Following the faint traces of spiritual energy, Heng wove through the forest. Before long, he arrived beneath a century-old pine.
He stopped under the tree, focusing his senses, and caught a subtle, elusive fragrance.
Tracking the scent, he soon discovered half a cicada shell nestled among the dense branches.
A cicada shell was the empty husk left behind after molting. Even an ordinary one could be used as medicine.
But this one was soft to the touch, laced with faint spiritual energy—clearly extraordinary.
"Must be from a spirit cicada."
Heng mused.
Spirit cicadas were far rarer than common ones—roughly halfway to becoming true spirit beasts.
If nothing went wrong, this shell alone could fetch over a hundred pennies.
Two hundred pennies in such a short time.
This felt good.
A thousand pennies made one silver tael—he was one step closer to a hundred taels!
Meanwhile, the other mountain dwellers were still fumbling through the outer woods and bushes, risking their lives and finding nothing.
A typical trip lasted ten to fifteen days, and earning a few hundred pennies was considered incredible luck.
Of course, those days weren't spent entirely in the mist.
No one could endure that.
The Mountain Patrol Division guards set up camp outside the forest and lit guiding lanterns. During the day, the mountain folk entered to forage; at night, they were required to return for rest and resupply.
The forest at night was many times—sometimes dozens of times—more dangerous than by day. No ordinary person could linger there.
Heng carefully tucked away the spirit-infused cicada shell and continued wandering deeper.
This time, his luck wasn't as good.
He walked the wild terrain for half an hour without sensing any new spiritual energy.
"Should I push farther in?"
Heng weighed the decision.
The outer edges were where ordinary mountain dwellers usually searched—fewer treasures, but lower risk.
Going deeper meant both greater danger and greater opportunity.
After a brief hesitation, he decided to press on.
If he wanted to escape the Mountain Patrol Division's control, he needed a safe hideout deep in the mountains.
That kind of refuge would only exist farther in.
Not long after entering the deeper forest, he stopped before a wild bamboo grove. Though he didn't sense any spiritual objects, excitement stirred within him.
The golden cauldron deep in his consciousness was trembling faintly, radiating a subtle hunger.
The last time it had reacted like this, it granted him Mist Absorption.
Now it was stirring again.
What new benefit might come this time?
But what exactly was it craving?
Heng focused, scanning his surroundings.
Cool mountain breeze, swaying bamboo shadows.
Thanks to Mist Absorption, he could detect spirited objects.
Yet there was no spiritual energy here... wait.
If this place differed from others, it was the mist—far denser than at similar depths.
Could the golden cauldron absorb the toxic mist itself?
He followed the thickest concentrations, and sure enough, the deeper he went, the stronger the cauldron's vibrations became.
Soon, in the heart of the mist, he stumbled upon a strange sight.
At the base of several tall green bamboos grew a single purple bamboo shoot, standing proud.
Black vapors swirled around it, erupting outward like a fountain of toxic mist.
"This is... a Hellseed!"
Heng recalled stories from old mountain folk: the forest mists spewed from cracks in the underworld, not of this world.
Where the mist gushed strongest, plants sometimes took root. Soaked year after year in the dense poison, they mutated into unimaginably deadly things.
The elders warned that if you ever encountered one while foraging, you ran for your life—or you wouldn't have one left.
But with Mist Absorption protecting him, Heng held his breath and cautiously approached the purple shoot.
Before he even reached it, he willed the golden cauldron to act.
A beam of golden light burst from his brow and shot toward the plant.
Buzz!
The light was blinding, its power overwhelming. The instant it struck the purple shoot, the plant melted away, dissolving into strands of black vapor that surged toward Heng.
He inhaled deeply on instinct, and a warm current flooded his body.
Part of the energy was absorbed by the cauldron itself, which trembled and fed back strange spiritual power to him.
In the end, the heat gathered behind his eyes.
Suddenly, the world transformed.
The forest, once shrouded in thick fog, became crystal clear. Even a beetle fluttering its wings a hundred yards away was sharp in his vision—he could make out the fine hairs on its shell.
Looking back toward the outer edges, he spotted faint silhouettes of mountain dwellers anxiously searching the trees, finding nothing.
He turned his attention inward to the golden cauldron.
New elegant script had appeared on its surface.
[Destiny Ability: Night Vision (Beginner): Eyes imbued with divine power; dense mist and fog no longer obscure sight. Vision at night as clear as day; can observe details up to a hundred yards away.]
A brand-new ability.
And it boosted his night vision tremendously.
This was huge—for finding treasure, spotting danger, even tracking enemies.
Since he planned to stay long-term in the mist zones, the value of this ability was immeasurable.
Surviving comfortably and making serious money now felt within reach.
But the revelation went far beyond that.
"The golden cauldron can absorb Hellseeds..."
In the Hundred Thousand Mountains, things like this purple-black bamboo shoot weren't rare.
If he kept searching, he'd find a second, a third, a fourth!
That meant more—and stronger—abilities were almost guaranteed.
Just Mist Absorption and Night Vision had already changed everything. The future looked bright.
With more abilities, how powerful could he become?
The thought alone sent a thrill through him.
As the day grew late, Heng considered his options and decided to head back to camp—for now.
He still planned to escape, but not yet.
He needed a proper hideout first.
The mountains were full of mist, spirit beasts, and wild monsters. They were scarce during the day—Heng hadn't encountered any—but that didn't mean the nights were safe.
Sleeping in the open forest without shelter was suicide.
He dug a deep hole, buried the reishi and the spirit cicada shell, and only then started toward the camp.