When the first slivers of sunlight slipped through the blinds, Stephen slowly opened his eyes. A strand of turbid qi left his lungs as he exhaled, the sensation of fullness in his soul sea easing. The moment cultivation ceased, a loud rumble came from his stomach.
He turned toward the parcel beside him and devoured the food like a starved wolf. Only after licking the last traces from his fingers did he breathe out and push himself off the bed. A wash, a fresh change of clothes, and the familiar weight of his sword at his side brought a sense of quiet readiness.
He stepped through the outpost gates and into the city. Ironveil was already waking: shutters opening, footsteps echoing over stone, and the warm, comforting scent of fresh bread drifting through the streets.
On impulse, he detoured to the bakery.A large bun filled with minced beast meat cost him two points — cheap, but not painless. Merit points had become a cruel currency he could almost feel burning as he spent them.
He took slow bites as he walked, watching the city breathe.
A group of children rushed past in shorts, chasing each other with chaotic laughter. Near the fountain, a young couple practiced with wooden swords, the ripples of the pond flashing gold as koi fish darted beneath the surface. Their carefree energy lifted something dormant in his chest, and he felt a small, involuntary smile tug at his lips.
But then the city gates came into view — and everything outside them was different.
Merchants and hunters streamed in and out. Some carried sacks of monster materials, others crates, medicinal bundles, ores he couldn't name. One caravan carried a massive cage wrapped in dark cloth. Sobs leaked through the fabric. Something — someone — cried from inside.
He didn't slow down.
Slavery had been legalized long ago. Too many humans died to beasts or to their own kind; too many were abandoned by families who couldn't afford to raise them. Buy, sell, survive — that was the order of things.
Fragile. That was all life was.
He left Ironveil behind.
The outer forests greeted him with swaying branches and the scent of damp soil. Sunlight cut through dense green in scattered shafts, like golden spears stabbing at shadow. Leaves crackled softly beneath his boots.
This stretch was only two kilometers. A simple crossing, they said.
But as he pushed forward, he quickly learned how laughable the word "simple" was.
A darting blur lunged from behind a trunk — a beast the size of a wolf, scales glinting green — and died in a single stroke.
Another tried from above.Another, beneath a root.
None lasted more than two moves.
He was deep within the forest by the time the sun sank. Hours of walking, pockets of small battles, and not a drop of fatigue. His body hummed with the steady rhythm of the Breath of the Azure Phoenix, his senses honed, mind alert.
Everyone knew this stretch of land.The locals called it The Black Forest.
A hundred kilometers wide.Cities built along its edges.Hunters living or dying in its shadow.
It held opportunities for those brave enough — and graves for those foolish enough. Some places deep inside had never been charted. No one who wandered into them ever returned.
Stephen knew his limits. Even though he had grown stronger at an astonishing pace, he was not arrogant enough to imagine himself invincible. There were always people in the same realm who could crush him. There were things out there beyond comprehension.
And night was coming.
Darkness in the Black Forest didn't belong to humans.
He moved quickly, scanning until he found a sturdy tree with thick branches, leaf canopy heavy enough to obscure him. He checked the branches with caution, then scaled up, settling into a dense cradle of foliage. There was enough space to sit cross-legged, back to the trunk.
He took out two low-rank energy stones, one in each hand, and closed his eyes.
Cultivation began.
Silver threads of energy poured from the stones into his soul sea, a steady river feeding an insatiable tide. Stone after stone dimmed to ash.When the second pair crumbled in his hands, he forced himself not to groan.
These were the last stones he'd been able to afford.
He had spent the final scraps of his merit points.
And they were already gone.
Still, he continued cultivating.He would not face tomorrow as the same weak boy he was yesterday.