High above the rugged landscape of the Black-Corner Region, a white-silver figure streaked across the sky like a comet, his cloak fluttering in the wind. Xiao Feng, now nine years old, soared effortlessly through the air, occasionally glancing at a map floating in his hand—a special item from the system that marked known towns and power zones.
It had been a full month since he stepped into the Black-Corner Region.
In that time, he had visited twelve small towns, each one dirtier, rowdier, and more chaotic than the last. Most of them had no real structure or order, with gangs or minor factions claiming control. And despite the danger, none of the towns boasted a true powerhouse—the strongest person he'd encountered in any of them was a mere Dou Ling.
That didn't mean his journey had been uneventful.
His distinct appearance—a luxurious white-silver robe, a pure white cloak, and the half-silver mask etched with golden patterns—had made him a walking target. Dozens of greedy eyes had fallen on him. To the average thug or mercenary, he looked like a young master lost in a lawless land. Easy pickings.
And that was fine. He welcomed it.
This was the purpose of his journey.
Real combat.
While magical beasts offered a direct challenge with their physical strength and elemental abilities, humans were different. They were crafty. Ruthless. Deceptive. They used feints, ambushes, poisons, formations—anything to win.
In this past month alone, he had been:
Ambushed by bandits hiding in sand dunes who coated their blades with paralyzing venom.
Surrounded in a bar by a group who lured him with fake kindness before striking with hidden weapons.
Stalked through a forest at night by bounty hunters who used silent movement techniques and heat-sensing talismans.
None of it worked.
He didn't just defeat them. He studied them. Adapted. He allowed some of their tricks to play out, testing his reactions, timing, awareness.
He learned from every fight.
His cultivation also progressed smoothly. Thanks to his Wind Spirit Body and his steady, disciplined refinement of Dou Qi, he had broken through to 2-Star Dou Ling during a quiet night on a plateau while meditating under a stormy sky.
Not once did he need to draw his strongest cards.
Just footwork, technique, timing—and sometimes, when the numbers were overwhelming, the first move of Tempest Swords: Gale Pierce, used with flawless precision.
Occasionally, he would land in a new town, walk around calmly, observe the area, and leave without conflict. Other times, the local tyrants took offense to his existence.
In one village, a self-proclaimed "Young Master" of a second-tier gang challenged him in the main square. With one palm, Xiao Feng sent him flying into a fruit cart, unconscious before he even hit the ground.
The onlookers stared in silence as he walked away.
Every encounter carved more experience into his foundation, more instinct into his reactions. He understood now what kind of battle styles were common at each cultivation level, how Dou Shi relied on brute strength, how Da Dou Shi favored flashy techniques, and how Dou Ling prioritized speed, timing, and lethal strikes.
It was knowledge that couldn't be gained from books or quiet meditation.
As he flew onward, he passed over a dark canyon and narrowed his eyes.
The next marked area on his map was a slightly larger town—one rumored to be controlled by a first-tier faction. That meant, potentially, a Dou Huang presence.
He was still far from that level, but Xiao Feng welcomed the pressure.
And with that, he adjusted his direction and descended from the clouds.