Wu Ming stood in the midst of the battlefield, his face expressionless despite the stench of blood thick in the air. Su Lingxue's corpse lay before him, her once-icy eyes dull, forever frozen in death.
The wind whispered through the ravine, rustling the trees as if mourning her passing.
Wu Ming let out a quiet breath, wiping the blood off his sword with the hem of her robes. The blade gleamed under the moonlight, reflecting the cold curve of his smirk.
Then reaching into the pouch at his waist, he retrieved a concealment talisman. The moment he activated it, a dark mist spread across his body, swallowing his spiritual energy, scent, and even the sound of his steps. He became a shadow in the night, unseen and unheard.
Then, gripping the Wolf King's fangs that he had harvested earlier, he crouched beside her lifeless body. With a sharp motion, he drove them into her flesh. A sickening squelch echoed in the silence. His hands moved with precision, tearing muscle, breaking bone, reducing the body to a mangled mess.
Blood soaked his fingers as he mutilated her corpse, mimicking the brutal way a beast would have devoured its prey. He worked methodically, taking chunks of her flesh, he shoved them into the bellies of the dead wolves and some between thier teeth, ensuring that if any trace of her was found, it would seem as though she had been devoured alive.
His stomach churned violently at the sight and nauseating smell. Afterall, it was his first time doing something like this, and it was far worse than he had imagined. Several times, the young man felt the urge to vomit, but he swallowed it down, his nails digging into his palm to anchor himself.
Once the girl's corpse was beyond recognition, he turned his attention to the battlefield itself. After a moment of careful consideration, Wu Ming decide against modifying the battleground.
Only then did he straighten, his gaze lifting to the night sky.
The moon positioned high, its silver light casting long shadows across the bloodied ground. He could not linger here. The scent of blood might draw scavengers, and though he was confident in his ability to handle most Rank One beasts, he saw no reason to waste his strength.
Without another glance at the scene, he turned and vanished into the darkness, his figure shrouded in mist.
For the next two hours, he ran at full speed, drifting through the dense trees without slowing. He killed a few weaker Rank One beasts with ease, striking them down before they could react, but whenever a stronger presence stirred, he veered off course, slipping past undetected.
His concealment talisman held firm, masking his presence from all but the most perceptive creatures. The only thing that threatened to slow him down was exhaustion.
He had spent the entire day in motion—fighting, tracking, again fighting, and now fleeing. His spiritual essence had dropped to barely thirty percent, and though his body was still capable, he felt the burden of fatigue pressing against him like a boulder.
By the time the lights of a mortal village came into view, he knew it was the right decision to stop and rest.
In the Black River Mountain, cultivators were not the only ones who resided. Mortals lived here as well. Beyond the sect's towering gates, hundreds of mortal villages dotted the land like scattered leaves.
These mortal settlements were not homes, not in the truest sense. They were resources, a vast human farm cultivated for the sect's needs.
The organizations in this world ruled not just by strength but by management. From these villages, children with talent were taken in as outer disciples, while the rest were condemned to a lifetime of servitude. They tended to spirit fields, mined raw materials, crafted mortal weapons, or scrubbed the grand halls where cultivators walked.
These villages were nothing more than breeding grounds for labor.
As Wu Ming approached a settlement, memories surfaced, though not his own. The predecessor of this body had once called this place home, but to the current Wu Ming, it was nothing more than a remnant of a life that no longer existed. There was no nostalgia, no longing. Only faint recognition, like an old book collecting dust on a forgotten shelf.
He allowed the concealment talisman to fade. The dark mist dissipated, and a few breaths later, a wave of divine sense brushed against him.
A figure appeared moments later.
He was in his mid-twenties, his standard outer sect robes neat but weathered, the badge of the Martial Hall pinned to his sleeve.
His cultivation base was at the seventh layer of Green Copper Realm. His eyes, sharp and experienced, flickered with wariness before softening with recognition.
"Junior Brother Wu?"
Wu Ming barely reacted. His robes were wrinkled, his hair unkempt, and his eyes bloodshot as if he had clawed his way out of hell.
The man's brows knitted, "You look terrible. What happened?"
Wu Ming exhaled shakily. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, carrying the burden of deep regret. "Senior Brother Liu… the world is cruel."
Liu Han's frown deepened at the vague response. He had known the original Wu Ming, and though they were not close, he could hear something heavy and painful in those words.
"Junior brother, speak clearly."
Wu Ming let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in self-mockery. His shoulders trembled, as if barely holding himself together. "I… I was a fool."
Liu Han's expression darkened. "What do you mean?"
Wu Ming drew in a shaky breath. "I met someone today. Su Lingxue. We had never spoken before, but the moment I saw her, it felt like fate." He paused, as if reliving the moment. "She was proud, strong-willed. She challenged me to a duel, and though I won, I…" He swallowed. "I was lost in the beauty of her spirit."
Liu Han crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "And?"
Wu Ming lowered his gaze, his voice trembling with self-loathing. "I convinced her to come with me on a mission. I thought… I thought it would be a chance to prove myself worthy of her." His fists clenched. "But I was wrong."
Liu Han's gaze sharpened. "She's dead."
Wu Ming laughed, but it was hollow, broken. "Because of me." His fingers dug into his palms, drawing half-moon marks into his skin. "I misjudged the danger. I thought we could handle it, but the wolves were too many, too strong. I wasn't fast enough, wasn't strong enough… She died because I was weak."
Liu Han studied him for a long moment before sighing. "Listen to me, Junior Brother. We all have regrets. Every cultivator who has walked this path has lost someone, failed someone, watched helplessly as the world tore apart at something they held dear. Junior Brother, you must understand this, death is just far too common in our world. So, blaming yourself entirely is not right."
Wu Ming's hands trembled. "But isn't it my fault? I thought words could change fate, that cleverness could overcome strength… but what use are words against claws and fangs?" His voice grew raw, filled with deep anguish. "If I had been stronger, if I had been ruthless in the pursuit of my cultivation from the start, would she have died? No. She would have lived, and the only corpses would have been those of the beasts."
Liu Han let out another sigh, his arms dropping to his sides as he regarded Wu Ming with something close to sympathy. "You remind me of myself when I was younger. Thinking ideals could shape reality." He shook his head. "But the world isn't so kind. We cultivate to carve out our own fates, not to reason with it. Tell me, Junior Brother, do you ever want to feel this helpless again?"
Wu Ming lowered his head, fists trembling. "Senior Brother… I…" His jaw tightened, forcing out words between ragged breaths. "I don't want to feel this weak ever again."
Liu Han squeezed his shoulder, his voice turning firm. "Then don't. Use this pain. Let it burn, let it temper you. A cultivator's heart should be like tempered steel, strong enough to endure, sharp enough to cut through hesitation. You have the will. I see it in your eyes. Don't waste it on regret. If Su Lingxue were here, would she want you to drown in guilt?"
Wu Ming's expression twisted as if the words struck deep. He closed his eyes, took a shuddering breath, and nodded. "No. She wouldn't."
'You idiot. Of course she would. If she had the choice, she'd rather I be crying over her grave than walking away unscathed. But that's the thing, Senior Brother. She's dead, and I'm not. And that's all that matters.'
Liu Han exhaled, his posture easing. "Then let this be the last time you feel like this. Cultivate. Grow stronger. Make sure no one you care about ever has to die because you were too weak. Do you understand?"
'Understand? Oh, I understood it the moment I was dragged into this world. I understood it the moment she stopped breathing. The moment her treasures became mine, I understood it. You think this is some turning point in my heart, Senior Brother? No. This is just the act I need to put on to walk away clean.'
'Some in the sect saw me leaving with Su Lingxue. If there's an investigation on her missing, it'll be easy to connect me to her death. Running back in silence would only make me a suspect. But by making my pain known, by displaying my grief, I can turn suspicion into sympathy. I'm not the culprit, no, I'm the victim. I'm the poor bastard who watched her die. And you, Senior Brother, are going to help sell that story.' Wu Ming sneered internally.
But outwardly, Wu Ming slowly looked up, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Liu Han's. "I understand now." His voice was weak, but beneath it lay an iron determination. "The way of the scholar is useless. What is knowledge without strength? What is wisdom if it cannot protect?"
His lips curled into a bitter smile. "I was blind, Senior Brother. I thought I could reason with the world, but the world only listens to power. So from today, I'll work harder. Cultivate more diligently than ever before. This, I swear on my family name."
Liu Han gave him a firm pat on the back. "Good. That's the right mindset. You'll come out of this stronger."
Wu Ming let a hint of gratitude flicker in his gaze. "Thank you, Senior Brother. I won't forget this."
'Oh, I'll remember this moment, alright. But not for the reasons you think.' Wu Ming laughed coldly in his heart.
Liu Han watched him for a moment longer, then nodded. "Rest here for the night. You look like you need it."
Wu Ming allowed exhaustion to seep into his features. "Thank you, Senior Brother."
As he followed Liu Han toward the village, his mind remained sharp, his heart cold.
The image of a naive scholar was gone. In its place stood a man who had been wounded by the world. Someone who would no longer trust in ideals, but in strength alone.
And that was exactly what he wanted others to believe.
The scholar's gimmick was dead.