In the northern area of Winterfell,
Heavy snow was falling, and the entire landscape was draped in silver.
At this moment, in the snowy forest to the north, Feng Qi found that the Mist Lord had lost all signs of life, leaving him stunned.
This sacrifice line was part of his plan.
He needed to use the Mist Lord as a stepping stone to investigate information from the perspective of domain forces.
Even to accompany the Mist Lord's growth, and then witness the future unfold.
If this plan succeeded, he would gain a large amount of valuable information,
Including the answers to questions like why domain forces were infiltrating human civilization, and what the mysterious miracle items truly were, and more.
But looking at the now lifeless Mist Lord, Feng Qi's smile completely froze.
According to history, Mu Qing had only shattered the Silent Domain Field, but never killed the Mist Lord.
If he had been killed, there would be no subsequent events, like the Mist Lord stealing the Bloodstone, controlling the Tiger Soul Research Institute, or researching the "Blood Sacrifice" technique.
This made him suspect that his presence had altered this timeline.
However, after some thought, he realized that this sacrifice line, just like the previous one,
Was set in motion after he had become fully aware of the consequences and decisively joined the Scarlet Research Institute. He then secluded himself for three years before emerging, without having much impact on the outside world.
But still, he felt that his appearance might have made a difference.
After all, small changes could have a profound impact on the future.
For instance, his refusal to let Mu Qing become the deputy commander at the graduation banquet might have indirectly led to her taking more drastic actions against the Mist Lord…
After a period of unnecessary speculation, he sighed, unable to find the reason.
He glanced at the half-buried body of the Mist Lord, intending to leave and replan his future.
After all, with no signs of life left, there was no way the Mist Lord could resurrect.
But just as he turned to leave, he suddenly heard a faint heartbeat.
Without hesitation, he quickly returned to the Mist Lord's side and began checking his condition again.
To his surprise, the Mist Lord's body was starting to function once again.
Could it be... a resurrection?
What a protagonist trope!
The Mist Lord had revived from death, reminding Feng Qi of the time in the future Dream Realm, when Mu Qing's consciousness had been shattered by Lin Ran and later reformed.
This ability to resurrect from death every time made him think of the main characters in novels, anime, and games.
In contrast, he was much more unfortunate.
Every sacrifice line meant certain death.
As he felt the Mist Lord gradually recovering from death, Feng Qi began preparing.
Opening his backpack, he pulled out a small medical kit and began performing emergency first aid on the Mist Lord.
The results didn't matter much; the important part was to show the Mist Lord his attitude when he woke up.
However, Feng Qi soon realized that things were slipping out of his control.
The Mist Lord's bodily functions were recovering rapidly, and if this continued, he might be able to act freely once revived.
This undoubtedly lowered his bargaining power.
There was a good chance that all his efforts would be in vain, as the Mist Lord might not even care.
What Feng Qi needed right now was a Mist Lord who was seriously injured, unable to move, and dependent on him.
Only under such conditions could he have a chance to open the Mist Lord's heart, even treating him like a "brother."
Thinking of this, he used his mental energy to invade the Mist Lord's body.
He began to deliberately damage his body.
After a series of actions, he withdrew his mental energy, satisfied with his work.
Next, Feng Qi opened the medical kit again, taking out various emergency items.
Special bandages, healing potions, and blood-stopping salves… he began to perform urgent first aid on the Mist Lord.
After half an hour of busy work, he applied the salve to the wounds and completed the bandaging.
He then sat back and waited for the Mist Lord to wake up.
Five hours passed.
In the dark night, Feng Qi built a wind-blocking ice wall with packed snow.
Using tools from his backpack, he lit a fire.
Looking over at the Mist Lord, he saw that the figure was still unconscious, showing no signs of waking.
Feng Qi wasn't in a hurry.
As long as the Mist Lord didn't die, a few more days of waiting wouldn't matter.
Another half-day passed.
The Mist Lord's body trembled lightly, and at last, his eyes slowly opened.
His gaze met that of a handsome young man who was smiling down at him:
"You're awake?"
Upon seeing the stranger, the Mist Lord immediately tried to stand, pulling away.
But as soon as he exerted force, he felt intense pain throughout his body and was unable to stand.
As his consciousness sank deeper into his body, he realized just how bad his condition was. Most of his body's functions had collapsed.
Seeing the severity of his injuries, the image of his battle with Mu Qing flashed in his mind.
A shadow loomed over his heart.
But realizing that he was still alive and had a second chance gave him renewed strength.
At this moment, just surviving felt like a miracle to him.
When the Silent Domain Field collapsed, part of the rules regarding it had been lost, causing a rejection reaction from the world.
Combined with the damage to his life source, he was constantly losing life force and could die at any moment.
In that situation, he had one thought: to try and shatter his life source and then remold it to create a new life source that would integrate with this world.
This was undoubtedly a life-and-death gamble, with an extremely low chance of success.
During the process, despair had crept over him.
And then, darkness had descended, and he had lost consciousness completely.
When the Mist Lord awakened, he was shocked to discover that his life source had been successfully reconstructed. The rejection from the world was gone as well.
Opening his eyes once more, he gazed cautiously at Feng Qi.
"Who are you?"
"I don't know. I've lost my memory," Feng Qi replied, shaking his head.
He had already prepared his explanation long before.
At this point, admitting to being part of a domain force would be a dangerous move, especially since his ignorance about the details of their society might expose him later.
Instead, it was better to establish himself as someone who didn't know anything, which would allow him to ask questions naturally without arousing suspicion from the Mist Lord.
Hearing Feng Qi's response, the Mist Lord showed a surprised expression.
"Lost your memory? Then why did you save me?"
"There's a strange sense of familiarity I feel from you. I thought you might be one of my kind," Feng Qi said, his face half-lit by the campfire's glow.
The Mist Lord frowned in thought, his gaze drifting to Feng Qi's bare chest, where a rune crystal embedded in his skin gleamed faintly.
It was clear Feng Qi was part of a domain force, but the Mist Lord was certain he wasn't one of his own.
Despite this, the genuine effort Feng Qi had put into saving him struck a chord. After all, in his current state—paralyzed and powerless—there was no benefit in saving him.
"I appreciate it, but I'm not your kin," the Mist Lord eventually said solemnly.
"I figured as much. Still, you feel familiar enough, so I'll consider you one of my own," Feng Qi replied with a grin.
The casual statement caused the Mist Lord's wariness to ease a little.
As their conversation continued, the Mist Lord asked about Feng Qi's circumstances.
Feng Qi kept his story simple.
He claimed to have lost his memory over a decade ago and had been living among humans ever since, unaware of his past or his purpose.
This incident—stumbling upon the Mist Lord—was merely a coincidence during one of his missions. Feeling a peculiar sense of connection, he decided to help.
After hearing Feng Qi's explanation, the Mist Lord fell silent, deep in thought.
"So... my life source was reconstructed with your help?" the Mist Lord suddenly asked.
"No," Feng Qi answered bluntly.
The Mist Lord was even more puzzled now. Before he lost consciousness, his life source had not been fully rebuilt. Yet, upon waking, it was whole again.
The mystery nagged at him as they spoke further, and he gradually understood Feng Qi's current predicament.
Feng Qi had lost most of his memories, lived quietly among humans, and had been fruitlessly searching for his people ever since.
Hearing this, the Mist Lord felt a sense of camaraderie.
Both of them, in their own way, were alone and striving toward uncertain goals—Feng Qi searching for his kin and the Mist Lord seeking to resurrect his.
This newfound connection made the Mist Lord view Feng Qi more favorably.
Over the next few days, Feng Qi stayed by the Mist Lord's side.
During this time, the Mist Lord's injuries healed rapidly.
By the third day, he was removing his bandages, his vitality visibly returning. The medicinal salves applied earlier had completely worn off, washed away by the energy flowing through his body.
"Now that you've recovered, I'll be on my way," Feng Qi said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and preparing to leave.
"Where to?" the Mist Lord asked.
"I told you already. I'm going to build a strong force. Once I'm strong enough, I'll find my people. Even if I can't, I'll find my way home," Feng Qi replied with a confident smile.
His words, though rehearsed, carried a hint of nervousness.
If the Mist Lord decided to let him go here, then his entire plan would fail.
"Why not travel together?" the Mist Lord asked earnestly.
"Why?" Feng Qi feigned surprise.
"Like you, I've lost my people. I have nothing left. We can work toward our goals together, supporting each other along the way."
Feng Qi gazed at the Mist Lord for a moment before nodding.
"Alright. Together it is."
They clasped hands, a faint smile appearing on both their faces.
Together, they braved the biting wind and heavy snow, heading toward Winterfell.
The Mist Lord's injuries hadn't completely healed yet. His blood energy was weak, rendering him unable to fly.
As they journeyed, they talked about their plans for the future.
After half a day of walking, the Mist Lord transformed into a misty form, floating alongside Feng Qi.
"You can turn into mist? Let's just call you Mist from now on," Feng Qi said.
"Call me whatever you want. Keep telling me about your idea. Right now, we have no support or resources. I think infiltrating human society and developing from there is our best bet," the Mist Lord replied.
Feng Qi's mind filled with questions at this suggestion.
"What do you mean by a path of conquest?" he asked.
"Expanding domain fields, of course. That's the true path of the strong—to constantly grow their territory and compete with other races for dominance."
"Why aren't you taking that path?"
"Don't ask. I once thought I was strong enough for it, but reality proved otherwise."
As he spoke, the memory of Mu Qing's devastating blows flashed through the Mist Lord's mind.
Feng Qi, on the other hand, was shocked by his words.
He had always believed that domain forces, whether strong or weak, preferred to infiltrate human civilizations.
But hearing the Mist Lord's explanation, it seemed that only weaker tribes infiltrated human civilization, while the strong ones expanded their domain fields and engaged in racial conquest.
Feeling deeply puzzled, Feng Qi immediately asked, "Does this mean there are no strong tribes among the forces infiltrating human society?"
"Of course there are," the Mist Lord replied. "The paths of conquest and infiltration don't conflict. However, top-tier tribes focused on conquest don't make human society their main priority. They only send a small number of their people to infiltrate human civilization, engaging in a grand game with other tribal forces."
Feng Qi's heart tightened as he heard this. "What exactly are they competing for?"
"They're laying out strategies for the future."
"What do you mean by 'laying out strategies for the future'? Why prepare for something so far ahead?"
"Even the strongest tribes might not escape the arrival of the ultimate calamity. They're all trying to become stronger before that day comes, hoping to withstand the catastrophe."
"What is this 'ultimate calamity'? You know I've lost my memory. I don't know anything."
"To be honest, I don't know the specifics either. I've never witnessed it. But I know it will be an unprecedented disaster, and only a very few of the strongest tribes might survive it."
As he spoke, the Mist Lord shifted back into his human form, his violet hair and eyes glinting faintly.
"The top-tier tribes have the power to destroy human civilization, but they haven't done so. The main reason is that human society right now is like a chessboard, and the tribes are all players competing with one another."
"Nobody will upend the chessboard, because whoever makes the first move risks becoming the target of everyone else."
The Mist Lord's explanation resonated with Feng Qi's earlier speculations. He had already noticed that the various domain forces were incredibly powerful. If they joined forces, they could easily obliterate human civilization.
But none of the tribes had done so. Clearly, while infiltrating human society, they were also competing among themselves.
However, Feng Qi had another lingering doubt: why were the domain forces collecting miracle items from human civilization? And how were these miracle items created? What exactly was the "Pillar God" the Mist Lord had once mentioned?
These questions remained unanswered for now. Feng Qi decided not to press further. His current persona was that of someone who knew nothing, and since the conversation had not yet touched upon miracle items, there would be plenty of chances to ask later.
They began discussing their future plans.
The Mist Lord's idea was straightforward: first find a way to integrate into human society and then seek opportunities for development. Their initial target was Winterfell.
Although the Mist Lord hadn't yet considered infiltrating the Tiger Soul Research Institute, he was already contemplating forming a human faction and using its support to become one of the "players" in the grand game.
Feng Qi agreed with this decision. Compared to the intense competition of the conquest-focused tribal forces, the relatively stable human society offered a better chance for development.
The path might be fraught with difficulty, but since he had chosen to follow the antagonist's route, Feng Qi resolved to walk it firmly, casting aside any hesitation.
For two days, they trudged through the snow, the bitter wind biting at their exposed skin. Their rations were exhausted, and Feng Qi, checking the navigation map, found that they were nearing Winterfell.
Just then, they spotted smoke rising in the distance.
After walking for a while longer, a village came into view.
Seeing the settlement, the Mist Lord's expression shifted slightly.
"My current form isn't convenient. Go scout ahead. I urgently need vitality to restore my strength," the Mist Lord said.
Hearing this, Feng Qi's heart sank. He knew the Mist Lord intended to target the village.
"Alright," Feng Qi replied after a brief hesitation, nodding in agreement.
He then walked toward the village.
About ten minutes later, he reached the village's entrance.
The settlement appeared to be a scavenger community, with a few armed guards stationed at the gate.
The guards looked surprised to see him.
"I got separated from my squad. I need your help," Feng Qi said calmly.
"Come in," the lead guard replied without suspicion, motioning for him to enter.
The guard led Feng Qi to a wooden house constructed from snow trees. He knocked on the door, and after a moment, an elderly man with white hair opened it.
The guard explained Feng Qi's situation, and the old man turned to study Feng Qi.
Their eyes met, and the elderly man, his wrinkled face softening with a kind smile, said, "Come in. I have food."
Without hesitation, Feng Qi followed the old man into the house.
The interior was simple. A fire crackled in the center, a pot of steaming meat broth bubbling above it.
Feng Qi's gaze was drawn to a large sword hanging on the wall.
"Sir, were you once a frontline soldier?" Feng Qi asked.
The old man chuckled as he took out bowls and chopsticks from a cabinet. "A long time ago, yes," he replied, serving a bowl of meat broth and handing it to Feng Qi.
Taking the bowl, Feng Qi drank deeply. The warmth of the broth spread through his body, revitalizing him.
His eyes returned to the sword on the wall. It looked familiar, but he couldn't recall where he had seen it before.
During their conversation, Feng Qi inquired about the village.
According to the old man, the scavenger settlement had once been prosperous. But in recent years, its population had dwindled. Most of the younger generation had left for the frontlines, leaving only the elderly, weak, and infirm behind.
Before parting, the old man gave Feng Qi directions to Winterfell and even gifted him a bag of food.
Leaving the village, Feng Qi felt a pang of hesitation.
After walking for about ten minutes, he returned to the Mist Lord, who had been waiting nearby. Shaking his head, he said,
"Too risky. Let's find another place," Feng Qi suggested.
The Mist Lord didn't question his words. He nodded and replied, "Alright."
But just as they were about to leave, the snowstorm intensified, obscuring their vision. Amid the swirling snow, a thin silhouette emerged in the distance. When the storm cleared, the elderly man from the village, the one who had welcomed Feng Qi, stood there holding a massive sword.
Disappointment flickered in the old man's eyes as he stared at Feng Qi.
"I didn't think you'd turn out to be a lapdog for the domain forces," the old man said, his voice tinged with sorrow.
The Mist Lord condensed into his human form, his expression turning vicious.
"It seems I have no choice but to take action. This old man's vitality is faint; he's just a flickering candle in the wind. He's no threat," the Mist Lord sneered.
The old man didn't answer. Instead, he swung his sword forward.
What appeared to be a simple strike harnessed the power of the heavens and earth. The wind and snow surged with the sword's intent, crashing toward them like a tidal wave.
The Mist Lord couldn't react in time and took the strike head-on.
The sheer force of the sword qi sent him flying, blood spurting from his mouth.
Feng Qi stared at the old man and suddenly remembered where he had seen him before.
Wang Jinsheng had once spoken of a legendary hero in class. A figure revered as a god of war among scavengers, this hero had single-handedly defended the northern territories for a time. He had slain countless domain transcendents throughout his life, never tasting defeat.
Many elite scavenger warriors, even key members of the ten great warbands, were trained under his guidance.
The man was a living legend. His identity was unmistakable, marked by the dragon-patterned greatsword he carried.
Feng Qi realized that the old man before him was none other than "Shou Yi," the Scavenger God of War.
However, the man's advanced age was apparent. By his calculation, the old warrior must be over 200 years old.
A sense of urgency gripped Feng Qi's heart.
He wasn't afraid of dying, but he feared his plans would collapse before they had even truly begun.
Gritting his teeth, he rushed to the Mist Lord's side, his muscles tensing as he prepared for what was to come.
The old man's eyes were cold and emotionless as he slowly raised his greatsword.
Sword qi radiated outward, pushing away the snow and wind. The scarlet energy emanating from the blade was sharp and unyielding.
The storm roared as the scarlet sword qi surged forward, resembling a roaring dragon engulfed in the tempest.
Behind Feng Qi, the Mist Lord lay gravely injured. Feng Qi couldn't retreat.
Biting down hard, he threw himself forward, taking the brunt of the attack.
Blood splattered. The pain was indescribable, as though his body was about to tear apart. His clothes shredded as deep, bone-revealing wounds from the sword qi crisscrossed his chest.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to his feet, his eyes unwavering as he stared at the old man.
The Mist Lord couldn't die.
Feng Qi had to ensure his survival.
As the Mist Lord had said, the old man's vitality was nearly spent. Though once a legend, he was no longer in his prime. Victory wasn't entirely out of reach.
Determined, Feng Qi activated the rune crystal embedded in his chest.
A crimson glow spread across his skin as his blood circulation accelerated. His vision blurred with intensity, and his self-healing ability kicked into overdrive, rapidly mending the wounds on his body.
Letting out a guttural roar, Feng Qi lunged toward the old man.
The scarlet sword qi flashed again, striking him squarely and sending him flying once more.
Struggling to his feet, he charged again.
Each time he was struck down, he rose again, like an unyielding cockroach. Bones fractured, blood flowed, but he refused to stay down.
Behind him, the Mist Lord watched in disbelief.
"Why… why are you doing this?"
"Because you feel familiar to me, like family," Feng Qi replied, his voice trembling yet resolute.
The Mist Lord stared at him, his guarded heart softening as a flicker of warmth entered his gaze.
During their time together, Feng Qi had steadily earned the Mist Lord's trust.
Seeing Feng Qi risk his life for him erased the last traces of doubt in the Mist Lord's mind.
Feng Qi's battered form reminded him of his own kin, those who had sacrificed themselves without hesitation to carve a path forward.
Clenching his fists, the Mist Lord muttered under his breath, "I refuse to give up!"
The force of his conviction awakened a latent, mysterious power within him. His injuries began to heal rapidly under the influence of this unknown energy.
Just as when his life essence had shattered, the healing was almost miraculous.
Within moments, half of his injuries were restored, and dense mist poured from his body.
He reached out and grabbed Feng Qi, who was on the brink of death, pulling him into the mist.
The essence of his life force flowed into Feng Qi, sustaining him and beginning to heal his battered body.
The Mist Lord's violet-glowing eyes turned toward the old man.
"You will die, and your people won't escape either."
"You're welcome to try," the old man replied, raising his dragon-patterned sword once more.
In the raging snowstorm, the clash of sword qi and mist created a vacuum in the surrounding air.
Despite his frail body, the old man's fighting spirit burned fiercely.
His swordsmanship differed from that of Lü Yue's unyielding, aggressive style.
If Lü Yue's sword intent symbolized the relentless charge of youth, the old man's technique resembled a candle in the wind—flickering yet steadfast, unmoving in the face of the storm.
As the old man unleashed his sword techniques, it resembled an ancient dance, exuding an air of natural harmony.
At that moment, it felt as though the old man had merged with the world around him, borrowing the power of the heavens and earth to fuel his strikes.
The Mist Lord wasn't just fighting the old man—he was battling the very forces of nature.
The Mist Lord's strength was overwhelming, but in front of the old man, it couldn't fully show its potential. The old man's skill and power were something the Mist Lord couldn't match.
This fight taught the Mist Lord just how terrifyingly strong humans could be. Even though the old man was aged and frail, his might still crushed him.
But as the fight dragged on, the old man began to falter. His sword strikes slowed, his breaths became labored, and the Mist Lord started gaining the upper hand.
When the mist brushed past the old man, he stumbled to the ground.
Slowly, he got back up, ripping off his shredded clothes, revealing a body covered with scars—proof of countless battles.
Behind him stood the people he'd protected for over two hundred years. He had never fallen before and wasn't planning to today.
Shou Yi's eyes were calm, showing neither joy nor sadness. With great effort, he raised his dragon-patterned greatsword once more.
"I'll spare you, but only if your people die in exchange for your life," the Mist Lord rasped, his voice low and rough.
These were the same words he had once said to Mu Qing. Mu Qing answered with her fists. Shou Yi now gave his reply with his sword.
As sword qi surged forward, the mist rushed to meet it.
The two forces clashed and deadlocked. The sword qi couldn't cut through the mist, and the mist couldn't push back the sword qi.
Sweat and blood streamed down the old man's body, but he didn't stop.
With a loud roar, his white hair fluttered as his determination pushed the sword qi forward, cutting through the mist bit by bit.
Sensing danger, the Mist Lord went all out. The gray mist thickened, swirling with his life force, sweeping everything in its path.
The surrounding snow turned into a violent storm of energy. The village warriors, desperate to help, found themselves unable to even approach the battle.
But despite everything, the sword qi continued pressing forward. It got closer and closer to the center of the mist, where the Mist Lord's core was hidden.
Though old and weak, Shou Yi's swordsmanship was unmatched.
The Mist Lord let out a primal scream, but no matter how wild the mist became, it couldn't stop the advancing sword qi.
Shou Yi gripped his sword tightly, pressing down with all his strength.
It seemed as if he had become one with the world around him. His sword intent, fueled by his unshakable resolve, grew sharper and sharper.
But his body was at its limit. Blood poured out of him, covering him completely.
Just as the Mist Lord thought the sword qi would pierce his core and kill him, it suddenly disappeared.
Stunned, he looked up.
Shou Yi stood there, sword in hand, but he was no longer breathing.
Seeing him fall, the scavenger warriors cried out in grief.
For them, Shou Yi wasn't just a protector—he was a hero. They had grown up hearing his stories. He was their hope, their pride.
But now, the hero had finally succumbed to age and time.
In his youth, Shou Yi had defended the northern lands, leading the people of Extreme City to carve a path through domain fields to the Winterfell Frontline.
He had killed countless domain creatures, never once losing a fight.
His feats were legendary, his achievements glorious.
He had trained countless warriors, many of whom were now renowned fighters on the frontlines.
His most famous moment came during the Infernal Domain Field crisis. Alone, he had entered the field, slain the eight-armed demon that ruled it, and stopped its expansion.
Back then, the Infernal Domain Field was at its most dangerous. But Shou Yi had stood tall, sword in hand, forcing the field to retreat.
Even legends, however, cannot escape the ravages of time.
No one can resist the toll of aging and the end of life.
Shou Yi, holding his dragon-patterned sword, fought valiantly to the very end. But his strength was no longer what it used to be.
Though his heart burned with the will to fight, his body had reached its limit.
In his final battle, he came close to killing the Mist Lord. But he fell, leaving behind regrets as the cries of his people echoed around him. His figure crumbled in the cold wind.
A legendary era had ended.
Humanity's battle against the domain fields had always been this way.
Each generation had its own heroes—warriors who rose to the peak, carving their stories into history.
Even the domain beings, who saw humans as insignificant, couldn't ignore these legends.
But each age belonged to its heroes.
Shou Yi's time had passed.
Amid the grieving cries of his people, his legacy was buried beneath the falling snow.
The warriors of the village charged at the Mist Lord, their eyes filled with rage and sorrow.
But he was unmoved. There was no mercy in his heart.
The gray mist surged forward, snuffing out lives and drawing the blood essence from their bodies.
Life felt so fragile in that moment.
Without Shou Yi, the scavengers stood no chance.
The village's strongest warriors were already at the frontlines. What remained were no match for the Mist Lord.
In less than half an hour, the village was silent, wiped out entirely.
The Mist Lord pulled back his mist, condensing it into a single, pure blood pearl.
With a wave of his hand, the pearl merged into Feng Qi's body, suspended in the air.
The essence coursed through him, healing his injuries. Slowly, Feng Qi opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw were the lifeless bodies of the villagers scattered across the blood-stained snow.
His heart ached, but he didn't let it show.
"Thank you," he said quietly, looking at the Mist Lord.
"If I stand at the top of this world one day, there will always be a place for you by my side," the Mist Lord replied, his violet eyes gleaming as he smiled.
The smile, set against the backdrop of death and blood, was a chilling and haunting image.
The journey to Winterfell City continued.
Watching the Mist Lord remain calm after slaughtering nearly a thousand people, Feng Qi felt an urge to ask: "What does it feel like to kill humans?" But those words never left his mouth.
He kept reminding himself that he couldn't be soft-hearted. This path required cruelty and ruthlessness, a complete integration into the mindset of the domain forces. But now that he had experienced the cruelty firsthand, he realized how much it clashed with his principles.
Taking a deep breath, he suppressed his discomfort and turned to ask the Mist Lord:
"What is our world really like?"
Knowing Feng Qi had lost his memories, the Mist Lord patiently explained:
"Our world is divided into countless small spaces, each a separate micro-world interconnected with others. Your people, my people—we all live in our respective small worlds. When we descend into this world, it creates domain fields because our arrival brings along parts of our original world."
Hearing this, Feng Qi continued:
"Then why did you come to this world?"
"Our world had problems. I noticed powerful races were spending enormous resources to move their entire populations here. That's when I realized something was wrong. I followed their example, opening a path to this world to secure a future for my people and to find opportunities for growth."
"So, our original world is also facing a great catastrophe?" Feng Qi asked, picking up on a crucial detail.
"Yes, one even worse than what's happening here. That's why so many races come seeking survival and opportunity."
"Some chose to create pathways, while others simply abandoned their original world to descend directly."
This revelation made Feng Qi's heart sink.
He thought of Xiao Can's people. Their arrival was different. They descended without forming a domain field, which must be what the Mist Lord described as abandoning their world.
By contrast, the Mist Lord's arrival had created the Silent Domain Field, clearly an example of pathway creation.
Feng Qi asked again:
"What's the difference between the two methods?"
"The difference is enormous. Direct descent might kill you instantly upon arrival because the rules of our world and this world are very different.
"Even if you survive, there are many restrictions, and your strength would be severely weakened."
"As for creating a pathway, it involves bringing part of your original world—your domain field—into this one.
"This method is the hardest but offers many benefits. Once the domain field fully merges with this world, you won't be restricted by its rules. That's why creatures in long-existing domain fields become what humans call domain transcendents."
The explanation clarified things for Feng Qi.
"What exactly does 'creating a pathway' mean?" he asked.
"It's the most difficult way to descend. You must break through the barriers between worlds and bring your world here. If you're lucky, you'll succeed, but if not, you'll encounter roadblockers."
"What are roadblockers?"
"They're extraordinarily powerful beings who guard the path to this world. Encountering them almost guarantees death."
The Mist Lord's gaze darkened.
"When I led my people to break through the barriers and create a new pathway, we encountered roadblockers. My people died protecting me so I could reach this world."
"After arriving, I swore to revive them. That's why I need so much blood essence. Only then can I reconstruct their bodies and bring their souls back."
Feng Qi immediately thought of the ghostly figures within the mist. They were likely the spirits of the Mist Lord's fallen people.
Still, he couldn't help but wonder more about these "roadblockers."
Could they be the strongest humans? After their disappearance, had they gone to the source of the world to block domain forces from entering?
These thoughts swirled in his mind, but he couldn't make sense of them. Eventually, he let it go.
For now, he decided to follow the Mist Lord and help build a domain force.
Through this, he hoped to uncover the truth about the world.
The journey ahead would undoubtedly be harsh. He knew he needed to adjust his mindset.
Being overly sentimental would only hinder him.
If he couldn't embrace this sacrificial path, he wouldn't fulfill his mission or create any value.
So, he had to harden his heart.
More situations like today's were bound to arise.
Today it was Shou Yi. Next time, it might be someone else—a hero or a figure he once admired.
He might have to kill people he respected or do things that went against his values.
If joining the research institute timeline meant descending into darkness, then this villainous path was about becoming a demon—viewing humanity purely as ants or livestock.
But he had to walk this road.
Only by becoming indistinguishable from domain creatures could he witness the truths that remained hidden.
With these thoughts, he turned to look at the Mist Lord.
One thing was clear: the Mist Lord already considered him an ally. Otherwise, he wouldn't have used precious blood essence to heal him.
But Feng Qi felt no emotion toward him.
He only intended to use the Mist Lord, leveraging his growth to gather more intelligence.
If the Mist Lord ever became useless, Feng Qi would have no hesitation in eliminating him. He wouldn't give him any chance to grow further.
The Mist Lord glanced back and grinned:
"How's your recovery?"
Feng Qi returned the smile.
"Much better now. Thanks."
After a moment of thought, he added:
"Mist, if I ever find my people, I'll ally with you and work together to shape the future."
"Deal," the Mist Lord replied, his grin widening.
Amid the biting cold winds, they each harbored their own thoughts as they continued on their journey.