The grand outer gates of the Sun-Moon Academy stood imposing against the pitch-black midnight canvas, carved from colossal monoliths of white mountain marble and reinforced with protective iron warding runes that hummed with a subtle, defensive blue light.
Two sleepy night-watch guards, wrapped in heavy wool cloaks and leaning against their halberds at the secondary barrier, barely spared Railin a second glance as he approached the perimeter. Clad in the crisp, high-grade navy-blue robes of an outer disciple and casually wearing the stolen copper merit token at his sash, Railin walked past the shimmering defensive arrays without triggering a single alarm or hesitation from the ancient wards. His footfalls were steady, his posture relaxed, embodying the exact aura of an outer student returning from a late-night forest patrol.
Once inside the outer ring of the sect, instead of heading toward the warm, well-furnished dormitories where the outer disciples slept, Railin redirected his steps down a steep, narrow stone trail that cut deeply into the southern gorge.
As he descended, the refreshing mountain air grew progressively thick, suffocating, and uncomfortably warm. The crisp scent of pine trees and damp earth was replaced by the pungent stench of burning sulfur, acrid coal dust, and molten iron. Deep within the natural basalt caverns of the gorge lay the Furnace Quarters—the absolute lowest, most miserable rung of the Sun-Moon Academy, where crippled labor servants, failed applicants, and punishment-bound outcasts spent their short, agonizing lives hauling heavy black ore and tending to the massive blast fires that forged the weapons for the inner sect.
Railin stepped out of the narrow stone corridor and into the cavernous, fire-lit gloom of the primary melting hall.
The heat inside was intense enough to make an ordinary human's skin blister within hours. Massive iron cauldrons, each holding tons of bubbling, orange liquid metal, hung suspended from thick iron chains above roaring pits of elemental fire. Violent crimson and gold reflections danced across the sharp, jagged basalt walls of the chamber. Dozens of emaciated, soot-covered servants moved through the stifling haze like walking skeletons, their backs bent dangerously low under the crushing weight of wooden baskets filled with raw, unrefined black iron ore.
Near the high central stone dais, overseeing the miserable labor with a heavy, six-foot long, iron-barbed whip in his right hand, was Supervisor Ba.
Supervisor Ba was a thick, bloated beast of a man with greasy, sweat-slicked skin and small, malice-filled eyes that constantly darted around the cavern looking for a target to torment. He was a cultivator who had hit a permanent wall at the Second Level of Spirit Refining decades ago—far too weak and untalented to ever earn respect or advancement within the outer disciple halls, but possessing just enough physical strength to reign as an absolute, tyrannical lord over the crippled, power-starved servants.
"Faster, you lazy, useless dogs!" Supervisor Ba bellowed, his loud, gravelly voice carrying easily over the deafening roar of the blast furnaces. "If the daily coal and iron ore quota for the weaponsmithing hall isn't fully met before the sun hits the horizon, not a single one of you gets your daily crust of moldy bread! I will double the shifts for the entire week!"
CRACK!
To emphasize his words, Ba brought his barbed leather whip down with vicious, unbridled force across the bare back of an elderly servant who had stumbled under the weight of an overflowing iron basket. The old man let out a horrifying, ragged shriek of pure agony as the sharp metal barbs tore through his flesh, spraying blood onto the white-hot stone floor where it instantly sizzled and evaporated into red steam.
"Get up, old trash!" Ba spat, lifting his heavy boot and kicking the bleeding old man directly in the ribs, sending him sprawling into the dirt. "You think because that crippled bastard Railin ran away into the northern woods to die, I won't kill another one of you useless rats tonight to make a point?!"
"You won't have to look for him," a calm, metallic voice echoed through the fire-lit cavern.
The sharp, composed tone was not loud, yet it cut through the deafening roar of the bubbling liquid metal and the hum of the furnaces with strange, absolute clarity.
Supervisor Ba froze mid-motion, his arm raised to deliver another strike with his whip. The surrounding dozens of servants stopped their shoveling and hauling, turning their hollow, sunken, soot-stained eyes toward the cavern entrance in collective shock.
Railin walked slowly out of the dark stone archway, his hands tucked casually into the wide sleeves of his navy-blue outer robes.
Supervisor Ba blinked rapidly, his small, fat-encased eyes narrowing into tight slits as he scrutinized the youth's face. Despite the pristine, high-grade clothes and the absolute stillness of his presence, Ba immediately recognized the sharp features of the crippled labor servant who had vanished during the afternoon shift.
A cruel, incredulous sneer slowly spread across Ba's greasy face, pulling his cheeks back to reveal yellowed teeth.
"Railin?" Supervisor Ba barked, a harsh, mocking laugh breaking from his throat. "You little piece of trash! You actually dared to crawl back here?!"
Ba lowered his whip, taking three heavy, thunderous steps down from the stone dais. His massive, bloated chest heaved with growing anger as he glared at Railin. "Stealing an outer disciple's sacred robes? Deserting your assigned shift in the furnace pits? You've committed three separate death offenses in a single evening! Do you have any idea what kind of living hell I am going to put you through before I let you bleed out?!"
"I don't," Railin replied smoothly, coming to a halt five paces away from the tyrant. His expression remained completely flat, his pitch-black eyes dark and unreadable. "Why don't you enlighten me?"
"You arrogant little rat!" Supervisor Ba roared, his temper completely exploding at Railin's utter lack of fear. "I'll snap every bone in your hands first and feed them to the furnace fire!"
BOOM!
Supervisor Ba planted his heavy boots, channeling every drop of his Second Level Spirit Refining qi into his right arm. Pale-blue energy flickered weakly around his massive, fat-covered fist, reinforced by heavy iron rings wrapped around his knuckles. He lunged forward with explosive, lethal intent, sweeping his iron-ringed fist straight toward Railin's jaw in a blow meant to crush skull bone instantly.
To the watching, terrified servants, Supervisor Ba's attack was a lethal, unstoppable blur of brute force.
To Railin, however, the incoming strike was agonizingly slow—full of glaring openings, poor balance, and pathetic energy density. In his past life, sovereigns who commanded world-destroying celestial arrays wouldn't have dared to raise a weapon against him with such sloppy form.
Railin didn't retreat. He didn't even shift his footing by a single inch.
He simply raised his right arm, extending his bare palm forward with casual, effortless grace, moving his hand directly into the path of the incoming blow.
BANG!
Supervisor Ba's heavy, qi-infused fist slammed directly into the exact center of Railin's open, bare palm. A violent wave of compressed air exploded outward from the point of contact, blowing soot and red cinders away from their feet in a wide circle.
Yet, Railin's arm did not bend a fraction of an inch. He stood completely immobile, his body anchored to the stone floor like an ancient, unshakeable mountain peak standing against a minor breeze.
Supervisor Ba's arrogant grin instantly died in his throat. Extreme, suffocating shock washed over his greasy face as he felt the impact. It felt as though his knuckles had not collided with soft human flesh and bone, but had slammed at full speed into a wall of solid, impenetrable dark iron. The recoil of his own force shattered two of his iron finger rings, sending small metal fragments flying.
"W-What?!" Ba gasped, his small eyes widening in sheer horror as he frantically tried to yank his fist back.
He couldn't move an inch. Railin's fingers had closed around Ba's massive, fat hand like an inescapable iron vise, locking his joint in place with terrifying, effortless grip strength.
"Is this the absolute limit of your power, Supervisor?" Railin asked softly, his voice dropping into a cold whisper that made the blood run cold in Ba's veins. His pitch-black eyes locked directly onto Ba's trembling, panicked pupils. "You have spent years striking the weak and defenseless with impunity. Let us see how your own body endures the force of the void."
"Devour."
BZZZZZZZZT!
A thick, swirling cloud of pitch-black Ashen Devouring Qi erupted from Railin's palm, wrapping around Supervisor Ba's arm like a nest of ravenous, dark serpents.
"ARGHHHHHHH! MY MERIDIANS! MY QI! MY BODY!"
Supervisor Ba let out an ungodly, blood-curdling shriek that echoed off the high basalt ceiling, drowning out the sound of the blast furnaces. The dark Qi forced its way through his skin pores, violently invading his vascular system, ripping apart his Second Level dantian, and extracting every single drop of his spiritual energy, muscle vitality, and life essence.
The bloated supervisor thrashed and kicked frantically, trying to strike Railin with his free hand, but Railin's grip remained absolute and unyielding.
The surrounding dozens of labor servants dropped their shovels and baskets in absolute terror, staring in stunned, speech-deprived horror at the scene unfolding before them. They watched as the terrifying tyrant who had tortured them for years began to physically shrivel before their very eyes—his fat skin turning pale, dry, and wrinkled like old parchment, his bulging muscles collapsing into thin, frail threads, and his black hair turning snow-white in a matter of seconds.
CRACK.
With a final, sharp twist of his wrist, Railin casually broke Ba's shriveled wrist bone and released his hold.
Supervisor Ba's dried, withered body crashed onto the hot cavern floor like a light sack of dry branches. He was still breathing faintly, his eyes wide with hollow terror, but his cultivation base was completely destroyed, his meridians pulverized beyond repair, and his physical lifespan reduced from that of a healthy man to a dying, crippled eighty-year-old on his deathbed.
Absolute, suffocating silence descended over the sprawling furnace hall, broken only by the rhythmic crackle of the blast fires and the bubbling of molten iron. The dozens of labor servants stood frozen in place, staring at Railin with a terrifying mix of awe, shock, and primal dread. None of them dared to make a sound, nor did they dare to meet his gaze.
Railin paid the trembling crowd no attention whatsoever.
He looked down at the whimpering, shriveled husk of Supervisor Ba lying in the dirt, reached down with calm precision, and unclipped the supervisor's heavy iron key ring and spatial storage pouch from his withered sash.
"The furnace quarters have a new master," Railin announced quietly, his voice carrying an unquestionable, sovereign weight that vibrated through the cavern stone. "Return to your work."
Without waiting for a response or acknowledging the trembling bows of the terrified laborers, Railin turned on his heel and walked toward the private, heavy stone-walled quarters located at the far back of the cavern—the luxurious, isolated sanctuary that had previously belonged exclusively to Supervisor Ba.
He pushed open the heavy oak door, stepped inside, and kicked it shut behind him, sliding the massive iron deadbolt into place with a heavy CLANG that completely sealed the room off from the outside furnace noise.
Stepping into the center of the clean, spacious room, Railin glanced around. The room was well-furnished, equipped with a soft bed, a sturdy desk, and a high-grade meditation stone mat positioned directly over a small, natural thermal vent that provided warmth without the sulfurous fumes of the outer pits.
Railin walked over to the stone mat and sat down in a cross-legged meditation posture.
With a simple flick of his right wrist, he activated his dark steel storage ring, summoning fifty High-Grade Spirit Stones and the jade vial containing the three golden Meridian-Forging Pills from his spatial inventory. The azure spirit stones floated in a brilliant, humming circle around his body, casting a dazzling, translucent light across the stone walls of the private chamber, while the pill bottle hovered directly before his chest.
He had cleanly eliminated his immediate internal threats, hidden his presence under the cover of the furnace quarters, and secured an absolute, undisturbed sanctuary.
Now, with vast resources floating at his fingertips and his meridians fully restored to dark iron strength, it was time to enter secluded cultivation, refine his gains, and push his power into realms that the outer academy had never witnessed in its history.
See you in next chapter.....