Leaving the Island
With a hand seal the Alpha moonlight corpse that disappeared a few hours ago, reappeared on the ground.
This was the ability of the heavenly eye, it could store objects in the inner space.
Mo Zhenyu pulled out a knife and began to remove the perfect white fur he was going to turn into a coat. What he was looking for was the star core of the star beast.
Star beasts had starcore that allowed them to draw Astral energy directly from the Astral realm without a guiding constellation.
The moonlight Wolf was a high-grade beast it was equivalent to an astral flow realm cultivator. Its starcore would be quite valuable but Mo Zhenyu had other plans for it.
After carving for a long time, he found it. A clear, silver stone. The Astral energy condensed within was phenomenal.
"Ink Echo" Mo Zhenyu whispered, as his astral energy began to converge.
His hands were moving at incredible speed compressing the Starcore. And under the guise of his constellation Star ability he was able to transform the core, into a glossy silver ink.
He opened the heaven space and stored it in a cartridge.
He had 6 six cartridges full of unique ink. Because of the Ink Echo ability he could transform any Astral material into ink.
He pulled the empty cartridge from the Spearbrush and refilled it with his special black ink.
Right now the Spearbrush could only hold two ink cartridges, and the consumption rhythm was abysmal. He could change ink cartridges two to three times in a fight.
And once the ink was out he could not recover it. That was why the special ink was never used unless necessary.
Against the Moon wolf he had used his flaming sparrow ink, to draw the fire rune, now he was left with barely half.
This hobby was a money-consuming one.
He pulled out a long scroll and inserted the moonlight ink into the spearbrush.
He closed his eyes and began to reminisce. This was also an ability of the heavenly eye.
I could not forget anything he had witnessed. HE would recall everything to the closest details.
Right, he could picture the Alpha moonlight wolf. He recalled its shiny glossy fur, its giant height, sharp ears, the metal claw, and its canines. Most importantly its aura., aggressiveness, and fierceness. He recalled its pride and Grace. It was a majestic beast.
Then his brush began to move on the scroll.
Mo Zhenyu's astral energy began to soar, with every stroke. It was like he was battling the beast all over again. But no he was trying to capture its essence into a scroll.
His hand moved something fast sometimes slow, sometimes up, sometimes down.
Fluid, then erratic. Up, down. Flicks, slashes, delicate curls.
Slowly the moolight ink in the cartridge passed the halfway point without showing any indication of stropping.
The silver liquid seeped into the scroll, forming claws, fangs, and eyes that glowed with spectral light.
When Mo Zhenyu opened his eyes, the painting was complete.
The moonlight ink cartridge was empty.
He sighed as he threw the cartridge away.
The Alpha Moonlight Wolf stared back at him from the scroll, frozen mid-snarl. The aggression, the hunger—it was all there, sealed into the ink as if the beast could tear free at any moment.
After The completion of such high-quality painting,
The air hummed. A deep pulse of Astral energy flooded through Mo Zhenyu's body.
Then—a snap.
Something within him broke loose.
Power rushed through his veins, surging upward, tearing through unseen barriers.
This time it was particularly different.
His guiding constellation shuddered.
He had broken through the Astral flow and established a second link to his guiding constellation.
"Seven more to go" He muttered.
His fingers trembled from exhaustion, but he reached for the scroll anyway, blowing cool air over the ink to let it dry.
He slowly closed his eyes and fell asleep.
—
On a distant continent, far from Mo Zhenyu's island, a quiet chamber pulsed with tension.
The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and burnt incense. Six renowned array masters stood in a circle, their gazes locked onto the centerpiece of their five-year obsession—a painting.
It was no ordinary artwork. Beneath its delicate brushstrokes lay a multi-layered array, a masterpiece of deception. They had spent years dissecting its intricacies, peeling back layers of hidden mechanisms, each more elaborate than the last.
Tonight, at last, they had cracked it.
The Prince stood at the head of the room, his expression impassive, but his eyes gleamed with expectation. Beside him, the Saintess remained silent, her veil fluttering slightly from the unseen energy swirling in the chamber.
"Proceed." The Prince's voice was calm, yet absolute.
The lead array master took a slow breath, then bowed deeply. "As you command, Your Highness."
They took their positions, forming a precise hexagram around the painting. With synchronized discipline, they extended their hands, channeling Astral energy into the array.
The reaction was immediate.
A dull glow pulsed from the painting's surface. Runes—intricate, ancient—began to unravel, shifting like living organisms. The hollowed left eye of the figure in the painting suddenly rotated, grinding against unseen gears.
A sharp crack split the silence.
The glow intensified. Energy surged.
The anticipation in the room reached its peak—
Then, a single rune emerged from the unraveling array, floating before them, blazing with unmistakable clarity.
火
Fire.
The Saintess' breath hitched. The Prince's pupils shrank.
They knew this rune.
Mo Clan. Fire Explosion Rune.
A dead man's curse.
Their bodies moved before thought could catch up, Astral energy flaring as they vanished from the room—
Too late.
A soundless pulse expanded outward. Then—
BOOM.
The chamber ceased to exist.
Flames engulfed the ruins, consuming everything in a blinding inferno. The explosion's force was cataclysmic, warping the air itself, and sending tremors rippling through the ground.
Even outside, beyond the direct blast, they weren't safe.
A metal shard tore through the sky, slicing into the Saintess' face. A deep, ragged wound carved its way down her cheek, hot blood spilling onto her pristine robes.
The Prince was worse off. The shockwave had hurled him backward, his right arm twisted at an unnatural angle—a ruin of broken bone and flesh.
He staggered, pain crashing through his nerves, but his fury burned hotter than the flames before him.
"MO RENYU!"
His roar echoed through the night as he watched five years of effort—an entire fifteen years of patience, scheming, and work—burn to ash before his eyes.
—
On the other side, Mo Zhenyu was also watching a fire. Today was the day he would be leaving the island. There was nothing worth left here. He had taken down the strongest star beast and collected every resource.
Time would also suggest that Hao Lan should be coming back to this place soon. It was time to say goodbye to this place that had nurtured and fostered his growth.
He watched as the fire destroyed the hut and with it every trace of his childhood and existence.
He strapped his backpack filled with painting tools, and scrolls and walked away from the fire.
He arrived at his father's tomb, next to which he dug a smaller one as a decoy. It read "Mo ZhenYu. Loving son"
"Father, I am leaving this place, and I probably will never have the chance to come back. Hao Lan is probably aware of the trick now. She will be after me soon. If I meet anyone from the Mo family I will try to land a hand. But I won't make any promises. I am going on an adventure to see the world. From wherever you are send me good luck!"
He said before jumping down the cliff.
At the bottom of the cliff was a small wooden raft, with a badly sewed sail.
All he had was a raft and a dream.