The heavy, lingering morning mist clinging to the sheer granite cliffs of the Inner Sect carried a sharp, damp, and biting chill as Railin stepped out from the deep subterranean passages of the Ice Mystic Peak. The morning sun hung in the distant sky like a pale, icy disc over the jagged eastern mountain ridge, casting long, ink-black shadows across the carved stone bridges, towering pillars, and quiet mountain pathways.
Railin walked with quiet, rhythmic, and completely unhurried precision. His dark navy-blue robes, immaculate and unsoiled from his days of intense subterranean refinement, rustled softly against his dark boots with every step he took. To any casual onlooker passing by, he appeared entirely unbothered—perhaps even casually leisurely—as he smoothly navigated the winding stone pathways leading down toward the central Grand Plaza. Yet beneath his smooth, youthful skin and perfectly relaxed posture, his lower dantian spun with a dense, bottomless, and volatile void-pressure. Simultaneously, his upper dantian hummed with the razor-sharp readiness of three fully condensed, lethal Soul-Piercing Needles.
His spiritual sense, which had now expanded to cover a vast, uninterrupted two-hundred-pace radius, swept over the surrounding mountain terrain like an invisible, inescapable net. Every gentle rustle of pine needles in the wind, every whispered, secretive exchange between passing inner disciples, and every subtle shift in the ambient spiritual energy was instantly parsed, processed, and cataloged inside his vast mind.
He did not need to ask for directions or guess where his high-risk, mandatory assignment awaited him. The natural flow of foot traffic and the quiet, expectant whispers floating through the air among the inner disciples pointed directly toward the primary, looming hall of the Outer Affairs Council—a monolithic, black-stone fortress situated on the lower terrace of the central peak, directly below the grand Mission Hall.
As Railin approached the wide, white-marble plaza fronting the Outer Affairs Council, the quiet atmosphere around the courtyard shifted dramatically. Disciples dressed in various colored robes drew back instinctively, clearing a broad, open path for him. Their eyes were an intense mixture of morbid curiosity, quiet apprehension, deep suspicion, and suppressed glee.
"Look... over there... he actually showed up," a Sword Peak disciple muttered under his breath, leaning over to nudge his companion's arm. "I honestly thought he would stay hidden inside the Ice Mystic Peak's cold chambers until the Grand Inner Sect Assembly officially began."
"Hidden? You clearly don't understand the kind of lunatic Railin is," his companion whispered back, his voice tight with anxiety. "He brutally crippled Feng Wushuang right on the execution stage and drained his spirit sea dry in front of Grand Elder Feng! Do you honestly think a mandatory mission scares someone like him?"
"It definitely should scare him," another disciple chimed in, wearing the crescent-moon crest of the Shadow Moon Peak prominently on his sleeve. "Senior Elder Xiang from the Outer Affairs Council signed the decree personally this morning. It's a high-risk borderland investigation mission directly near the infamous Ghost-Fog Valley. Everyone knows that entire region has been crawling with rogue cultivators, blood demons, and dark-market shadow assassins lately. Once his boots step outside the academy's protective grand array, he's as good as dead."
Railin completely ignored the hushed, nervous murmurings around him, his pitch-black, bottomless eyes remaining fixed on the massive ironwood doors of the Outer Affairs Council. He mounted the thirty-three steep granite steps leading to the main entrance, his boots coming down with a measured, heavy cadence that seemed to quiet the surrounding noise by the sheer, invisible force of his presence.
The interior of the Outer Affairs Council was vast, dim, and hollowly echoing. High, arched ceilings carved from dark granite were suspended high over dozens of heavy ironwood desks where senior clerks and lower stewards processed mission logs, borderland activity reports, and disciple quotas. The ambient air smelled heavily of ancient parchment, metallic ink, and the faint, bitter scent of spirit-suppression incense burning in brass censers.
At the far end of the vast main hall, seated behind a grand desk carved from a single, massive block of dark iron-stone, sat a middle-aged man possessing sharp, rat-like eyes and thin, tightly pursed lips. He wore the formal, silver-embroidered purple-and-gold robes of a Senior Outer Affairs Elder.
Elder Xiang.
A loyal, long-time retainer of the Shadow Moon faction and a silent, profitable partner in many of Hao-Lin and Shu-Lin's private external ventures, Elder Xiang had spent the past forty-eight hours carefully orchestrating a flawless, legally binding snare that would force Railin into the open—far beyond the protective boundaries of the academy's ancient defense arrays.
Standing directly beside Elder Xiang's heavy desk were two tall, broad-shouldered disciples clad in the dark blue robes of the Shadow Moon Peak's specialized enforcement squad. Their eyes were cold, arrogant, and fixed entirely on Railin as he strode calmly down the central aisle of the hall.
"Disciple Railin," Elder Xiang spoke first, his scratchy, dry voice echoing off the vaulted stone ceiling like grinding millstones. He did not even bother to look up from the official parchment scroll he was marking until Railin came to a complete halt ten paces from his desk. "You have certainly taken your sweet time arriving here today. The Outer Affairs Council does not particularly enjoy waiting on greenhorn Foundation disciples."
Railin stood perfectly straight, his hands casually tucked inside his wide navy sleeves, his face entirely devoid of human emotion. "I was informed there is a mandatory, time-sensitive assignment bearing my name."
Elder Xiang set his ink brush down with a slow, deliberate, and heavy click. He picked up a deep-red scroll securely sealed with thick black wax and held it out, his small, sharp eyes glinting with an unmistakable, malicious light.
"Indeed there is," Elder Xiang said smoothly, his scratchy voice laced with administrative authority. "According to the Sun-Moon Academy's internal regulation bylaws, Section Four, Article Nine: Any newly ascended inner disciple who achieves the Foundation Establishment realm outside the tri-annual formal trials must complete a mandatory external borderland enforcement task within seven days of core consolidation. This is to ensure that your newly gained power is genuinely dedicated to the long-term safety and prestige of our academy."
Railin did not immediately reach out to take the scroll. He merely eyed the thick black wax seal neutrally. "And what, precisely, does this task entail?"
Elder Xiang smirked slightly, a subtle, mock-regretful glint flashing within his narrow eyes. "Three days ago, an outer sect supply convoy traveling through the Ghost-Fog Valley border zone was brutally ambushed and wiped out. The unknown attackers left behind heavy traces of dark, blood-corrupted qi. As a newly ascended Foundation master, you are officially tasked with leading a three-man reconnaissance team directly into the ambush site, clearing out any remaining rogue elements, and retrieving the stolen shipment of spirit-granite."
Railin's lips twitched upward into a faint, barely visible, dark arc.
Ghost-Fog Valley.
It was an infamous, desolate, and notorious region situated nearly three hundred miles south of the academy mountain range. The valley was perpetually shrouded in a dense, naturally occurring spiritual mist that heavily distorted soul sense, blinded normal vision, and completely suppressed long-range communication talismans. It was the absolute ideal location for a cold-blooded assassination—a place where a young, rising genius could disappear into thin air without leaving a single clue, trace, or corpse behind.
"A three-man team," Railin repeated smoothly, his tone flat and analytical. "And who, pray tell, are my esteemed teammates assigned to guide me on this dangerous reconnaissance?"
Elder Xiang gestured smoothly toward the two broad-shouldered enforcement disciples standing like towers beside his iron-stone desk.
"Senior Disciple Gao Feng and Senior Disciple Gao Lei," Elder Xiang introduced them, his tone dripping with fake administrative formality. "Both are Stage Two Foundation Establishment veterans originating from the Shadow Moon Peak. They possess extensive, long-term experience in borderland patrols and have generously volunteered their time to guide and protect you on this dangerous assignment."
The two disciples, twin brothers possessing broad, scarred faces and identical dark, cruel smiles, stepped forward in unison. Gao Feng, the elder twin, smirked openly at Railin, his gaze lingering on Railin's navy robes as if he were already eyeing a wrapped corpse.
"Do not worry yourself in the slightest, Junior Brother Railin," Gao Feng spoke up, his voice deep, raspy, and mocking. "We will take exceptionally good care of you once we step inside the borders of the Ghost-Fog Valley. We will personally ensure you learn exactly how dangerous and unforgiving the world outside the academy grounds truly is."
Gao Lei chuckled softly beside his brother, loudly cracking his thick, heavy knuckles with a series of sharp, popping sounds. "Indeed. The natural mist in that valley can be quite lethal to young, reckless geniuses who don't know their proper place in the hierarchy."
The legal trap was so blatantly transparent, so crudely executed, that it was almost laughable. Hao-Lin and Shu-Lin had not even bothered to subtly hide their hand in this scheme. They had used Elder Xiang's position to issue an official, legally unassailable command, assigned two of their own loyal Stage Two Foundation thugs as 'teammates' to monitor and block Railin's retreat, and chosen a distant battleground where external intervention from rival elders would be physically impossible.
Any ordinary disciple placed in such a terrifying, hopeless situation would be frantic—searching desperately for legal loopholes, petitioning higher grand elders, or begging for immediate protection from rival factions like the Ice Mystic Peak.
Railin, however, merely looked at the twin brothers, his dark, bottomless pupils reflecting their mocking faces without a single ripple of shock, fear, or anger. In fact, deep within his lower dantian, his newly consolidated void core gave a subtle, hungry, and predatory pulse.
Two Stage Two Foundation Establishment cultivators... and an isolated, desolate valley shrouded in communications-blocking mist.
To Shu-Lin and Hao-Lin, the Ghost-Fog Valley was a carefully constructed slaughterhouse built to quietly execute Railin. To Railin, it was an all-you-can-eat buffet delivered directly to his lap without the annoying, watchful eyes of academy overseers or grand elders!
"When do we depart?" Railin asked calmly, casually reaching out his pale hand and taking the red scroll directly from Elder Xiang's desk.
Elder Xiang blinked in genuine surprise, slightly taken aback by Railin's complete lack of hesitation, fear, or vocal protest. He had fully prepared a long, rehearsed speech detailing the severe legal penalties for refusing a council decree—penalties that included immediate stripping of inner core status and lifetime imprisonment—yet Railin had accepted the death scroll as casually as if he were picking up a simple dinner invitation.
"You... you depart immediately," Elder Xiang stammered slightly, quickly regaining his stern, authoritative composure. "The official mission carriage is already prepped and waiting at the Southern Transport Arch. You have exactly five days to complete the task and report back to this hall."
"Understood," Railin said flatly. He turned cleanly on his heel without offering a single bow or formal word of respect, his navy robes sweeping through the dim air as he walked directly toward the grand exit doors.
Gao Feng and Gao Lei exchanged a swift, dark, and triumphant look with Elder Xiang before quickly falling in step directly behind Railin, sandwiching him between their massive frames like a prisoner being formally escorted to the executioner's block.
The Southern Transport Arch was a massive, stone-paved plaza situated at the lowest outer lip of the mountain fortress, where high-grade spirit-beast carriages and flying mounts were prepped for official academy travel.
A heavy, reinforced iron carriage pulled by two massive, four-horned Scale-Iron Bulls stood waiting near the edge of the steep descent path. The driver, an old man with his wide bamboo hat pulled exceptionally low over his eyes, sat entirely motionless on the wooden front bench, holding the thick leather reins in his calloused hands.
Railin walked straight toward the dark carriage, his spiritual sense casually sweeping over the driver, the spirit beasts, and the surrounding cliff walls. As his hand reached out toward the iron carriage door, a sudden, cold gust of mountain wind swept down from the high peaks above, bringing with it the distinct, familiar scent of fresh snow and icy plum blossoms.
SWISH.
A slender, exceptionally graceful figure clad in snow-white silk robes descended silently from the upper mountain walkways, landing without a sound on the stone pavement ten paces away.
Rusunam Rusu.
Her long, jet-black hair fluttered wildly in the cold mountain breeze, her piercing azure eyes locked firmly onto Railin's impassive face. She completely ignored the surprised looks from the surrounding stable hands and stepped forward, her frost-covered sleeves fluttering gently in the wind.
"Railin," Rusu called out, her clear, ringing voice carrying a sharp chill.
Railin paused with his fingers resting on the iron carriage door, turning his head to look back over his shoulder. "Senior Sister Rusu. Have you personally come all the way down here to wish me a safe journey?"
Rusu walked directly up to him, stopping just outside the physical reach of Gao Feng and Gao Lei. She cast a sharp, utterly contemptuous glance at the two Shadow Moon enforcement disciples, who instinctively stiffened under the intense, terrifying pressure radiating from an Ice Mystic Peak direct disciple.
"Do not play the fool with me, Railin," Rusu said in a low, sharp whisper, her voice carefully wrapped in a private spiritual sound transmission that only Railin could hear inside his mind. "My master was just officially informed of Elder Xiang's decree. This is an explicit, direct trap set up by Shu-Lin and the Shadow Moon faction! They know my master offered you high-tier sanctuary three days ago, so they moved with extreme speed to cut off your options before you could formally enter our peak's register!"
"I am well aware of their intentions," Railin replied smoothly through his own sound transmission, his tone flat, calm, and entirely unbothered.
"Then why in the world are you getting into that carriage?!" Rusu's voice carried a rare, fiercely controlled edge of deep frustration. "If you step into the Ghost-Fog Valley, you will not merely face these two brainless dogs standing beside you! My personal intelligence networks indicate that at least two Stage Three dark-market shadow assassins have already crossed the outer border into the valley. They are actively waiting to ambush you!"
Railin turned his full body around to face her, his dark, bottomless pupils meeting her intense azure gaze. The cold, unyielding, and absolute silence radiating from his frame was so heavy that even Rusu felt a subtle, involuntary chill touch the deep recesses of her soul.
"Senior Sister Rusu," Railin spoke out loud, his clear voice smooth and natural, completely abandoning the private spiritual transmission line. "You worry far too much about the unpredictable weather."
"What?" Rusu frowned deeply, her dark eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
"The natural fog in the valley may indeed be thick and dangerous," Railin continued softly, his pale lips curving into a cold, dark, and terribly sinister smile that made the fine hair on Gao Feng's neck stand up in instinctual dread. "But fog is merely water in another physical form. And water... is easily swallowed by the absolute dark."
Before Rusu could fully process his cryptic, dangerous words, Railin turned around, pulled open the heavy iron carriage door, and stepped inside the cabin without the slightest shred of hesitation.
Gao Feng and Gao Lei snapped out of their brief, instinctual stupor, quickly scrambling up the wooden carriage steps and boarding right after him, slamming the thick iron door shut behind them with a loud, echoing metallic bang.
HYAH!
The hidden driver whipped the heavy leather reins, and the two massive Scale-Iron Bulls let out low, rumbling roars. The heavy iron carriage lurched forward violently, its rune-engraved iron wheels grinding loudly against the granite pavement as it began its rapid, steep descent down the long, winding mountain road leading entirely away from the Sun-Moon Academy.
Rusu stood completely alone on the vast stone plaza, her azure eyes watching the dark carriage gradually disappear into the winding mountain trails below. Her white silk sleeves fluttered in the freezing wind, her pale hand reaching up to lightly touch the silver key-talisman resting inside her pocket.
"A genuine monster..." she whispered softly to the empty mountain air, her eyes filled with a complex, swirling mixture of anger, intense intrigue, and faint apprehension. "He isn't naively walking into a trap. He's stepping directly into a hunting ground... and he genuinely believes he is the apex predator."
Inside the dimly lit iron carriage, the ambient air was thick, suffocating, and deeply claustrophobic. The interior walls were heavily lined with sound-dampening dark velvet and reinforced iron plates, completely isolating the inner cabin from the outside world.
Railin sat comfortably on the dark leather bench on the left side, his legs crossed in a relaxed meditative posture and his hands resting calmly on his knees. His pitch-black eyes were half-closed, appearing to the casual observer as if he were entering a quiet state of deep rest.
Seated directly across from him were Gao Feng and Gao Lei. The twin brothers were leaning back against the plush cushions, their arms crossed tightly over their broad chests, their cold eyes fixed onto Railin like hungry hawks observing a trapped mouse.
For the first two full hours of the long journey, not a single person inside the cabin uttered a word. The only sound echoing through the space was the steady, rhythmic clatter of the iron wheels striking the rough mountain stones and the soft, heavy breathing of the twin brothers.
As the heavy carriage officially passed the outer perimeter boundary marker of the Sun-Moon Academy—a massive, ancient glowing array pillar set deep into the cliffside—a sudden, subtle shift occurred in the air pressure inside the cabin.
The subtle, protective pulse of the academy's grand defense array completely vanished, replaced entirely by the wild, unrefined, and chaotic spiritual energy of the untamed wilderness outside.
Gao Feng's dark eyes flashed with an immediate, cruel, and sinister light. He slowly uncrossed his broad arms, leaning forward slightly as his right hand drifted toward the polished hilt of the broadsword strapped firmly to his waist.
"Junior Brother Railin," Gao Feng spoke first, his deep voice dropping into a low, mocking rascality. "We have officially crossed the outer boundary of the academy grounds. The strict rules and regulations of the inner sector... no longer apply out here in the wild."
Gao Lei grinned widely beside him, revealing a set of slightly yellowed, crooked teeth. He reached into his deep robes and produced a small, black wooden token etched with a faintly glowing crimson rune—a short-range signal talisman designed to alert hidden, waiting units.
"It really is a tragic pity," Gao Lei sneered openly, tossing the black wooden token lightly in his palm. "You possessed such incredible, frightening talent. Brutally crippling Feng Wushuang, achieving Foundation Establishment right on the execution stage... you could have easily become a grand elder in fifty years. But you were far too foolish, far too arrogant. You had to go and cross Senior Sister Shu-Lin and Senior Brother Hao-Lin."
Railin did not even bother to open his eyes. His breathing remained deep, slow, and completely rhythmic, as if he were enjoying a quiet, peaceful afternoon rest inside Spirit Abode 409.
"Is that so?" Railin asked softly, his tone completely flat and unbothered.
"Do you honestly think we are joking around with you?!" Gao Feng snapped violently, his limited patience wearing thin at Railin's infuriating, unshakeable composure. He aggressively drew his broadsword three inches out of its scabbard, the cold steel gleaming with a sharp, heavy yellow earth-attribute qi. "The exact second this carriage reaches the outer entrance of the Ghost-Fog Valley, you will be handed over to the waiting shadow assassins! But before that... Senior Brother Hao-Lin specifically instructed us to break both your legs and shatter your lower dantian so you can't attempt to run away!"
Gao Lei raised his left hand, his fingers gathering a thick, dark, and restrictive cloud of Shadow Moon qi. "Don't worry too much, Junior Brother. We will leave you breathing just long enough to see the faces of the dark market assassins who come to sever your head!"
Slowly, effortlessly, Railin opened his dark eyes.
There was not a single shred of fear in his pitch-black pupils. There was no anxiety, no panic, and no desperate pleading for mercy. Instead, his eyes were completely, abyssally black—shimmering with a cold, terrifyingly predatory hunger that caused both Gao Feng and Gao Lei to instantly freeze mid-breath.
"You speak far too much," Railin said softly.
Before either of the Stage Two twin brothers could process his words or activate their qi, a terrifying, invisible wave of spiritual pressure erupted violently from Railin's forehead like a localized, silent explosion!
HUMMM—!
The air inside the cramped carriage locked up completely.
Two dark, razor-sharp needles forged from concentrated, three-hundred-year-old soul power materialized invisibly in the thin air, vibrating with a lethal, silent frequency.
First Soul-Piercing Needle!
Second Soul-Piercing Needle!
SHOOSH! SHOOSH!
The invisible soul needles shot forward with mind-boggling, lightning-fast speed, piercing directly through the foreheads of Gao Feng and Gao Lei before either Stage Two Foundation master could even react or raise their defensive qi shields!
"AHHH—!"
"MY SOUL—!"
Simultaneous, blood-curdling screams of pure, unimaginable agony erupted from the twin brothers as their upper dantians—their very soul seas—were violently pierced, torn apart, and shattered by the dark, icy soul needles!
Gao Feng's broadsword slipped completely from his numb fingers, clattering loudly against the wooden floorboards. Gao Lei collapsed sideways against the velvet wall, his hands clawing wildly at his skull as black blood began to stream freely from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.
Railin did not even move an inch from his seat. He slowly raised his pale right hand, his fingers opening smoothly like a blooming, dark void lotus.
The Ashen Devouring Technique!
BOOM!
A thick, pitch-black void aura erupted violently from his open palm, instantly wrapping around the writhing, agonizing bodies of the twin brothers. The volatile, dark void qi surged directly into their open meridians, forcibly locking their dantians and extracting their Stage Two Foundation spirit essence in thick, glowing streams of raw, concentrated spiritual power!
"Railin... you... you unnatural monster...!" Gao Feng choked out through a mouthful of black blood, his wide eyes filled with pure, unadulterated horror as he felt his life force and lifetime cultivation rapidly draining away into the dark abyss before him. "Senior Sister Shu-Lin... will... will tear you into a thousand pieces...!"
"She is more than welcome to try," Railin whispered ice-coldly, his dark eyes reflecting the fading light in the twin brothers' dying pupils. "Her turn will come soon enough."
Within less than sixty seconds, the horrifying screams inside the heavy iron carriage completely died down, replaced by a quiet, eerie, and heavy silence.
Two withered, completely dried-up husks sat collapsed against the plush velvet seats, entirely devoid of spirit essence, life force, or soul activity. Their Stage Two Foundation cores had been entirely devoured, refined, and funneled straight into Railin's lower dantian, instantly strengthening his foundation core by a solid fifteen percent in a matter of moments!
Railin closed his hand, retracting the dark void aura smoothly back into his skin. He calmly dusted off his dark navy sleeves, meticulously adjusting his collar with absolute precision.
Outside, the heavy iron wheels of the carriage continued to clatter steadily against the rough stone road, carrying him deeper and deeper into the dark, mist-shrouded wilderness toward the Ghost-Fog Valley.
Railin leaned back against his leather seat, his pitch-black eyes glinting in the dim cabin light.
"One step at a time," he murmured softly to himself, closing his eyes once more as he smoothly began digesting the newly acquired spirit essence. "The feast has only just begun.
See you in next chapter...