The void did not merely transport Railin—it swallowed him whole, grinding him against the raw edges of reality.
Inside the spatial fissure, sound, light, and mass fused into a blinding, purple-black vortex that defied physical laws. Violent currents of spatial shear lashed against his skin, tearing at his coarse, frayed servant's robes like invisible razor blades. Had Railin been an ordinary labor disciple with broken meridians, the chaotic gravitational forces would have shredded his flesh into blood dust and bone splinters within seconds.
"Devour!" Railin bellowed inwardly, his soul voice echoing in his consciousness.
He unleashed the full, unreserved energy of his Ashen Devouring Qi. The dark ember resting in his dantian flared violently, pouring out a dense, churning shroud of pitch-black energy that clung to his skin like a second layer of unbreakable armor. As the chaotic spatial currents crashed violently against his body, the dark Qi devoured the kinetic impact, neutralizing the razor-sharp pressure and converting the raw friction into a steady, albeit burning, heat that circulated through his limbs.
THUD!
The disorienting sensation of weightlessness snapped without warning. Railin crashed hard onto a bed of cold, sharp gravel, rolling several paces across the ground to disperse the impact before bringing himself to a swift, perfectly balanced crouch.
He immediately held his breath, pulling his Qi tight against his core and dropping into a soundless, low stance. His dark eyes flickered open, scanning the surrounding terrain with absolute, predatory vigilance.
The sky above was not the pale, mist-covered blue of the outside world; it was a bruised, motionless twilight, painted in hues of deep violet and bruised crimson. There was no sun, no moon, and no wind. Floating high in the stagnant atmosphere were giant, translucent shards of crystal that reflected the eerie ambient light like suspended, broken mirrors. The air was deathly still, devoid of birds, insects, or any natural atmospheric sound.
Railin stood up slowly, brushing the sharp, violet dust from his scraped palms.
He was standing on the vast ruins of a massive stone plaza that jutted out dramatically from the side of an impossible, floating mountain. The stone beneath his boots was weathered and cracked, covered in strange, silver-veined lichen that emitted a soft, pulse-like glow whenever his boots pressed against it. Towering around the outer perimeter of the plaza were dozens of broken monolithic pillars, their surfaces carved with ancient, long-faded runes that Railin instantly recognized from the deepest memories of his past life—architectural runes belonging to a long-extinct sect from the primitive era.
A pocket realm tied to a fallen ancient sect, Railin realized, taking a quiet, measured breath.
The moment the air filled his lungs, his eyes narrowed in genuine astonishment.
The spirit qi in this sealed dimension was astonishingly dense—nearly five times richer than the air outside in the Dark Mist Forest. But unlike the wild, toxic spirit qi of the forest or the artificially refined, gentle energy of the academy's inner mountain peaks, this energy was heavy, primordial, and stagnant. It felt as though it had been locked away in an airtight iron vault for ten thousand years, completely untouched by human cultivation or the passage of seasons.
BZZZZ...
The moment his physical body adapted to the environment, the Ashen Devouring Qi within his chest began to hum automatically. Like a starved beast coming across a grand feast, his dark core began drinking in the ambient primordial energy through his skin pores without needing his conscious command. The broken fragments of his meridians throbbed with a cool, refreshing sensation, greedily absorbing the ancient essence to reinforce their structural integrity.
Railin turned his head to look behind him. High above the ruined plaza, floating roughly twenty feet in the air, was the purple tear he had just jumped through. It vibrated unstable, its jagged edges flickering with chaotic sparks and shrinking by fractions of an inch every few minutes.
The fissure is rapidly collapsing, Railin noted coldly, calculating the decay rate in his mind. The array anchor stone outside on the mountain ridge was likely destroyed or displaced when I jumped through. I have at most four to five hours before this pocket realm completely seals itself off or collapses into the spatial void. If I am not back through that tear before it snaps shut, I will be trapped in the dark void for eternity.
He turned his back on the exit without a single thread of hesitation and looked toward the center of the ruined realm.
Extending from the edge of the plaza was a wide, crumbling stone causeway that stretched across a vast sea of rolling purple mist, leading directly toward a grand subterranean palace carved into the heart of the floating mountain. The air surrounding the palace shimmered with an intense, concentrated spiritual radiance. Even from this distance, Railin's heightened soul perception could detect the distinct, overwhelming aroma of ancient, unharvested spirit herbs and the deep, thrumming pulse of a localized spirit vein embedded within the mountain rock.
Four hours, Railin thought, a cold, ruthless glint flashing in his pitch-black eyes. Four hours to pillage everything this ancient realm has to offer.
He did not sprint recklessly down the causeway. Instead, he dropped into a soundless, low posture and glided forward like a dark phantom, keeping his footfalls completely weightless against the stone flags.
As he traversed the crumbling causeway, his heightened senses remained on absolute high alert. Pocket realms left behind by ancient sects were rarely unguarded. Even if the original inhabitants had long vanished into history, automated puppetry, spatial traps, or mutated guardian beasts almost certainly lurked within the shadows.
Sure enough, halfway across the causeway, his soul sense picked up a cold, mechanical vibration beneath the stone flags.
TRICK... CLICK...
Railin froze instantly, his body locking into position like a coiled spring.
Ten paces ahead of him, the silver lichen growing along the stone pillars began to burn with a fierce, crimson light. The ancient stone flags shifted, sliding open with a heavy, grinding crunch that echoed across the quiet abyss. From the dark recesses beneath the causeway, three tall figures rose slowly into the dim twilight.
They were not living creatures, nor were they standard demonic beasts.
They were human-sized constructs forged entirely from black iron and dull, heavy brass. Their bodies were slender, possessing four multi-jointed arms that ended in rusted, curved scimitars. Where their faces should have been, there was only a single, glowing red gem embedded deep into smooth, polished metal plates.
Bronze-Guard Constructs.
They were ancient, automated sentinels created by the extinct sect to purge intruders who did not carry native identification tokens. Although thousands of years of stagnation had rusted their joints and drained their primary power sources, the energy pulsing from the crimson gems in their foreheads indicated they still possessed power equivalent to Fourth or Fifth Level Spirit Refining cultivators.
The three constructs turned their heads in absolute unison, their glowing red gems locking directly onto Railin's stooped, servant-clad figure.
BZZZ-CRACKLE!
A harsh, metallic screech erupted from their brass chests as all three sentinels drew their scimitars simultaneously. They moved with terrifying, mechanical synchronization, their rusted joints popping loud as they lunged forward, sweeping across the stone causeway in a lethal, triangular execution formation.
Railin's mind remained cold as ice. He didn't have the luxury of time to drag out a drawn-out battle, nor could he afford to shatter his bare fists against solid black iron.
They are driven by core gems, Railin analyzed swiftly, his soul sense penetrating the rusted brass plating of the lead construct. Their physical bodies are inorganic metal, but the energy driving their limbs is compressed spirit qi stored inside those forehead gems!
To any standard cultivator, an inorganic metal construct was a nightmare to fight because it felt no pain, bled no blood, and could not be poisoned or paralyzed.
To Railin, an inorganic metal construct powered by compressed spirit qi was simply a walking battery waiting to be drained dry.
The lead Bronze-Guard reached Railin first. Its four multi-jointed arms blurred into a deadly storm of cold steel, two scimitars slashing downward toward his shoulders while the other two swept horizontally to sever his neck and ribs. The sheer wind pressure generated by the attack cut small gashes into the stone floor beneath Railin's feet.
Railin didn't retreat, nor did he draw a weapon.
The exact instant before the curved blades could touch his skin, Railin ducked his head, shifting his body forward into the narrow blind spot between the construct's swinging lower arms.
CLANG!
The four scimitars collided violently with empty air and stone, sending a shower of bright sparks flying across the dark causeway.
Before the construct could recalibrate its mechanical attack angle, Railin drove his right palm upward with breathtaking speed. His hand, wrapped in a shimmering aura of Ashen Devouring Qi, slammed directly into the center of the construct's forehead, pressing his open palm flat against the glowing crimson gem!
"Devour!" Railin commanded coldly.
BZZZZZZZZT!
A thick, pitch-black fog erupted from Railin's hand, instantly blanketing the construct's head and neck. The dark Qi acted like a corrosive, ravenous parasite, forcing its way through the microscopic cracks in the gem's mounting and plunging directly into the core's energy reservoir.
The lead construct froze mid-motion. Its four raised arms trembled violently as the bright crimson light within its forehead gem turned dark, spiraling into a pale, sickly grey. The compressed spirit qi that had sustained the machine for ten thousand years was violently extracted, stripped of its elemental structure, and dragged down Railin's arm directly into his dantian.
CRACK!
The crimson gem shattered into useless, colorless glass powder. The massive black iron construct lost all its driving power, collapsing into a lifeless, heavy heap of rusted metal at Railin's feet.
The entire drain process had taken less than two seconds.
A rich, heavy surge of pure, refined energy flooded into Railin's chest. The sudden influx was so potent that the dark ember in his dantian expanded again, casting a dark, majestic glow over his entire inner world. The broken meridians along his spine tingled as another microscopic fracture was permanently fused shut by the devoured power.
The remaining two Bronze-Guards did not hesitate or register fear. As their companion fell, they adjusted their charge without skipping a beat, their scimitars whistling through the stagnant air as they lunged at Railin from both sides in a synchronized flank maneuver.
Railin didn't even turn his head.
He stepped over the fallen construct's chest, his left and right hands shooting out simultaneously like black striking vipers. His open palms slammed into the forehead gems of both lunging sentinels with absolute, flawless precision.
BANG! BANG!
"Devour!"
Two thick streams of dark Qi surged from his palms. The crimson gems on both constructs flared wildly, fighting against the dark energy for a single, desperate second before losing the struggle completely. The dark Qi tore their internal energy matrices apart, devouring their core reserves down to the very last drop.
CRACK! CRACK!
The sound of shattering glass echoed through the silent causeway.
The two giant metal sentinels went completely limp, their heavy weapons clattering harmlessly against the stone flags as their lifeless bodies crashed to the ground, reduced to empty, hollow shells.
Railin lowered his hands, drawing a deep, long breath.
The energy absorbed from three ancient Fourth Level constructs was vast—far purer and more concentrated than the wild vitality he had taken from the Shadow-Iron Hound in the forest. The devoured power rushed through his limbs, expanding his muscle density and sharpening his physical reaction speed to an extraordinary level. His physical frame now possessed the raw, terrifying power capable of crushing solid iron with bare hands.
He looked down at the three heaps of lifeless brass and iron, his expression dark and impassive.
"Inorganic or living," Railin whispered softly into the quiet air of the pocket realm, "all energy belongs to the void."
He didn't waste a single second inspecting the broken metal. Turning his gaze back toward the end of the causeway, he stared at the massive, grand archway leading into the heart of the subterranean palace.
The ancient air inside the archway pulsed with the sweet, intoxicating scent of long-forgotten spiritual treasures. Railin adjusted his ragged tunic, leaped over the broken metal corpses, and sped toward the palace interior like a dark phantom hunting its prey.
Passing through the grand archway, Railin entered a massive subterranean hall supported by towering pillars of black obsidian. The ceiling was lost in shadows, but suspended in mid-air were dozens of pale, glowing spheres of spirit light that cast an ethereal illumination over the expansive chamber.
In the center of the hall stood a raised marble dais. Arranged neatly upon the dais were three ancient stone chests, sealed with glowing blue talisman papers that pulsed with lingering defensive wards. Behind the dais grew a solitary, ancient tree—its trunk twisted like a sleeping dragon, its branches bearing three translucent, pale-blue fruits that emitted a fragrance so potent it made Railin's blood boil with vitality.
Spirit-Nourishing Dragon Fruits.
Railin's dark eyes locked onto the glowing fruits, a rare, cold smile touching his lips. These fruits were legendary items, capable of repairing damaged meridians and washing the spiritual foundation of a cultivator.
With these three fruits and the contents of those sealed chests, Railin thought, stepping carefully onto the obsidian floor of the hall, I will not only mend my broken meridians completely, but I will also lay the foundation to break into the true Spirit Refining Realm.
He slowed his pace, extending his soul sense to cover every inch of the hall. He knew that the true treasures of an ancient sect were never left without a final, lethal safeguard.
As his boot touched the first step of the raised marble dais, a low, rumbling hum reverberated through the obsidian floor. The blue talisman papers sealing the stone chests began to glow intensely, and a heavy, suffocating pressure descended upon the chamber—the slumbering defensive spirit of the ancient palace was awakening to face the intruder.
Railin did not retreat. He tightened his fists, dark embers dancing deep within his pitch-black eyes as he prepared to claim his prize before the spatial fissure above closed forever.
See you in next chapter.....