The forest thickened, its canopy merging overhead to blot out the light. The temperature dropped, and the sounds of insects and birds vanished into silence. Only the steady rhythm of his footsteps echoed in the gloom.

  Then came the growls. Low. Guttural. Hungry.

  Li Yan stepped into a clearing littered with stones and wilted grass. The air grew heavy with killing intent.

  Four Earthly Apes loomed before him—each towering over four meters tall, their gray-brown fur bristling with aggression. Their crimson eyes burned with feral rage as they beat their chests, claws digging into the ground.

  Li Yan didn’t move. His violet eyes gleamed faintly in the half-light. Instead of fear, a slow, dangerous smile curved his lips.

  "Perfect timing," he murmured, raising his hand.

  Li Yan steadied his breath. Deep in his Qi Core, Superior-Level darkness element stirred—alive, eager, hungry.

  Darkness Qi surged through his meridians, responding to his will like a predator freed from its cage. The sensation was cold, sharp, and oddly comforting.

  In his palm, a sphere of Superior-Level Darkness Qi formed, dense and pulsing like a heartbeat. It devoured the surrounding light, warping the air around it. The ground trembled faintly under its weight.

  Across the clearing, the four Earthly Apes growled, their instincts screaming in alarm.

  Li Yan’s smile deepened. He flicked his wrist.

  He dropped the orb.

  The orb struck the ground.

  BOOM!

  The black sphere shattered on impact, and a pulse of dense black mist erupted outward. In an instant, the 30-meter-sphere of the clearing was swallowed. Sunlight vanished. The air turned cold, the sound itself muted under the weight of the black mist.

  From high above, a crimson-robed figure hovered silently in midair.

  Sect Leader Ji Hong narrowed his eyes, observing the strange phenomenon. He had followed Li Yan for over twenty minutes, curious about the youth’s rapid growth. What he had seen was impressive enough—but this domain of darkness, this unnatural mist, carried something deeper.

  "What kind of technique is that?" Ji Hong muttered, frowning. Even with his cultivation at the Transcendent Mastery Realm (Stage-Peak), the mist resisted his perception.

  He activated a vision technique. His pupils glowed faintly grey as the world bent and sharpened under his enhanced sight.

  Yet the mist still resisted. Even his advanced perception could only skim the surface.

  A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. "I can’t even pierce it completely?"

  His eyes gleamed with silvery-grey light, cutting through mist. Only then did he finally see through the veil.

  Inside the darkness, Li Yan stood motionless.

  But his awareness was razor-sharp. The mist didn’t blind him—it was him, an extension of his will. His senses spread through it like roots through soil. He felt everything: every heartbeat of the apes, every shallow breath, every flicker of panic trembling in their blood.

  They can’t see. They can’t hear. And soon, they won’t even trust what they feel.

  The four Earthly Apes roared, thrashing in defiance. But the darkness twisted around them—warping perception itself. Illusions bloomed like nightmares: trees bending at impossible angles, shadows whispering their names, phantom blood dripping from unseen wounds.

  The scent of death filled their minds. Footsteps echoed from nowhere.

  One ape howled and lunged at empty air. Another turned on its kin, blinded by false images.

  Their instincts betrayed them. Chaos spread.

  Li Yan moved. His figure cut through the mist like a whisper of death—swift, silent, deliberate.

  The first ape caught a flash of violet eyes before its throat opened cleanly. The second stumbled, senses broken, and fell to a blade through its spine. The third managed a roar before a thrust silenced it.

  The last turned wildly, screaming, only to meet Li Yan’s calm, unblinking gaze—cold, almost pitying—before its chest burst open in a spray of blood.

  Then—silence.

  The dark mist retreated with a sweep of Li Yan’s sleeve, folding inward like obedient soldiers withdrawing from battle.

  Sunlight returned. Silence followed.

  Four corpses lay strewn across the clearing—each killed with surgical precision.

  Li Yan stood at the centre, calm and unhurried. A soft glow pulsed from one of the fallen beasts—a beast core, fresh and warm. It rose into the air, guided by an invisible thread of Qi, and landed gently in his palm.

  He stores it away.

  His gaze drifted across the scene, assessing rather than admiring. "Efficient," he murmured. "But the field radius is too small. Against faster or more intelligent prey, it won’t hold."

  Above, Ji Hong’s eyes narrowed. "This isn’t mere talent. Not even genius…"

  His voice dropped lower, heavy with disbelief. "This is calculation, precision—and darkness wielded with mastery most cultivators just dream of."

  "A Superior-Level darkness affinity…" Ji Hong whispered. "And yet, he wields it with restraint. No corruption. No loss of mind."

  As Li Yan turned and walked deeper into the forest, disappearing into the trees, Ji Hong’s expression grew grave.

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  "This boy… isn’t just stronger than his peers," he said quietly. "He’s dangerous."

  He hovered there, eyes fixed on the clearing below. Even after the mist faded, the echo of what it had concealed lingered in his mind.

  "That technique…" he muttered. "Even with my cultivation, I needed to use the third move of the Eagle Gaze just to see through it."

  The memory unsettled him. That technique wasn’t just an illusion—it had suppressed the beasts’ senses entirely, severing their instincts and perception in one stroke.

  Ji Hong exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting toward the direction Li Yan had gone, the faint stir of unease tightening his chest. "And yet, he used it as if it were nothing with his current cultivation."

  "Superior-Level darkness Qi… no." Ji Hong’s voice dropped to a mutter. "This isn’t mere affinity. That was a refined technique."

  Ji Hong rubbed his chin slowly, "Yet, why does it look like I was familiar with it?"

  Just as he was thinking, a memory surfaced, sharp and unwelcome.

  His brows knotted.

  "Wait… the Phantom Mirage…" he breathed, tension bleeding into his voice. "That technique was only mentioned in vague fragments—in one of the ancient manuals I lent him."

  He straightened abruptly. Realization crashed into him like cold thunder. "Don’t tell me… he’s already grasped it?"

  "Not just understood it—mastered it well enough to use in real combat within a single day?" His gaze lowered, narrowing with rare seriousness.

  "To comprehend the foundation of that illusion-based darkness art—an art most cultivators refuse to even study—and then merge it seamlessly into battle so quickly…"

  Ji Hong exhaled, breath slow and heavy. Something unfamiliar tightened his expression.

  Gravitas.

  "This boy," he said quietly, grim now. "What kind of monster has the goddess delivered into our sect?"

  He didn’t leave. He no longer could.

  Now more than ever, he needed to witness the true depth of Li Yan’s potential.

  Unaware of the eyes on him, Li Yan slipped deeper into the forest. His movements were steady, soundless. Each successful hunt sharpened his confidence in Phantom Mirage—but also reminded him of its price.

  "It’s powerful," he thought, leaping over a root and slicing a vine aside. "Too powerful for Tier-1 beasts."

  Darkness Qi pulsed through his meridians with cold precision, flowing like an icy river.

  "I can use it three more times," he decided. "Any more, risks depleting my Qi before something worthy appears. Wasting it on cannon fodder would be a joke."

  At the same time, he sensed a new pack of magical beasts. His Qi shifted, cooling and condensing into a stable, less taxing form. It still hummed with strength, but no longer carried the razor-sharp complexity of Phantom Mirage.

  He unsheathed his sword. Darkness Qi seeped into the blade, making it hum softly.

  A growl echoed to his right.

  Li Yan pivoted without a word. His sword flickered—clean, fluid, merciless. The beast’s snarl died before it could fully form.

  Another lunged from behind. Li Yan’s footwork slid him aside like wind brushing past leaves. His sword moved again—a glint of black steel—and blood fanned across the underbrush.

  Two more rushed in.

  His stance shifted smoothly—shoulders loose, breathing even.

  His blade carved silent arcs of death, every strike precise, nothing wasted.

  No Qi squandered. No movement extraneous.

  His body moved like a storm contained within still water, each ripple deliberate and controlled.

  Moments later, quiet returned. Bodies lay strewn across the forest floor, their blood sinking into the damp soil.

  Li Yan wiped his blade on the fur of a fallen beast. His violet eyes swept the carnage—not with satisfaction, but calculation.

  "Normal Darkness Qi suffices for now," he murmured. "Phantom Mirage is a blade reserved for throats that deserve it."

  He continued deeper. Shadows parted subtly around him, as though even the darkness showed deference to its kin.

  After several packs fell before him, Li Yan reached the deeper hunting grounds. The air grew heavier. Hostility thickened the atmosphere like a storm waiting to break. Silence pressed in from all sides—too absolute for a place crawling with predators.

  Jagged stone outcroppings framed a clearing ahead—the space pulsed with muted danger.

  A low growl rumbled through the stillness.

  Five Shadow Panthers emerged, sleek and silent. Their coal-black fur devoured the scant light beneath the canopy. Golden eyes gleamed—sharp, intelligent, hungry.

  They didn’t charge. They circled.

  Coordinated. Predatory. Testing.

  Li Yan’s expression sharpened.

  "They’re not attacking blindly," he murmured. "Smarter than the earlier ones."

  Li Yan raised his sword, inhaled slowly, and ignited his fire Qi.

  Scarlet flames curled along his blade, casting fractured light across jagged stone. The panthers tensed, muscles coiled. Then they struck as one.

  Li Yan moved first.

  He spun, his flaming sword slicing through the first panther mid-air. Another lunged from behind; he ducked low, sweeping a fiery kick that sent the beast crashing to the ground. Before it could recover, his blade plunged through its skull.

  A third panther leapt for his throat.

  Li Yan twisted, letting momentum carry his blade upward. Fire trailed the arc—clean, bright, lethal—and the panther fell in two burning halves.

  The last pair hesitated, instinct urging retreat.

  Li Yan didn’t allow it.

  A compressed flame shot from his left palm, slamming into one panther’s chest and dropping it instantly. He burst forward, driving his sword into the final beast as it attempted a sideways lunge.

  Ash drifted through the clearing. Embers glowed faintly along the forest floor.

  In seconds, it was done.

  Li Yan stood among the smoking corpses, expression unreadable. He got a single beast core from the largest panther and stored the bodies in his ring.

  "Too easy," he murmured, turning away. "Tier-1 beasts don’t count as threats anymore."

  Unaware of the consequences of what he just did, he stepped deeper into the hunting grounds.

  High above, hidden in the canopy, Ji Hong narrowed his eyes.

  He had watched all of it—the efficient movements. But none of that had shaken him.

  What froze him was the moment Li Yan summoned fire.

  "Fire element?" he whispered.

  "Impossible. He should only have darkness affinity."

  Dual affinities were not simply rare—they were world-altering. If such news spread, countless powers would compete, bleed, and slaughter to claim the boy.

  And then there was the goddess.

  "Is this… the true reason the goddess brought him here?" Ji Hong murmured, heart skipping a beat.

  His Qi fluctuated, briefly losing its calm.

  Down below, Li Yan felt a tremor ripple through the ambient Qi. His Spiritual Sense expanded sharply—but detected nothing. His range was not yet enough to perceive someone like Ji Hong observing him from such a distance.

  By the time he tried again, Ji Hong had already moved.

  He vanished from the treetops and appeared before Li Yan as though stepping out of the air itself.

  Li Yan tensed. The timing was intentional. Ji Hong had seen everything.

  "Elder Ji," Li Yan said, voice controlled despite the sharp jolt in his chest.

  Ji Hong regarded him for a long, silent moment before speaking. "You’ve been hiding something, haven’t you?"

  Li Yan’s eyes narrowed a fraction. "Hiding something?"

  Ji Hong stepped closer, calm but firm authority radiating from him. "There’s no need to pretend. I came to check the beast population… but I happened to see you. In fact, I’ve been watching for over thirty minutes."

  His tone deepened. "Your darkness element control is exceptional. But just now, you used fire."

  Li Yan’s heart sank. "He saw it all…"

  Phantom Mirage was only the first step—but the upcoming White Rank Competition will push him much further.