By Dark-kingxu
Light filtered faintly through the cracks in the cave ceiling, casting rippling shadows across the stone walls. Xu Ming's eyes snapped open, pupils gleaming with residual light from the imprint that had entered his soul. His chest rose and fell slowly, but power surged beneath his skin—calm, focused, and waiting to be tested.
> "So it wasn't a dream…"
He flexed his fingers, and the threads in the air responded instinctively, curling around his fingertips like obedient servants. The memory of the sword—a form etched into his mind like it had always belonged—resonated with each breath.
He stood, eyes narrowing.
> "Let's see what this technique can do."
Without wasting another moment, Xu Ming stepped out of the cave and vanished into the forest.
---
It didn't take long.
A Demonic Horned Bear lumbered through the underbrush, its thick hide gleaming like iron. Qi Spark – Stage Three. Not a weak opponent by any means, but exactly the kind of test he needed.
Xu Ming exhaled and let the Sight guide him. Threads glimmered around the beast—momentum, breath, hesitation.
He stepped forward, calm as water.
> "Sight-Breaking Sword Style—Form One: Split the Horizon."
In one smooth, practiced motion, his arm swept horizontally.
For a heartbeat, nothing.
Then—a line of silver light tore across the bear's chest. The beast froze mid-growl, its eyes wide. Blood burst from the wound, and with a strangled roar, it collapsed, twitching once before falling still.
Xu Ming stared at his blade, chest rising and falling.
> "It worked."
The power in that strike was immense. Controlled. Lethal.
But before he could marvel further, a voice rang out—mocking and sharp.
> "Impressive for a brat who reeks of the wild."
Xu Ming turned.
From the shadows, a youth in crimson robes stepped forward, a pair of hooked daggers at his sides. His Qi flared—Qi Spark, Stage Six.
Two stages above.
Xu Ming's gaze sharpened. This wasn't some rogue beast. This was a cultivator from one of the roaming sect scouting parties.
> "Hand over whatever you found in the ruins," the man sneered, "and maybe I'll let you crawl away."
Xu Ming's eyes narrowed. He said nothing.
The threads were already moving.
The crimson-robed cultivator shot forward, fast and ruthless. His daggers flashed in tandem, seeking Xu Ming's heart and throat. Xu Ming deflected one with the flat of his blade but the second grazed his side, blood spraying across the ferns.
The man laughed. "Too slow."
But Xu Ming didn't back down.
He stepped inside the next attack, the threads screaming a warning. He twisted his body unnaturally, blade snapping toward the man's ribs—but again, the enemy parried and countered, slashing a shallow cut across Xu Ming's arm.
It was brutal. Every exchange brought more pain. Blood painted the forest floor.
But Xu Ming's eyes burned with clarity.
Each thread became sharper, each movement more instinctive. He wasn't fighting with muscle alone now—but with Sight honed through trial and blood.
Still, the difference in cultivation was undeniable. Xu Ming's legs buckled. A dagger dug deep into his shoulder, and he was hurled into a tree with a sickening crack.
> "You're done!" the man spat, surging forward to finish it.
Xu Ming's vision blurred.
But deep within his core, something screamed.
> Not yet.
His breath stopped.
Qi roared inside him.
The pain vanished. His body convulsed as if struck by lightning. Threads of light erupted from his core, and thick black dregs oozed from his pores.
The wall cracked—
And shattered.
> "Qi Spark – Stage Five."
His aura exploded outward like a tide. The crimson-robed cultivator froze, eyes widening.
> "Impossible—!"
But Xu Ming had already moved.
Sight-Breaking Sword Style—Form One.
He didn't shout it this time.
He simply moved.
One horizontal arc—perfect, refined, full of killing intent and raw Qi.
The man's head flew from his shoulders before he could blink.
His body crumpled silently to the forest floor.
Xu Ming stood above it, chest heaving.
His blade dripped blood.
> "You should've walked away."
---
The forest was silent once more. But his heart was not.
Xu Ming turned, heading toward a familiar path—back to the grove where a certain four-armed Stage Four beast had once forced him to flee.
> "This time," he muttered, eyes dark with resolve, "I'm the one hunting."
---
The beast stood in the center of the grove—massive, snarling, its four arms pounding against its chest as soon as Xu Ming entered. Its eyes flared with the memory of the boy who had once run.
Xu Ming met its gaze without fear.
> "We've got unfinished business."
No hesitation.
They clashed.
The fight was brutal. The four-armed beast struck like a storm, fists raining down like hammers, but Xu Ming was different now. He ducked beneath one blow, slashed a tendon, flipped over the next arm, and drove his blade into the beast's back.
Qi exploded between them.
The beast howled in agony, but Xu Ming pressed on, his Sight blazing. Every strike was surgical, every dodge informed by the threads dancing in his vision.
Minutes passed—then silence.
The beast collapsed, limbs twitching, blood pooling at its feet.
Xu Ming, panting and soaked in sweat, stood victorious.
He limped toward the spiritual fruits—the Golden heart fruits now his for the taking.
> "One step closer…"
He gathered them, slipping them into his ring.
The forest seemed to bow around him.
> And deep within, the path forward opened.
[To be continued in Chapter 15…]