The gale within the deepest reaches of the Burial Sword Valley was no longer a mere wind; it was a physical manifestation of ancient, undying hatred. The air hummed with the high-pitched shriek of Geng-Gold Malice, the sound of ten thousand shattered spiritual blades grinding against one another in a never-ending cycle of erosion. Hua Sui stood at the epicenter of this storm, his upper body bare, his skin possessing a dull, metallic sheen of obsidian-grey. This was the first stage of the Marrow-Forging Script of the Obsidian King—his flesh was becoming as cold and unyielding as the tombstones surrounding him.

  He had spent the last few hours systematically absorbing the corrosive metallic Qi of the valley, using the jagged density of his black bone spine to filter the lethal impurities into pure, destructive power. He was close to the source. He could feel a heavy, concentrated vibration beneath the rust-colored soil—the Sunken Iron Essence he had been sent to retrieve. But as he reached out his hand to begin the extraction, the air behind him curdled with the scent of predatory intent.

  Three figures descended from the grey mist, their silhouettes illuminated by the sickly green glow of their flying swords. These were not the low-level slaves or the outer-sect overseers he had dealt with before. They were Inner Sect Enforcers, men chosen for their ruthlessness and their loyalty to the Lu family. Leading them was a man with a frame as thin and flexible as a whip, his eyes hooded like those of a reptile. This was Lin Mo, a Rank 2 Foundation Establishment expert known as "The Adder."

  "So, the little ghost finally shows his tail," Lin Mo sneered, hovering ten feet above the jagged rocks. He tapped a jade pendant at his waist, which was pulsing with a rhythmic, warning light. "Zhou Xiong and his men disappeared on the path you traveled, Han Ming. Senior Brother Lu doesn't believe in coincidences. He told us that if we found you, we shouldn't bother with questions. He only wants to see the color of your marrow."

  Hua Sui didn't turn around immediately. He slowly exhaled a cloud of grey vapor, his lungs now adjusted to the toxic atmosphere of the valley. He felt the Grey Seed in his chest thrumming with a dark, anticipatory hunger. In any other environment, facing three Foundation-level cultivators—one of whom was a rank higher than him—would be a death sentence. But here, amidst the decaying remains of a thousand swords and the swirling corpse-aura, the environment was his greatest ally.

  "Lu Chen is a patient man," Hua Sui said, his voice raspy and devoid of emotion as he finally turned to face his hunters. "It is a pity he sent such mediocre hounds to do a wolf's work."

  "Arrogant brat! Die!" Lin Mo roared, his hands weaving a complex series of mudras.

  From his sleeves, a thick, emerald-green fog erupted—the Venomous Cloud Art. This was a lethal, soul-corroding toxin that could melt the flesh off a man's bones in seconds. The fog rolled across the valley floor like a tidal wave, devouring everything in its path. The two enforcers behind Lin Mo sneered, already imagining the scream that would follow.

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  But the scream never came.

  Hua Sui didn't retreat. He didn't summon a protective barrier. Instead, he stepped forward, his eyes flashing with a violent violet light. He opened his mouth and took a deep, agonizing breath, dragging the emerald poison directly into his lungs. To the enforcers' horror, the fog didn't dissolve him; it seemed to be sucked into him as if he were a vacuum.

  His Inverse Qi, amplified by the black bone shard, was a predator that fed on corruption. The venom wasn't a threat; it was a refined supplement.

  "Is that all?" Hua Sui whispered, his skin turning a deeper shade of bruised purple as he processed the toxin.

  Before Lin Mo could react, Hua Sui disappeared. The Ghost-Step Art, fueled now by his stabilized Foundation-level Qi, allowed him to cross the distance in a flicker of grey shadow. He appeared directly in front of Lin Mo, his fingers curled into a claw.

  Lin Mo desperately tried to pull his flying sword back to defend himself, but the air around him had suddenly become stagnant. Hua Sui's Inverse Foundation was projecting a localized field of "Zero-Qi," a void that paralyzed the natural flow of orthodox spiritual energy.

  Hua Sui's hand pierced through Lin Mo's defensive shroud as if it were wet silk. His fingers sank deep into Lin Mo's chest, making direct contact with the man's heart.

  "Inverse Palm: Soul-Siphon."

  Lin Mo's eyes bulged, his veins turning black as his entire cultivation—the fruit of decades of labor—was forcibly dragged out of his body and into Hua Sui's meridians. He didn't just die; he was consumed. His body withered in a matter of seconds, becoming a desiccated husk that crumbled into ash before it even hit the ground.

  The other two enforcers stood frozen in a state of primal shock. They had seen many things in the Scarlet Cloud Sect, but they had never seen a man eat another's power. "Monster! He's a demonic cultivator!" one of them screamed, turning his sword to flee.

  "There is no escape in the valley of the dead," Hua Sui murmured.

  He didn't even chase them. He simply stamped his foot onto the ground, sending a shockwave of Inverse Qi through the metallic veins of the earth. The shattered blades buried beneath the surface responded to his call, erupting from the soil like a forest of jagged iron. The two fleeing disciples were impaled from below, their blood staining the rusted metal as their souls were shredded by the Geng-Gold Malice.

  The silence returned to the valley, heavier than before. Hua Sui stood amidst the carnage, his breath coming in slow, rhythmic pulses. He could feel the Rank 2 cultivation he had just stolen circulating through his Seed, being crushed and refined into his own power. He was no longer just at the beginning of Rank 1; he was standing at the threshold of the peak.

  He walked over to the bodies and retrieved their storage pouches, finding the Sunken Iron Essence they had already collected. But as he turned to leave, a violent tremor shook the valley floor. A nearby cliffside, weakened by the eruption of the blades, collapsed to reveal a hidden, ancient entrance.

  It was a tomb, sealed with runes that radiated a sharp, biting intent—a Sword Tomb from an era before the Scarlet Cloud Sect existed. Hua Sui looked at the entrance, and for the first time, the black bone in his spine began to vibrate with a sensation that wasn't pain. It was recognition.

  "Destiny is a cruel mistress," Hua Sui said, a cold smile spreading across his face. "But today, she is generous."

  He stepped into the darkness of the tomb, the shadows swallowing him whole. The recommendation on the 'New Releases' list had just begun, and the world was about to find out exactly what kind of monster had been born in the pits of the Broken Soul Pavilion.