Darian Vexmoor, Deputy Commander of the Frostfang Mercenaries Group, Ninth Heaven cultivator… relentless. For days, he had tracked Kaelen, forcing the boy into constant retreat with his Wind Thunder Bow.
This was no ordinary weapon. Forged from refined iron, runes etched along its limbs, the Xuan-grade bow carried lethal energy with every shot. Even Kaelen’s Bronze Battle Body couldn’t fully tank it. Evade or die—that was the choice.
Crouched beside a blood-streaked forest trail, Darian’s golden eyes gleamed.
“You can run all you want, kid… but you won’t get far,” he muttered.
Above him, his eagle soared, scouting ahead. Every inch of the Vyrecrest Mountains was now Kaelen’s hunting ground. And his trap.
Half a million silver coins dangled over Kaelen’s head—a bounty set by Kael Draven himself. Mercenaries drawn by greed swarmed the mountains, yet Darian wanted it all.
“Why share the reward,” he whispered, “when I can have the glory—and the silver—for myself?”
He followed the blood trail like a predator. Step by step. Minute by minute. Then the forest opened to a clearing. Heavy breaths, thick shrubs…
Darian smirked. “Out of stamina, are we? Cornered yourself, huh?”
Then he froze.
A silver-armored crocodile slept before him, massive as a hill. Scales glittered beneath the canopy. That heavy breathing… not Kaelen’s. The beast of the Great Wild Forest itself.
“No… I can’t fight this!” Darian’s blood ran cold. Kaelen had led him here.
A shadow moved. Kaelen stood atop a rock, twirling a stone with a devilish grin.
“N-No… Don’t—”
“Good luck,” Kaelen whispered.
Whoosh! The stone flew.
ROARRR!
The forest trembled. The crocodile awakened, roaring so loud it rattled Darian’s bones. He scrambled for his bow—but a massive claw struck him down.
In an instant, the Ninth Heaven cultivator, Deputy Commander of the Frostfang Mercenaries… gone.
Kaelen perched on an ancient tree branch, eagle’s lifeless body dangling from his hand. A cold smile tugged at his lips.
“You don’t always need strength to win,” he murmured. “Sometimes, brains are enough.”
Three hours later, when the beast returned to slumber, Kaelen descended. He retrieved the Wind Thunder Bow, half-buried near Darian’s remains.
“A Xuan-grade weapon,” he breathed, tracing the runes. “Even in all of Thornreach… a peerless treasure.”
Not only had he eliminated a dangerous foe. He had claimed a legendary weapon.
Voices echoed from deeper in the forest. “Did you hear that? Fighting! Come on—maybe it’s that thief!”
Kaelen’s eyes darkened. “Frostfang Mercenaries… keep forcing my hand, and don’t blame me for destroying you all.”
A flick of his robe, and he vanished into the treetops.
The pursuit only intensified in the following days. Rogue cultivators, mercenaries… drawn by the bounty. When Kael Draven learned of Darian’s death, his fury erupted like a volcano. One million silver coins. Half the Vyrecrest Mountains swarmed with hunters.
But Kaelen? He was no longer the hunted.
By a moonlit lake, he drove his blade through the chest of a Seventh Heaven cultivator. The Creation Furnace activated. Corpses shimmered—spiritual stones, herbs, silver, even life force devoured and transformed into pure cultivation energy.
His power surged. Ten days later, Kaelen reached the Seventh Heaven of the True Martial Realm. His growth… monstrous. Yet the hunters only multiplied. Greed is endless. The higher he climbed, the more tantalizing the bounty.
The storm was hunting the storm.
“Quick! That little thief is over there!”
Shouts tore through the forest. Kaelen’s white robes fluttered like smoke as he melted into the undergrowth. Golden vital energy pulsed. His body ached—not fear, never fear—but irritation sharpened by exhaustion.
He needed time. Rare herbs, spiritual stones, arcane treasures. A breakthrough loomed. Once he ascended, not even Kael Draven would dare stand.
“When that time comes,” he whispered, “I’ll face him head-on. Let the world see who the real prey is.”
Footsteps approached. Armed cultivators burst into the clearing, led by Kael Draven himself. Cloak billowing, expression cold as steel.
“This is the only path forward,” Draven said. “Let him hide. The mountains’ dangers will either kill him—or drive him straight to us.”
Deep in the ancient forest, Kaelen moved with purpose. Canopy swallowed the light. White robes glimmered like snow. Rusted sword on his back. Wind-Thunder Bow humming in his hand.
No turning back. Behind him: hunters. Ahead: traps. Within: untamed Vyrecrest Mountains—deadly secrets, endless opportunities.
“They won’t follow me in,” he murmured. “Not even Kael Draven has the courage.”
The divine golden pill pulsed in his mind—a beacon of unimaginable power. Heightened senses, sharpened reflexes, awareness beyond human limits. Energy in trees, distant footsteps, the scent of blood… all detectable.
Even awe could not stop him. Swamps gurgled, trees bled poison, carnivorous flowers twitched, beasts the size of carriages slumbered. Yet Kaelen pressed on.
Until—
Boom!
A distant explosion shattered the quiet. Kaelen paused, eyes flicking toward the sound.
A massive gorge yawned below. A three-headed python slithered within, each head longer than a warhorse, violet scales shimmering, tongues flickering like fire whips. Martial artists fought desperately. Steel clashed. Screams echoed. Blood soaked the soil.
“Venomous Berserker Python,” Kaelen breathed. “No wonder the energy spike was intense. Spirit Martial Realm… maybe higher.”
Amid the chaos, a young woman stood calm, silver-armored guards at her side. Raven-black hair, a silver crystal on her brow, glowing faintly.
Seraphina Valemir. Ninth Princess.
Her guards fought to the last breath. One fell beneath the python’s coils. She remained composed, serene.
Whoosh!
A golden arrow streaked through the air, piercing one python’s head. ROAR! The beast shrieked, thrashing violently.
Kaelen leapt into the gorge, scooped Seraphina into his arms, and sprinted with the Wind-Thunder Bow ready.
“You… who are you?” she whispered, astonishment wide in her eyes.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. At that moment, he was everything—guardian, hero, legend carved from moonlight and thunder.
Deep in the Vyrecrest Mountains, amid the chaos of beasts and men, a new tale began.
The legend of Kaelen Viremont… had only just begun.

Latest Chapter
Chapter 067: Envy
The air above the Outer Sect training grounds felt almost electric. Tension clung to every breath, every heartbeat. Disciples from every corner had gathered, eyes wide, chests tight, breaths shallow. They weren’t here for the usual sparring matches or the minor tests. No. They were here for Vaelin.A stunned murmur rippled through the crowd.“This new disciple… he can actually fly without a spirit artifact?” one whispered, disbelief heavy in their voice.“By sheer strength alone… suspended in midair! That’s Titled Martial Realm level!” another replied, jaw tight, eyes practically popping.A few older disciples murmured, recognition dawning like lightning. “I know that black-robed boy. We took the servant disciple entrance test together… Who would’ve guessed he’d rise this fast?”Shock spread like wildfire. Every gaze snapped to Vaelin. Black robes billowed gently as he hovered above the ground. Calm. Commanding. Eerie in his stillness, yet undeniably powerful. A soft breeze lifted his
Chapter 066: Like Ants
Clang!Kaelen’s hand shot forward slowly, deliberately. In an instant, it gleamed silver, as if forged from pure steel. Raw power radiated off it, an aura so hard, so unyielding, it made the air itself tremble. Before Grimveil could even react, Kaelen’s silver hand clamped down on his fingers.Grimveil froze. The arrogance drained from his face, leaving him pale, ashen.“What?!”A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Grimveil—fifth among the Outer Hall’s Top Ten—restrained so effortlessly by a newcomer? Impossible. Shock painted every face.Serenya Vale, still blocking Darius, froze mid-step. Her expression stiffened. She hadn’t expected this black-robed youth to wield such overwhelming strength. They had all written him off. A shadow. A nobody. Their goal? Humiliate Darius.Now, that illusion was shattered.Grimveil’s face twisted in rage. Veins bulged. “Brat! Let go of me!”Kaelen’s eyes flickered with lethal intent. His voice cut the tense air like steel.“Let go? And when yo
Chapter 065: Grimveil
Kaelen’s gaze swept over the two girls before him. Their eyes—wide, sparkling, expectant—challenged him silently, begging for more. He couldn’t help but let a faint, amused smile tug at his lips.“You two… your curiosity really has no limits,” he murmured, shaking his head.He was just about to reveal that he’d broken through to the One-Step Martial King realm when footsteps echoed nearby. Darius appeared, robes fluttering, each step measured, deliberate.The last time Kaelen had saved him, gratitude had dug deep roots in Darius’s heart. Bowing respectfully, he clasped his fists.“Brother Kaelen,” he began cautiously, “during this time Arwyn has been with you… I hope she hasn’t caused too much trouble?”“Cousin, what are you saying? Calling me a little girl? I’m sixteen now! I’ve grown up!” Arwyn rolled her eyes dramatically, slipping to Kaelen’s side and looping her slender, lotus-white arm through his.“Brother Kaelen,” she said, leaning close, eyes sparkling with mischief, “tell hi
Chapter 064: Outer Sect Grand Competition
The Spirit Tower pulsed with energy—dense, almost tangible, as if the very essence of the world had condensed within its walls. Kael felt it seep into his bones, threading through every fiber of his being, urging him forward, whispering promises of power.As expected of the Shadowfang Sect, the premier sect of the Eldravan Empire, extravagance was everywhere. Towering Spirit Towers sprawled across the sect grounds, each a crucible for disciples seeking refinement. But entry wasn’t free—contribution points were required. The sect didn’t hand out power on a silver platter.Kael had spent the past month wisely. Treasures from his recent journey had been exchanged for points—enough to grant him a full month inside a Spirit Tower for secluded cultivation.Inside that sanctum, he abandoned all mortal distractions. The vital energy around him pressed thick and solid, like a boundless ocean trying to drown him—but Kael thrived in it. His Creation Furnace devoured the surrounding essence, gold
Chapter 063: Spirit Tower
Darius had met Kael once before—back when the Shadowfang Sect was recruiting menial disciples. It was nothing more than a brief encounter, a nod, a courteous greeting, all courtesy of his cousin, Arwyn.But now… seeing what had just happened, Darius could barely wrap his head around it. Kael—the same young man—had just saved them from Merrick, a man wielding a magical artifact of insane power. That level of strength? Far beyond Darius. Way beyond.Overwhelmed with gratitude, Darius clasped his hands together and bowed slightly. “Many thanks, Brother Kael, for saving us.” His voice carried sincerity, a tone that demanded it be heard.Then, he let out a long, heavy sigh. “I’ve always prided myself as one of the top ten outer disciples, thinking my skills were something… but compared to real experts? I’m nothing. Worthless. Like… trash.”Kael inclined his head, remaining calm and collected. “Only true power decides everything,” he said, voice quiet but carrying a weight you couldn’t igno
Chapter 062: Magical Artifact
“Boom!”Merrick Drovane slammed every ounce of his true vital energy into the small silver hammer in his hand. Power surged through his veins, thrumming like a wild drum. The artifact trembled, reacting to the force coursing through it.“Buzz!”The energy exploded outward, and the hammer—no, the tiny tool in his palm—began to grow. Faster than anyone could follow, it swelled monstrously. Within seconds, it towered dozens of meters above the ground, glinting like a silver mountain dropped straight from the heavens.“Boom!”It crashed downward. Grimveil froze. Arwyn shivered violently. Only now did she truly grasp the devastation aimed at her cousin.She felt small. Insignificant. Like an ant clinging to the base of an unforgiving mountain. Every heartbeat screamed helplessness. Despair clawed at her chest.“Clang!”Then, impossibly, Grimveil stretched out a single hand. Palm flat. He pressed against the colossal hammer—and held it. Just like that. As if it were no more than a feather.
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