The leader of the Fang-Rock Apes stood before Qing Zilong. Both locked gazes. Neither moved; neither dared to lower their guard even for a second.Qing Zilong gripped the remains of his broken sword tightly. His fingers turned pale from the pressure, while blood continued to drip slowly from the tip of the blade, which now resembled little more than a dagger. Before him, the Fang-Rock Ape let out a heavy, roaring breath.Huk... Huk...The giant body was covered in wounds. Thick blood flowed from between its coarse fur, dripping onto soil already contaminated by the blood of the Wolf King. Zilong did not lower his sword. His gaze darted rapidly, assessing the condition of his opponent.Rank Four.In peak condition, Zilong might have been able to find an opening to win. But the reality was far from that. The Qi in his Dantian was nearly dry. His meridians ached, groaning from being forced to channel energy beyond their limits. The wound on his ribs had reopened, his shoulder was torn, a

A low, rumbling roar shook the depths of the forest once again. Qing Zilong, who had been sitting cross-legged within the narrow crevice of a rock, slowly opened his eyes. In the distance, visible through a gap in the dense foliage, he could see flashes of bluish-white lightning tearing across the horizon.The sky directly above him remained eerily calm, devoid of dark clouds or any warning signs of a storm. Only the silence of the forest was occasionally interrupted by that unnatural, thundering sound.Zilong’s gaze sharpened. His mind instantly drifted to the peculiar scars on the back of the Fanged Rock Ape he had encountered earlier—branching, claw-like marks left by lingering electrical energy. Now, this strange phenomenon at the heart of the Black Fog Forest only solidified his theory.All the clues pointed to a single conclusion."Lightning Stone Powder," he murmured softly.It was the final ingredient he needed to perfect the Ancient Qi Ocean Pill. A subtle curve formed at the

Three days is an eternity for those who bet their lives under the shadows of the Black Fog Forest. While Qing Zilong was recovering in the silent isolation of his cave, the forest's ecosystem had shifted. The cloudless lightning phenomenon had become a magnet; various groups of mercenaries, wandering cultivators, and treasure hunters had begun to swarm, arriving from every direction to try their luck at the heart of the Black Fog Forest.Zilong, however, was unaware of the commotion. He had only just stepped out from his hiding place. The morning sun pierced through the gaps in the canopy, illuminating a face that still bore the pallor of a recovery left unfinished.He rolled his shoulders, rotated his wrists, and then—Crack! The sound of his joints echoed faintly through the silence."Not fully recovered yet," he muttered. He clenched his fist, feeling the flow of Qi beginning to integrate once more with his muscles. "But it's enough."Zilong had barely taken a few inches before he

By midday, the stone walls of Black Cloud City finally appeared, slicing through the horizon. Qing Zilong stood still in the middle of the crowded cobblestone road, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at the towering gates. After days of living in the deathly silence of the Black Fog Forest, the roar of carriage wheels, the shouting of merchants, and the clamor of human conversation felt alien, as if his world had just rotated one hundred and eighty degrees.The main road leading to the city gate was a microcosm of frantic activity. Loaded trade carriages creaked along, pulled by weary beasts of burden. Groups of mercenaries passed by with boisterous laughter, flaunting hunting trophies that still dripped with blood, while in the corners, wandering cultivators sat cross-legged, offering everything from healing pills and rusted weaponry to crude maps promising shortcuts to the center of the Black Fog Forest.Zilong moved calmly through the throng. His contrasting appearance drew immediate a

Qing Zilong stepped into the Spirit Pill Pavilion with a composure that stood in stark contrast to the chaotic atmosphere outside. As the heavy teak doors creaked open, a thick, complex aroma of herbs immediately assaulted his senses. To anyone versed in alchemy, the scent was unmistakable: the dominant, soothing sweetness of Qi-Gathering Grass, followed by the sharp, pungent sting of Red Blood Flowers—a scent known to trigger an adrenaline spike—and finally, the faint, bone-chilling cold emanating from the remnants of Frost Roots stored on the cooling racks.Zilong’s pace slowed. His eyes swept across the room with a deeply analytical gaze. Unlike the Black Cloud Weapon Pavilion, which was always filled with the deafening roar of hammers and the hiss of hot iron plunged into water, this place was eerily silent. The atmosphere felt both sacred and rigid. Tall teak shelves lined the walls, each housing jade bottles of various colors, shapes, and carvings—a silent code for the initiated