Chen mo returned to his hidden cave by the cliff, this time burdened with a small fortune of goods—plundered from the bandit stronghold and supplemented by his latest black market acquisitions. He carefully arranged everything, preparing the medicinal bath with precision. The liquid shimmered under the weak light, the scent of rare herbs and potent powders filling the air.

  Without hesitation, he immersed himself in the bath, feeling the searing heat penetrate his skin. As he began circulating the Primordial Body Art, a torturous wave of pain surged through his meridians. Every pathway he opened seemed to scream in resistance, every movement of Qi felt like molten iron forcing its way through fragile conduits. His body convulsed, his teeth clenched, and his vision blurred—he had underestimated the intensity of this new method.

  Minutes—or was it hours?—passed in agonizing struggle. At one point, the pain became unbearable, and Chen mo’s consciousness slipped away, darkness swallowing him entirely. When he awoke, gasping and drenched in sweat, he had no choice but to take two recovery pills simultaneously, feeling the potent herbs wash over his body, easing the lingering torment. Even then, his limbs trembled and his heart raced from the strain, but a deeper power hummed through him, signaling the gradual adaptation of his new cultivation method.

  Chen mo sighed, a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration on his face. This was the price of true advancement, and he was determined to endure it, no matter how excruciating.

  Chen mo exhaled slowly, feeling the lingering heat of the Blood Burning Body Powder coursing through his veins. “Truly worthy of its name,” he muttered, then turned to check his panel.

  Realm: Skin Refining (Late stage) 220/300

  Martial Art: Primordial Body Art (incomplete)

  “Thirty points… good, late stage again…” Chen mo nodded, satisfaction flickering across his face. But the relief was short-lived. Something else caught his attention, and his eyes widened.

  “The Primordial Body Art… incomplete?” he whispered to himself, shock evident in his voice. This manual is supposed to lead directly to innate!

  He paused, heart hammering. “Does that mean there’s more… after innate?”

  Chen mo shook his head, forcing himself to dismiss the thought. He had stumbled upon this manual by sheer coincidence—its power was already extraordinary. Worrying about what came after innate was premature.

  For now, his priorities were clear: reach Muscle Refining, secure enough resources, and depart for Jian City. Delaying any longer was too dangerous. The Silver Crane School might tighten its grip, blocking all possible escape routes. Staying here and cultivating in secret would drain his wealth, and he couldn’t keep slipping in and out of the city indefinitely.

  With resolve hardening in his eyes, Chen mo prepared to move forward. Every second now mattered.

  The dim light of the dungeon flickered against the damp stone walls, casting grotesque shadows over the victims. Screams echoed endlessly, bouncing off the walls, a symphony of agony orchestrated by Silver Crane Martial Hall’s merciless enforcers.

  In the far corner, Lian lay shackled by specialized chains that restricted even the slightest movement. His body was limp, his spirit nearly broken, yet his mind raced in chaotic fragments. Nearby, Jia Tao slumped against the cold floor, eyes glazed and unfocused, staring into the void as if trying to grasp a reality that had already slipped away. He didn’t fully understand what had led them here—one moment he had been training with focus, joining the ranks of formal disciples, and the next, everything had collapsed.

  He remembered fleeting glimpses of his family—his father once exhilarated by their progress, now captured and thrown into this pit of suffering alongside him. The screams of other captives mingled with his own sense of helplessness. Even Master Lian, their revered instructor, hovered on the brink of death, his body broken, his qi depleted from hours of relentless torment.

  Jia Tao’s thoughts flitted desperately, unable to connect the fragments: their families, their masters, the dungeon, the pain… and above all, a single name whispered through the chaos: Chen mo.

  Though he didn’t understand how, he knew it was Chen mo’s doing. Yet the truth eluded him, trapped behind the fog of fear and incomprehension. The dungeon offered no answers—only suffering, silence between screams, and the cold certainty that their world had changed irreversibly.

  The village lay silent under the early morning sun, but the air was thick with tension. The Silver Crane Martial Hall experts, led by Zhang Qiang and Li Yuxue, moved like predators, their eyes sharp as they swept through the settlement. Villagers were forced into the central square, about three hundred strong, trembling under the sheer presence of true martial experts.

  Homes were turned upside down, belongings scattered, smoke rising from overturned hearths and broken pottery. Not a single trace of Chen mo could be found—he had vanished like a phantom, leaving only chaos in his wake.

  Zhang Qiang sat stoically in the chief’s yard, Li Yuxue beside him, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of the fugitive. The village chief was on his knees, body trembling, sweat dripping down his face. He had known something was amiss the night Chen mo had dragged him from his bed, but he had never imagined the magnitude of the calamity that followed.

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  His thoughts churned with fear and resentment. The boy had brought Silver Crane’s wrath upon the village, and now the entire clan’s fate hung by a thread. Each sound of a boot striking the dirt, each clatter of overturned belongings, reminded him that this was no ordinary raid—it was a reckoning, and Chen mo was the storm at its center.

  The chief’s eyes flicked between Zhang Qiang and Li Yuxue, silently pleading for mercy, though he knew none would come. All that remained was waiting for the judgment, and hoping, against all odds that they will survive today's calamity.

  A while later, one of the guards hurried over and clasped his fists respectfully.

  “My lord, we searched everywhere. There is no trace of the criminal, Chen mo.”

  Zhang Qiang had expected as much. That boy was far too sharp to remain here. He was merely following orders now. In this world, no one betrayed the Silver Crane School and escaped unscathed.

  His gaze shifted to the trembling village chief.

  “You will answer truthfully,” Zhang Qiang said coldly. “If I sense you are hiding anything, do not blame me for being ruthless and exterminating your entire village.”

  The chief collapsed completely, his forehead smashing into the dirt.

  “Yes! Yes, my lord! I will answer truthfully! Please spare us, we are just ordinary folk!”

  Zhang Qiang’s voice was flat.

  “Chen mo. Where is he?”

  The chief knew there was no room for deception. Clutching at the last thread of hope, he stammered,

  “I… I really don’t know, my lord…”

  The pressure radiating from Zhang Qiang suddenly doubled, crushing down like a mountain. The chief’s face went pale as death.

  “H-he passed by the village at night… two days ago…”

  Zhang Qiang’s eyebrow twitched.

  “Mmm. And?”

  The chief hurried on, words tumbling over each other.

  “He asked me about the location of the bandit stronghold and then left directly. I swear, my lord, that is all I know!”

  Zhang Qiang fell silent, deep in thought.

  Did the boy choose those ragtag bandits as shelter?

  If so, it would be the greatest joke of all. Bandits protecting someone from the Silver Crane School?

  He stood up abruptly.

  “Gather the guards. We will visit those bandits.”

  Li Yuxue leaned closer and whispered,

  “What about the villagers?”

  Zhang Qiang’s eyes were cold and indifferent.

  “If the search proves fruitless, there will be plenty of time to make an example of them. Right now, we have no time.”

  He turned and strode away.

  “Let’s go.”

  A few hours later, Zhang Qiang’s team stood amid the ruins of the bandit stronghold. Charred corpses and scattered bones lay piled together, blackened by fire. The once crude buildings had collapsed into twisted remains, the smell of ash still lingering in the air.

  Li Yuxue stared at the scene, shock flickering across her face. She could not help but ask,

  “Who did these bandits provoke?”

  Zhang Qiang shook his head slowly.

  “I don’t know. But it seems we have reached a dead end,” he said solemnly.

  Li Yuxue hesitated before voicing her thought.

  “Could that boy… have perished here along with them?”

  Zhang Qiang narrowed his eyes, scanning the ruins.

  “Maybe. But we can’t be sure. He could also be hiding in some unknown hole in the mountains. For him, the city is far more dangerous now.”

  Li Yuxue frowned.

  “So… we just give up?”

  Zhang Qiang snorted softly.

  “We can’t. We’ll search the vicinity for a few more days. Our sources say Ah Gu is also leading a team to hunt him down.”

  His gaze turned cold.

  “At the very least, we won’t withdraw before they do.”

  Within two days, the mountains echoed with the movements of two separate search teams. Zhang Qiang’s group and Ah Gu’s team deliberately avoided crossing paths, each combing through valleys, ridges, and hidden ravines.

  It was immediately obvious who was more tense. Ah Gu’s face was taut with anxiety; every sound made him snap his head around, and he barked orders at his subordinates with a sharp edge, frustration leaking through every word.

  Zhang Qiang, by contrast, wore a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. He watched Ah Gu struggle, his own demeanor calm and collected, letting the younger man’s nerves do much of the work. Occasionally, he shouted directions or comments in a casual tone, deliberately designed to stoke Ah Gu’s panic, and he seemed to enjoy the way Ah Gu’s posture stiffened each time he did.

  The mountains, once silent and serene, had become a stage of tension—one where the hunted was nowhere to be seen, and the hunters were already turning on each other in impatience and rivalry.

  Chen Mo let out a slow breath, feeling the residual heat of the medicinal bath seep into every fiber of his body. His panel glowed faintly in the dim light of the cave, reflecting his progress like a promise on the horizon.

  Realm: Skin Refining (Late) 251/300

  A shiver of excitement ran through him. Just two more cultivation sessions, and he would break through to the Muscle Refining Realm. At that stage, even the most skilled muscle refining experts

  in the region would struggle to contend with him.

  He flexed his fingers, feeling the surge of power radiate through his limbs, a tingling warmth that made his skin almost shimmer under the dim cave light. Despite the agony of the bath, he was wide awake this time—no fainting, no clinging to consciousness. Pain had become a companion, not a hindrance.

  Chen Mo’s mind shifted to the next step. Jian City. Once he reached the Muscle Refining Realm, he would leave this remote cliff behind, abandoning any lingering dangers and the ever-watchful eyes of the Silver Crane Martial Hall.

  For now, he allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction. Every bead of sweat, every agonizing pulse of energy, had brought him closer to freedom—and to the power that would make that freedom unassailable.