The old man appeared once again before Ishan, holding two orbs of light—one glowing white, the other pulsing violet.The moment Ishan's eyes fell upon them, a shiver ran down his spine. Those orbs… they looked terrifyingly familiar.
He swallowed hard."Master… those aren't someone's memories again, are they?"
The old man chuckled. "You're sharper than I expected." His laughter echoed softly in the void.
That laughter made Ishan uneasy. The memory of his last soul-merging agony was still too fresh.He scowled faintly. "Do you enjoy watching your new disciple suffer, Master?"
Abhay laughed again, the spectral light in his body flickering with amusement."Don't worry. This won't hurt as much as before. You've already tasted pain once—your soul now knows how to endure it."
Ishan exhaled shakily and muttered to himself, "Does he truly see me as a disciple or a test subject?"
Abhay's expression turned serious."If you wish to avoid the pain, you can stay here and learn from me the slow way. But that would take years—decades, perhaps—and you'd spend all of them staring at this old man's face."He smirked faintly."However, if you bear the pain now, you'll inherit everything I know—my knowledge, my experience, my techniques. The choice is yours."
The air thickened with silence.Ishan looked down, lost in thought. Staying here meant safety—but stagnation.Facing the pain meant power—but risk.Finally, he lifted his head, took a deep breath, and said softly, "Master… how do you always know what's in my heart?"
The old man smiled faintly. "That's not mind reading, my boy. That's experience—the kind forged through a million lifetimes."
Ishan chuckled nervously and nodded. Then, with reluctant resolve, he knelt before his master and extended his hands, ready to receive the orbs.
A hum filled the air as Abhay released them. The two glowing spheres floated toward Ishan—then exploded into a thousand shards of light that pierced into his chest.
The chamber shook.A blinding pain erupted in Ishan's body. His veins burned like molten silver. His bones felt as though they were cracking and reforming all at once.
He screamed.
"Aaaahhhhhh!"
His voice echoed through the cavern like thunder.But Abhay's calm voice cut through the chaos:
"Is that all the strength you have? You call yourself a cultivator? Stand tall, Ishan!"
"You can't give up yet! Remember—you still have to return to your world!"
"Just a little longer! Don't disgrace your master!"
Through gasping breaths, Ishan roared back, "I'm just a child before you, Master!"
The old man laughed faintly. "Then grow up in the fire, boy!"
And so the agony continued—six hours of relentless torment, his screams mixing with the old man's cold commands.When it finally ended, two days had passed.
When Ishan opened his eyes again, he felt different—stronger, heavier with knowledge that wasn't his before.His mind now held vast new memories—ancient symbols, intricate alchemy circles, and techniques that bent the laws of nature. He saw flashes of battles, of martial forms, of blood and thunder.
Among all the knowledge that flooded him, two techniques stood out—chosen personally by his master.
Body Strengthening Technique
Deceptively simple in name, yet divine in origin. A lost art that once forged gods.Those who mastered it could withstand any blow without armor—their bodies as unbreakable as mountains. A single punch could shatter worlds.But its cultivation required rare resources and potent alchemic pills—each step an ordeal.
Nine Star Gathering Technique
A method that formed nine shining stars within the energy circle at the navel.These stars magnified cultivation speed exponentially, drawing cosmic energy into the body.With every star formed, the cultivator's potential climbed beyond mortal limits.
For Soul Cultivation, his master instructed him to temper his spirit through alchemy and creation—each act sharpening his soul like a blade.
And so, after fifteen long days of training and enlightenment, Ishan was finally ready to step into the world.
He looked up at the sky—a dark ocean scattered with countless stars—and whispered,
"Let's begin, Ishan. A new world… a new journey."
He bowed before the memory of his master, then stepped out of the mystical cavern.
In those fifteen days, he had learned alchemy, formations, and the fundamentals of this world's laws.His master had revealed the truth: they were in a place known as The Abyss of Death—a vast pit cutting through the center of the Dark Forest, dividing it into two halves.
It was here that Ishan's predecessor had fallen—chased by his treacherous uncle's men.To escape, he had leapt into this endless void.
Now, he had to climb out.
Above the Abyss lay the Grand Marcrum Empire, one of the five great dominions of the Eastern Martial Continent.The empire ruled over eighteen great cities and countless villages. The Singh Family, Ishan's lineage, resided in one of its thirteen smaller cities—Lightning City—named after the colossal Lightning Dragon that had descended there a hundred thousand years ago.
When Ishan emerged from the cave, he found himself halfway down the sheer cliffside of the Abyss.He looked up—clouds swirled like ghosts, miles above.He looked down—only darkness stared back.There was only one way out: up.
He checked his body—his cultivation had reached the fifth level of Body Tempering. Power surged through his limbs like liquid flame.Without hesitation, he began to climb.
Days passed. The chasm was deeper than he had imagined—twelve, maybe fifteen kilometers.Every rock was jagged, every breath a challenge. But Ishan had faced worse.He climbed with a steady rhythm, his body moving like a beast's—fluid, precise, relentless.He trained while climbing, striking the air, balancing on narrow ledges, using every movement to refine his strength.
He ate from the fruits and dried meat stored within his Spatial Ring—a gift from his master.The isolation, the danger, the endless walls of stone—he embraced them all.
By the seventh day, the clouds he once saw far above were within reach. His body was battered, his clothes torn and bloodstained, but his spirit blazed fiercer than ever.He had now reached the seventh level of Body Tempering.
And somewhere above the clouds… destiny stirred.
Elsewhere
A dense forest stretched endlessly under a misty sky.A caravan rolled along a dirt path—armored wagons, horsemen with swords on their backs, and a single ornate carriage drawn by two snow-white stallions.
Emblazoned on their armor were the words:"Cloud Piercing Sect."
At the lead rode two mounted warriors. Their eyes scanned the forest like hawks.Suddenly, one of them raised his hand—a silent signal.
The entire caravan halted instantly. The horses neighed, armor clinked, and whispers died.Those who hadn't been paying attention stumbled into the ones ahead, but quickly regained order, gripping their spears tightly.
From the carriage, a soft, melodic voice called out,
"Protector Uncle, what's wrong? Why have we stopped?"
The leading horseman's gaze hardened.
"Young Miss… something's wrong. The forest feels… hungry."
Even as he spoke, the air split with a hiss—Arrows!A storm of them rained from above.
"Defensive formation!"Both riders slammed their palms together, forming intricate seals.Golden energy surged outward, weaving into a shimmering barrier that covered the entire caravan. The arrows struck it and shattered like glass, their tips sparking harmlessly across the invisible shield.
That glow—Vital Energy, condensed at the peak of the Body Tempering realm. It was the essence that determined a warrior's foundation and potential for the next stage.
Then came the laughter.Low, mocking, echoing from the trees.
Shapes emerged from the shadows—dozens of figures, clad in black hides, each face scarred with a blood-red symbol burned into their flesh.
The lead horseman's expression darkened.His hand reached for the sword on his back.
"Bull Gang…"
The words came out like venom.
The thugs grinned, fanning out through the underbrush. Their leader, a towering brute with horns carved into his skull mask, stepped forward, dragging a massive cleaver that carved furrows into the earth.
"Well, well… Cloud Piercing dogs. Didn't expect you here."
The protector spoke, voice steady as steel.
"Turn back. You're trespassing in the Grand Marcrum Empire's territory."
The brute laughed, his voice shaking the trees.
"Empire? Out here, the forest is the law!"
He swung his cleaver upward—and the fight began.
Arrows flew.Swords rang.The air filled with the roar of energy techniques.
The Bull Gang surged like wolves, but the Cloud Piercing warriors met them head-on. Vital energy flared around them, forming shimmering auras of gold and blue.Every movement was a blur of speed and precision—spinning blades, shockwaves, shattered earth.
The protector's sword flashed like lightning. One swing, and three bandits were cut down.But more poured in, their weapons coated with dark, poisonous mist.
The carriage shook as a young woman peeked through its window—her eyes wide, terrified yet determined. Her long hair, black as midnight, glowed faintly in the energy light.
"Protector Uncle… please be careful…"
He nodded once, his eyes never leaving the enemy. "Stay inside, Young Miss."
Suddenly, a massive shadow leapt from the trees—The horned leader of the Bull Gang himself.
His cleaver came down with monstrous force, tearing through the air like a falling meteor.The protector met it with a two-handed block—steel screamed, sparks erupted, and the ground split beneath them.
The impact hurled shockwaves through the clearing, knocking horses off their feet.
The brute laughed, pressing harder.
"Not bad, old man! Let's see how long you last!"
The protector's feet dug into the ground. His aura flared brighter, golden flames licking his blade.
"Long enough to kill you."
They clashed again, a storm of metal and fury, shaking the very trees.And as they fought, hidden among the shadows, another pair of eyes watched silently from above the misty cliffs—eyes filled with curiosity and purpose.