattered th

The White Skull Sect, a formidable order in the Lower World, had long carried a reputation that echoed across the martial realm. For more than two decades, Elder Phi An had guided its disciples, his leadership shaping the sect into a force both feared and respected. Under his command, the sect had risen to prominence, its name whispered with reverence in the halls of warriors and scholars alike. Yet time had not been kind. In recent years, the sect’s brilliance had dimmed, its glory tarnished by the absence of prodigious disciples. The last martial tournament, held five years ago, had been a bitter humiliation. Not a single disciple of the White Skull Sect advanced beyond the first round. Their defeat was swift, their pride shattered. The shame lingered, heavy as a storm cloud over Elder Phi An’s heart. Three years remained until the next grand tournament, and the thought gnawed at him like a relentless blade. For two years he had searched tirelessly, seeking a disciple of rare ta

With a radiant smile, Lin Jiang stepped out of the weapon shop, clutching the newly awakened White Flame Sword tightly against his chest. Its hilt was warm beneath his palm, as though alive, and the faint silver glow that lingered on the blade filled him with awe. “Must you hold the sword like that, Lin Jiang?” Elder Phi An asked, his tone half amused, half reproachful. “Master, this relic is extraordinary. I fear someone might try to take it from me,” Lin Jiang replied earnestly, his eyes shining with youthful determination. “No one else can wield that sword. It has chosen you, Lin Jiang. Its power will answer only to your spirit,” Elder Phi An assured him, guiding the boy toward a lavish restaurant whose lanterns glowed warmly against the evening sky. Inside, the air was rich with the aroma of roasted meats, fragrant broths, and spiced vegetables. The polished wooden tables gleamed under candlelight, and the chatter of patrons mingled with the clinking of porcelain cups. Eld

Lin Jiang, having just ascended into the Sky Realm, chose to remain secluded in his chamber, sitting cross-legged in deep meditation. His breath was steady, yet within his body the newly awakened energy surged like a restless tide. The walls of his room seemed to hum faintly with the force of his inner power, the air heavy with the scent of burning incense and the faint metallic tang of spiritual energy. He knew he had to master this strength, to tame the storm that now coursed through his veins. Outside, beneath the shade of an ancient tree in the rear courtyard of the White Skull Sect, Elder Phi An sat with Elder An Chi. The leaves rustled softly above them, carrying the fragrance of damp earth and pine. “Phi An, has Lin Jiang’s bones and blood channels reached perfection?” Elder An Chi asked, his voice low but probing. “Far from it, An Chi. His condition confuses me greatly,” Elder Phi An admitted, his brow furrowed. “Why?” Elder An Chi pressed, curiosity sharpening his ton

“Hahaha! This boy dares challenge me?” roared the bandit leader, his voice echoing through the dense forest. “Chief Bu Tong, kill him!” shouted one of his men, their cries rising like a chorus of bloodlust. Whusssss!! Before Bu Tong could respond, a figure in white surged forward, cutting through the shadows with blinding speed. The air trembled as waves of sword energy unfurled, crashing toward the bandit chief like a storm. “Damn you!” Bu Tong cursed, hastily summoning a barrier of inner energy around his body. He braced himself, knowing the strike could not be avoided. Bammmmm!! The White Flame Sword struck, its heat searing the air. The impact exploded against Bu Tong’s shield, sending shockwaves through the forest. Trees shuddered, leaves scattered, and the ground quaked beneath the force. Bu Tong was hurled backward, his body crashing against the earth. Though uninjured, humiliation burned in his chest. His fury ignited further when he saw who had attacked him. “