Chapter 37: Mysterious Young Man

Inner Region of the Clear Waters Mountains

The mist on the mountain slopes of the Clear Waters Mountains had not dissipated. The sunlight struggled to pierce through the fog, but its intensity was weak, giving the slope a grayish, ghostly hue.

Two groups of cultivators were positioned around a cave, locked in a silent standoff. The atmosphere was heavy with tension, and the cold, assessing gazes from both sides made it clear that the situation could explode at any moment.

Then, a figure emerged from the cave.

A young cultivator of imposing stature, dressed in a turquoise robe over a white coat, stepped out from the darkness. A black mask covered the upper part of his face, leaving only his mouth visible, where a faint, carefree smile rested—like a calm breeze before a storm.

His face was pale, with a slightly sickly appearance, but that did not diminish his beauty. On the contrary, his calm expression and confident posture gave him a mysterious aura—both distant and unattainable.

He held a large sword, its blade embedded in the ground beside him, as if he had no hurry to use it. But his eyes… those who managed to see them felt a chill. They were cold and piercing, as if gazing at others knowing they could not reach him.

The entire pressure in the environment shifted toward him.

— "Boy, why were you in there? Did you take the Blue Mist Dew?" — asked a burly man, the leader of one of the groups. He wore a white uniform with the symbol of a sword cutting through a cloud on his chest. His voice carried a threat, as did the intense spiritual pressure he unleashed upon the young man. However, his eyes were fixed on the young man's sword, gleaming with greed. He assessed the boy's cultivation level and grew confident.

— "You'd better be honest, or you'll die. And while you're at it, leave that sword for me."

The intentions were clear. He not only wanted the Blue Mist Dew but also the blade the young man held.

Before the masked youth could respond, the other leader—a man in robes embroidered with herb patterns—intervened.

— "Young man, hand over the Blue Mist Dew, and I can guarantee that you'll leave here alive."

His voice was more polite, yet it still carried condescension. However, unlike the swordsman, his caution was evident. He was not one to underestimate the young man so easily.

Among the disciples of his sect, one of them—Lu Zheng—felt a chill run down his spine.

"The aura he emits is at the first level of Primary Origin, but something isn't right..."

Both groups hesitated to attack, as they were also wary of each other.

The masked youth raised an eyebrow and smiled faintly. His voice, though pleasant and melodious, carried a carefree tone that irritated those present:

— "Are you done? Can I leave now? I'd rather not have to kill anyone."

He lifted an eyebrow and maintained that same faint smile, as if he were dealing with a bunch of petulant children.

Those words only made the two groups even angrier.

They, who were at least at the second level of Primary Origin and inner disciples of powerful sects, were being looked down upon by a mere first-level practitioner?

"Idiots..." — Lu Zheng growled mentally.

"Do you not think? Why is he alone in this inner region of the Clear Waters Mountains, completely unbothered? And he dared to enter a place where there should not only be a Blue Phantom Spider but also its den—a mid-level Primary Beast equivalent to the sixth level of Primary Origin?"

His unease grew stronger.

"You were too scared to enter just moments ago, and now you dare to speak like this? Is your confidence in the distant backing of your sects? Or in the protective measures you carry? They better be good..."

But those pampered nobles always demanded flattery, even when they were about to stick their heads into a dragon's mouth.

The leader of the Celestial Sword Sect, Tai, narrowed his eyes. Though spoiled, he was not stupid.

He took a step forward and declared, his voice dripping with menace:

— "Boy, hand over the Blue Mist Dew and the sword, or you will die."

The masked youth's smile remained unchanged.

But his eyes grew even colder.

— "How about we join forces, Brother Zhai? I'll take the sword, and you can have the Dew," Tai suggested to the other leader, attempting to form an alliance. He was wary, so he decided to pull the other group into dealing with the boy together. He did not believe they couldn't handle him with their power, artifacts, and talismans combined.

— "Agreed," Zhai said. Though some members of both groups resented being ignored, none dared to show it. Instead, they turned their frustration and anger toward the young man.

— "Be careful not to damage the sword or the storage pouch, or you'll be dead," Tai warned, while Zhai nodded in agreement.

And so, they ordered several of their men to attack the young man while they stood back and observed.

Five cultivators were the first to strike. Three from the Celestial Sword Sect unleashed sword attacks, while two from the Spiritual Herb Valley conjured spirit vines to restrain him.

The masked youth sighed.

— "I'd rather not kill, but if you insist..."

With a single motion, he pulled his sword from the ground, and in an instant, the vines were torn apart like paper.

The blades came at him, and he raised his sword in defense.

BOOOOM!

The impact sent him sliding backward, leaving deep grooves in the ground. But his sword remained intact.

Tai's eyes gleamed. "A heavy, long sword... Weapons like this are rare!" His greed grew, overtaking his caution.

— "Everyone, attack at once!"

Zhai tried to stop them. Something was wrong. The young man was still smiling—calm, almost gentle—and that sent a chill down his spine. A bad omen. He should have acted, should have trusted his instincts. But he hesitated.

And he paid dearly for it…

The remaining cultivators charged. A whirlwind of elemental attacks filled the air: fiery blades slashed through space, roots and vines emerged from the ground to ensnare him, spears of earth shot toward him, while swords gleamed in a frenzy of lethal strikes.

The young man remained still until the last moment.

His lips moved slightly.

— "You should be smarter."

Suddenly, an intense wave of heat erupted from his sword.

He raised it, and with a single swing, a golden flame burst forth. The mist in the area dissipated instantly.

VUUUUUSH!

The temperature skyrocketed. The air wavered from the suffocating heat. Before the flames even reached them, the cultivators felt their clothes catch fire and their skin sear with deep burns, their blood boiling, cooking their organs from within.

The smartest among them tried to defend themselves with talismans, weapons, techniques.

But none reacted fast enough.

Regret, fear, despair, pain. Those were the last emotions on their faces.

Their screams died before they could echo.

The flames devoured them like a raging inferno. A blinding flash illuminated the slope, and when the light faded...

Only ashes remained.

The nearby vegetation had been reduced to charcoal and dust.

The masked youth walked among the remains of the cultivators, their bodies crumbling into ashes. His breath was slightly heavier, but that gentle smile still lingered on his lips.

On the ground, one of the leaders clung to life, his body charred, barely able to move.

Zhai, who had been farther from the attack and had hesitated, managed to activate a defensive talisman at the last moment, barely surviving. Now, he crawled, trying to escape, his burned flesh reeking of scorched meat.

His eyes met the young man's. And regret—regret for hesitating, for joining the fight, for his greed—along with utter despair, consumed him.

He knew he would die. But he didn't want to. He wouldn't accept it.

He tried to open his mouth to beg for his life, to offer treasures, vows—anything.

But all that came out were guttural noises.

— "Everyone must face the consequences of their actions. If I had obeyed, would you have truly spared me? Maybe you'd let me live. But you didn't have to act. None of you would have let me leave alive."

Zhai desperately tried to deny it—to say he would have spared him…

The young man's sword gleamed.

With a clean strike, Zhai's head rolled to the ground.

To erase all traces, the youth once again unleashed his golden flames, reducing the corpse to ashes in mere seconds.

Then, he turned toward the cave.

Without looking back, he spoke softly:

— "You can come out."

Then, after a few moments of silence, a subtle sound came from the cave.

Hesitant footsteps, almost inaudible.

A figure emerged from the darkness—Lu Zheng.

He was still alive. But not because of bravery or luck in battle.

He survived because he ran.

The moment he sensed something was wrong, his instincts screamed at him, and he followed his gut without hesitation. That was his gift: knowing when to flee. For years, this ability had kept him alive, and this time was no different.

The other two leaders and their groups had been obliterated in minutes—no, in seconds.

But now that the fight was over and he had been found, he knew hiding any longer was useless. If he stayed, his fate would be the same as the others.

The masked young man had already shown that he didn't leave loose ends.

Lu Zheng swallowed hard.

— "Very clever…" — the masked young man's voice was low and calm, but there was something in his tone that made Lu Zheng shudder.

"…but now tell me, why should I keep you alive?"

Lu Zheng's heart pounded.

That question was not rhetorical.

His survival depended on the answer he would give in the next few seconds.

Every instinct within him screamed that any hesitation would mean instant death.

His body moved before his mind could organize his thoughts.

He dropped to his knees at once, his breathing ragged, cold sweat running down his back.

— "I, Lu Zheng, dedicate my life to becoming your servant! I will not betray you, deceive you, or reveal your identity. If I ever break this oath, may my soul scatter in an instant!"

Cursing his misfortune at being forced to follow this group of damned ancestors, he cursed them in his mind hundreds of times.

— "I accept. And you'd better be useful." — the masked young man spoke, accepting the pledge of loyalty.

Lu Zheng felt a wave of relief wash over him.

He was still alive.

To prove he was worth keeping, Lu Zheng immediately began to speak.

He told everything he knew about the two leaders who had died.

Then, the masked young man took out a small jade the size of a palm and a communication talisman and handed them to him.

— "Alright. You can go back and act as if nothing happened."

Lu Zheng's eyes widened.

Was he really going to let him leave?

— "Take this list and gather whatever items you can. I also need detailed information on each of them. Contact me if you find anything relevant. If I need you, I will reach out myself."

Lu Zheng's mind worked rapidly.

This wasn't just a command. It was a test.

If he failed this task, he would likely be dead the next time they met.

Without hesitation, he took the jade and the talisman, bowed deeply, and walked away without looking back. But he had forgotten to ask his new master's name.

The masked young man watched as Lu Zheng disappeared into the distance.

As soon as he was far enough, his expression changed drastically.

Suddenly, he spat out a mouthful of blood.

His body began to tremble.

His skin temperature rose rapidly, as if he were being roasted from the inside out.

The pain was unbearable. Even for someone who had lived his whole life in pain.

His face, always pale, turned red, almost feverish. An intense heat radiated from his body, distorting the air around him as if he were about to burst into flames.

He quickly reached into his storage ring and pulled out a jade bottle the size of his wrist, filled with a bright blue liquid.

Blue Mist Dew.

Without wasting time, he uncorked it and drank half the bottle.

Immediately, a bluish mist seeped from his body.

The temperature began to drop gradually.

The pain started to subside.

But the effect wasn't permanent.

'If that bunch of fools hadn't been so careless and underestimated me, I could have won, but I wouldn't have been able to kill them all—and I'd be even more injured.' — he concluded, recalling the battle. He was gravely wounded and needed healing before that erupted and killed him.

'There must be something useful here.' — he thought.

And so, he ventured deeper…