Qing Feng stepped deeper into the Forest of the Valley of Death. Thick mist hung low, sealing every path of escape as if heaven itself denied him a way out. Despair crept into his heart, yet the moment his fingers brushed against the blue cord he had been clutching since the beginning, a spark of faith ignited once more. Straightening his back, he pressed forward, piercing through the merciless forest in search of a way out.
Sweat dripped from his temples, soaking into his tattered robes. His breath grew heavy, his body gnawed by exhaustion. Yet the fire of vengeance for his parents' deaths refused to fade. Every step felt like a defiance of death, especially when monstrous shadows slithered out from behind the trees. Though their strength was formidable, he cut them down one by one, each battle nothing more than a stepping stone toward the fate he pursued.
With each step, strange whispers brushed against his ears, faint yet piercing. "Qing Feng… why do you not yield? Accept the destiny I have laid before you." The voice pressed against his soul, stoking an anger that nearly consumed him. Though it sounded like a god mocking his weakness, Qing Feng only straightened his spine. He marched on, daring the heavens, refusing to bow to the chains of fate.
His breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale stabbing into his chest. His lips trembled with words almost swept away by the wind. "How long must I wander before the way out of this Valley of Death reveals itself?" His voice vanished into the mist, as if the forest itself mocked his despair.
The ground trembled beneath him. From the shrouded haze, a colossal beast emerged, its aura surging like crashing waves that threatened to drown his spirit. Even the breath of the forest seemed to halt at its presence. When its massive claw descended, Qing Feng's body moved with startling speed. Though he was only at the Qi Sensing Realm, his Light Steps carried him beyond the strike that could have pulverized a mountain.
His eyes locked onto the towering figure. The roar of the demonic ape shattered the air, its cry powerful enough to crumble boulders. "So it's true…" he muttered, recalling Qin Ziyan's warning about the ruler of the Valley of Death. Cold sweat ran down his face, but his gaze did not waver.
Qing Feng darted away, pushing his fledgling realm to its absolute limit. Behind him, the ape's furious roars shook the air, rustling the leaves as if the forest itself trembled with fear. "I must escape… or my body will be crushed beneath its claws." Panic pounded in his heart, but his legs did not stop.
The earth ahead shook violently. From the black fog rose a dragon, its dim scales shimmering as its oppressive aura weighed upon heaven and earth. Every path closed, as though the sky itself denied him any chance of escape. Yet within his heart stirred a forbidden technique—an art his master had warned him never to use before stepping into the Body Forging Realm. His fingers clenched tightly. This was his only path forward.
He leapt into the air, piercing through the mist. From above, he saw both ape and dragon roaring below. His fingers traced swift, intricate seals, painting secret patterns across the void. "Dragon Fist, Spirit Level!" His voice thundered, and golden light erupted from his arm. A dragon's shadow manifested, gleaming like a celestial guardian. Behind him, a colossal golden dragon rose, shaking heaven and earth as it dove forward alongside his strike.
BOOM!
The Valley of Death quaked under the explosion, flocks of birds scattering frantically into the gray sky. A faint smile touched Qing Feng's lips, but agony instantly tore through his body. Blood seeped from his eyes and pores, soaking his robes. His body wavered before plummeting from the heavens like a fallen star.
"So… this is why. No wonder Master forbade me from using the Dragon Fist before stepping into Body Forging…" His murmur was barely carried by the wind. His consciousness dimmed as his Qi rioted chaotically, collapsing from the second level back to the first.
---
Twenty hours passed since Qing Feng's body had crashed down. He had fallen unconscious before even striking the ground, as though fate itself had left him with a single thread of hope.
At last, his eyelids quivered open. Pain coursed from his back through every inch of his body, each breath cutting him like blades from within. He struggled to rise, yet only half his body obeyed. Dried blood clung to his face and robes, weakness bound him like invisible chains. Even so, his eyes carried a faint glimmer of unyielding resolve.
"Fortunate… I still live. Otherwise, my vengeance would have been buried with me." His gaze lifted to the dim sky, hatred flickering in his eyes. "That Dragon Fist… far more powerful than I imagined."
Drawing in a sharp breath, he whispered to the heavens, "Why are you so cruel to us mortals, oh Heaven? Are we no more than cattle in your eyes, to be toyed with at your whim?" His voice dissolved into the valley's mournful winds.
Slowly, he forced himself upright. Every joint screamed, every vein writhed, yet somehow he stood. Confusion mingled with a faint joy—despite the torment of his forbidden art, he still drew breath.
The Valley of Death stretched endlessly before him. His master's warning echoed in his mind: to stop was to surrender his life. Ignoring his aching body, he staggered forward.
The mist stirred once more. A monstrous plant creature emerged, its rotting aura spreading, withering leaves in its presence. Qing Feng froze. His wounds remained unhealed, fear and agony numbing his legs. Cold sweat pattered onto the soil, louder than the silence. The monster's empty gaze locked upon him.
Summoning every shred of strength, Qing Feng forced himself to run. His steps faltered, his body screamed, yet he did not stop. Looking to the heavens, he roared, "Fate! You only mock me! Remember this—when I am truly strong, I will mock you as you mock me today!"
He glanced back—his heart nearly burst. Not one, but three plant monstrosities loomed, their gazes fixed upon him like predators upon prey.
A narrow cave appeared in the cliffside. Without hesitation, he rushed toward it, breath ragged, sweat soaking his body. Just as he crossed the threshold—
BOOM!
The monsters' strike crushed the cave mouth, rubble cascading down. Qing Feng was cornered, pressed against the cold stone wall. His breath came quick, his terror mounting as one monster forced its head through the gap.
"Fate! Heaven! Must you hound me even into my last refuge?" His cry echoed, shuddering the bleak skies, as though gods and destiny themselves were laughing.
At the brink of despair, a small jade bottle rolled to his side. His eyes widened—curiosity outshining fear. With trembling hands, he uncorked it, revealing three shimmering pills.
"Healing pills…" he whispered. Without hesitation, he swallowed them all, then sat cross-legged upon the cave floor. Outside, the monsters raged, their massive bodies unable to force entry.
Black and crimson light erupted from his body. Foul impurities seeped from his pores, staining the air with their stench. Slowly, his torn body began to knit, muscles tightening, his face regaining its sharp resolve.
His eyes snapped open, blazing like fire. A pillar of light shot skyward, piercing the clouds with thunderous force. His screams of pain echoed throughout the valley, scattering flocks of birds in panic.
He rose, trembling, yet wrapped in newfound power. His hair spilled over his face, his gaze shining beneath its strands. Qi surged violently through his meridians—his Qi Sensing Realm had leapt from the first stage to the third.
"Very well," he murmured with a faint smile. "Second Master, it is time I use your art—even if it costs me another fall."
He raised his fists, his movements steady, his eyes filled with unwavering determination.
"Dragon Fist, Spirit Level!"
A golden dragon erupted behind him, blinding light filling the cave.
BOOM!
The cave mouth shattered, stone bursting apart. One plant beast was obliterated. Cloaked in Qi, Qing Feng burst forth, moving like the wind. Yet the other two pursued, their roars shaking the forest.
Blood trickled from his lips, his realm sinking back to the second stage, but his steps never faltered. The monsters' shadows loomed close, death itself refusing to let him go.
Without realizing it, his path led to a gaping abyss. The chasm yawned endlessly, exhaling a chilling wind as though it connected to another world.
Qing Feng's face hardened, his eyes gleaming with fierce resolve. "No matter what… I must endure!" he whispered, defying both the monsters behind and the abyss ahead.
---
At the cliff's edge, Qing Feng stood, his breath ragged. Cold sweat dripped onto the cracked earth like his final drops of blood. What should I do? His heart thundered.
Behind him, more plant monstrosities emerged, their foul aura devouring the air. One raised a sharp branch, targeting his right arm—the one bound by the blue cord, his parents' keepsake.
The choice was clear: die in their grasp, or surrender himself to the bottomless abyss. His face was pale, his eyes dim with fatigue, yet still blazing with determination.
Swish! The branch thrust forward. Qing Feng twisted, sacrificing his left arm to protect the cord. A bitter smile flickered across his lips, soon swallowed by shadows of hatred.
"Heaven… gods… do you never tire of your games? You stole my village, my father, my mother. And now… my very life as well?" His words dissolved into the abyss's howling winds, as though the world itself refused to hear.
Raising his right arm, hand gripping the cord, his body trembled with resolve. His gaze pierced the heavens, his voice flat yet resounding like a war drum.
"For this cord, I swear: I will avenge all that was stolen from me. If this path has no end, if reincarnation will not claim me, then I shall shatter the cycle itself. Until my name resounds once more and my vengeance is fulfilled, this cord shall bear witness to my oath!"
His vow thundered against the sky. The air around him shuddered. From the abyss, swirling light rose, forming a vast vortex—a portal of violet darkness that devoured the light of the world.
SWOOSH!
A violent gale erupted. Qing Feng's body was seized, dragged mercilessly as though fate itself forced him onto a new path. His eyes widened; there was no escape left—only descent, only the current of destiny pushing him deeper.
---
When his senses returned, Qing Feng found himself within a foreign chamber. Stone walls stretched high, etched with intricate carvings. Faint lines of light coiled like ancient dragons bound within the rock. Each stroke radiated solemn majesty, shaking his heart.
"What… is this place? How did I come here?" His voice barely stirred the silence.
Suddenly, he recalled the words of the Willow Tree. Ancient ruins… The thought struck him, leaving his eyes wide with awe and caution alike.
"Very well… let us see what lies hidden in these ruins. Could it be… an artifact from an age long past?" His whisper trembled with curiosity, his gaze gleaming.
He stepped into the dark, frigid corridor. Stone walls glimmered faintly with carvings, as if gods and dragons slumbered within them. Each footstep echoed far, as though the ruins themselves were testing his resolve.