The world beyond Mộc Loan village was far vaster and crueler than Mộc Phàm had imagined. In his early days of wandering, he faced countless dangers. Without money, without experience, he was forced to rely on instinct and his "blood qi" strength to survive.
Mộc Phàm traveled relentlessly south, heading towards more populated areas with denser cultivator activity. He knew that to grow stronger, he had to seek opportunities. But opportunities often came hand-in-hand with peril.
Hunting demonic beasts and gathering resources became his primary means of survival. With his "Qi Sea" growing steadily more solid, Mộc Phàm could contend with low-level demonic beasts like Fang Wolves, Black Panthers, or Crimson Flame Serpents. He used no magic, relying entirely on his raw physical strength, speed, and accumulated combat experience. He used iron fists, elbows, knees, even teeth and fingernails, to subdue his opponents. These battles not only provided meat and hides to sell for money but also served as excellent opportunities for Mộc Phàm to hone his close-quarters combat skills and better sense the flow of "blood qi" within his body. Each brush with death tempered his "Qi Sea" a little more.
However, danger didn't only come from demonic beasts. Mộc Phàm quickly recognized the cruelty of the human world. He nearly died several times at the hands of roadside bandits who preyed on wanderers like him. They might lack spiritual power, but they were numerous and cunning. Mộc Phàm had to learn how to hide, how to use the terrain to his advantage in battle, and sometimes, how to employ ruthlessness to protect himself.
During one wander near a spirit herb forest, Mộc Phàm accidentally witnessed a struggle between two groups of Rogue Cultivators. They were fighting over a rare Blood Spirit Ganoderma. The roar of spells, the blinding light of magic artifacts, and gruesome deaths all for a single spirit herb. Mộc Phàm, hidden in the bushes, felt a cold sweat break out. He understood that the life of a mortal like him, even with strength, was as fragile as a candle flame in the wind in this world.
He decided not to intervene, but when the battle ended and the victors departed, Mộc Phàm cautiously approached, scavenging what remained. He didn't find the Blood Spirit Ganoderma, but he unexpectedly discovered some shattered pieces of magic artifacts, a few small spirit stones drained of spiritual energy, and most importantly, a discarded low-level cultivation technique manual.
This manual was incredibly basic, just a few lines of text instructing how to absorb spiritual energy into the Dantian. To a cultivator, it was worthless, but to Mộc Phàm, it opened a door. He couldn't absorb spiritual energy, but he could deduce its operational principles, and from there, compare it to his own "blood qi" path. He realized that despite differing in energy type, both "forging" and "guiding" had similarities.
Mộc Phàm's "blood qi" seemed to be activated more powerfully when he faced dangerous situations and intense emotions. The anger from nearly being robbed, the fear from witnessing bloodshed, or even the joy from successfully hunting a large prey—all affected his "Qi Sea," making it circulate faster, becoming more concentrated. He felt like he was "tempering his heart" within this cruel mortal realm.
After several months of wandering, Mộc Phàm had passed through a few small towns, witnessing the extravagance of cultivator families, the poverty of mortals, and the clear discrimination. Cultivators could fly on swords through the sky, while mortals could only trudge silently on the ground. The words of the black-robed cultivator from Mộc Loan village constantly echoed in his mind: "Without spirit roots, you will forever be a weak mortal."
But Mộc Phàm didn't believe it. He had survived. He had grown stronger. And more importantly, he had begun to form a clear goal: not just revenge, but to uncover the truth about the stone, about the "blood qi" path, and to prove that the Heavenly Dao wasn't just for immortals.
Standing on a desolate hill, looking out at the distant, cloud-shrouded peaks, where legends said great sects resided, Mộc Phàm took a deep breath. He was ready for greater challenges.