Chapter 136: Lingering will of wilderness

The morning sun lingering above the distant mountains, casting pale golden light across the stone platforms. The chirps of cicadas elegantly lingering across the courtyard. A light breeze rustled the surrounding bamboo trees slightly, but the air was still.

Lin Yuan stood alone in the center of one of the open platforms.

His right hand rested upon the dark hilt of Wànshī.

Lin Yuan took a deep breath, his knuckles clenching around the hilt, and drew the blade.

A metallic sound echoed across the empty training grounds.

He tightened his grip on the black hilt, his eyes narrowing. “Let’s try this again.”

His beast essence flowed through his arm like a river, concentrating it into the steel. The blade remained cold, dark, and utterly indifferent.

Lin Yuan frowned, his eyes furrowing in frustration. He stomped his legs and swung. A simple horizontal slash tore through the air, creating a sharp gust of wind.

Lin Yuan gritted his teeth and increased his output. His muscles bulged under his robes as his beast essence surged vehemently into the sword, forcing the energy through the hilt.

The stone platform under his feet cracked from the raw strength of his aura, spiderweb cracks crawling across the tiles.

But Wànshī remained completely silent, stubbornly refusing to take in a drop of his power.

“Fine. Have it your way,” Lin Yuan sneering, clicking his tongue.

He changed his stance, adjusting his balance and lowering his center of gravity. This time, he focused on immense speed. His figure blurred in the area.

He slashed again and again. The great sword moved through the air like a streak of silver lightning, cutting through the morning mist.

Still, nothing happened. The blade felt like nothing more than dark iron.

Lin Yuan stopped, lowering the weapon to his side. His breathing remained calm, but his irritation was increasing.

“Then let’s try killing intent…” Lin Yuan said to himself, nodding slightly.

His expression slowly became frantic, his eyes twitching as he tapped into the memories of his frenzied battles. The atmosphere around the area changed instantly, turning into suffocating.

A faint, bloodthirsty murderous intent got outward from his body. The surrounding bamboo leaves trembled in air, and the white tiger tattoos across his back began to rattle with a faint heat under his sleeves.

Lin Yuan raised Wànshī high above his head with both hands.

Then, the sword descended in a downward slash.

A deep scar was gouged across the stone platform, throwing up dust clouds and debris.

But Wànshī itself still didn’t respond. It remained lifeless in his hands. Lin Yuan stared down at the black sword in sheer disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

From the edge of the training grounds, an elderly figure had been silently watching him for quite some time.

“You’re trying to force the sword to acknowledge you, brat,” The senior elder shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle.

Lin Yuan stared toward the edge of the platform.

The elder slowly walked closer, his hands tucked neatly inside his wide sleeves. “A weapon like Wànshī isn’t some ordinary piece of iron you can just bully into submission. You can pour all the beast essence you possess into its hilt, swing it ten thousand times until your arms fall off, or fill this mountain with bloodthirsty killing intent.”

He reached out with his hand and tapped the dark sheath hanging at Lin Yuan’s hip lightly. “If the blade itself refuses to recognize you, none of that shit matters.”

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do with it?” Lin Yuan asked, lowering his gaze back down toward the silent sword.

“Understand its will,” the elder replied, turning on his foot to walk away. “Don’t try to command it like a master orders a slave.”

Lin Yuan remained silent, standing in the middle of the cracked stone.

The elder’s final words drifted back over his shoulder through the cool morning air. “Make it willing to follow you.”

Lin Yuan stared at the dark blade for a few seconds, understanding the old man’s advice.

Then, he slowly sat down cross-legged right there on the cracked platform. He placed Wànshī horizontally across his lap, resting his palms against the dark metal.

He closed his eyes.

****

Meanwhile, somewhere on the road toward Green Hollow City, a large guarded caravan rolled steadily along a rocky mountain road.

Inside the primary caravan, five young disciples sat quietly opposite two senior masters.

The youngest disciple leaned his shoulder against the carriage wall, staring out at the passing forest. After a while, he looked toward the senior disciple sitting across from him.

“Senior Brother…”

The elder man opened his eyes, staring at him. “What is it?”

“I’ve heard rumors about that demonic cultivator connected to Green Hollow City,” the younger disciple said, his expression becoming slightly nervous. “Why does everyone… even the faction masters get so damn serious whenever his name comes up?”

The senior disciple went silent for a moment, looking down at his own hands. Then he let out a low sigh.

“Because you don’t understand what happened out there.”

The young disciple frowned in confusion. “Was he really that powerful?”

“Powerful?” The senior disciple gave a strange, bitter smile. “Power isn’t the terrifying part, kid.”

He turned his head to look at the mountains. “The dangerous thing is what people are willing to do when they become hopelessly obsessed with wanting more of it.”

The other two young disciples in the caravan stopped adjusting their gear and listened quietly.

After a long pause, the senior master turned back toward them. “Let me ask you something. How many cultivation realms do you know?”

“Six, right?” The youngest disciple immediately answered, confidence returning to his voice. “Everyone knows that..”

He began counting them on his fingers. “Baby Beast Realm, Spirit Beast Realm, Core Beast Realm, True Beast Realm, Divine Beast Realm, and Saint Beast Realm.”

The senior master suddenly let out a low chuckle. The young disciples immediately turned their heads toward him.

The elder’s eyes held a strange depth as he looked back at them. “Almost every average cultivator in the world thinks those six are the only ones that exist.”

He raised one finger. “But, they aren’t.”

The chatter inside the caravan instantly died down.

“Those six realms,” the elder elucidated slowly, “are merely what the common cultivators of the Origin World are allowed to know.”

He raised a second finger. “Above the Saint Beast Realm lies the Heavenly Beast Realm.”

“And far above that exists the Primordial Beast Realm,” He said, raising another finger.

The young disciples stared at him in utter shock, their mouths slightly open.

“And after that…” The elder smiled faintly, a frantic look in his eyes, “the true path toward the Immortal Beast Realm begins.”

The eerie silence fell over the caravan. You could hear only the rattling of the wooden wheels.

One of the young disciples gulped, his voice cracking under fear. “Then… has anyone in history reached those realms?”

“As per my knowledge.. No!” the elder said, nodding his head. His expression changed, the faint smile vanishing from his face. “Even reaching the Saint Beast Realm is an achievement that borders on mythical legend. And those rare monsters who do manage to reach it slowly find themselves face-to-face with an even more terrifying enemy.”

Everyone is thinking what that more terrifying enemy is.

“It’s time.”

The young disciples remained silent.

“Cultivators grow old,” the elder continued, his voice changing into a solemn tone as he looked toward the passing mountain peaks. “Even the strongest beings under the heavens reach the end of their natural lifespan.”

His voice grew calmer. “And when a person has spent centuries desperately climbing toward the heavens, standing at the peak of power…”

He continued after a brief pause, “the thought of dying and turning into dust becomes impossible to accept.”

“So… they started searching for another way out?” The youngest disciple shivered, a chill running down his spine.

“Exactly,” the elder replied. “Desperation leads to madness. People became monstrously greedy.”

He slowly clenched his fist, the air around his fingers twitching slightly. “They began searching for unnatural, forbidden methods to forcefully break through their realms and extend their lives.”

“Forbidden rituals…”

“Mass blood sacrifices…”

“Forced beast essence extraction…”

“And harvesting living human souls.” His gaze became pale as he continued. “Some of these vile methods required butchering hundreds of innocent lives. And sometimes it may require sacrificing whole bloodlines.”

The youngest disciple turned pale. “Are those forbidden methods… easy to do?”

The elder suddenly let out a calm laugh that made the hair on the back of their necks stand up.

“Easy?” He asked, nodding his head. “Some rituals demand the lives of thousands of living beings just to begin it.”

He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto the young disciples. “And some rituals will devour the cultivator alive from the inside out, destroying their body and soul before they even get a linger of the next realm.”

The three young disciples sat frozen in their seats.

The elder turned his gaze back toward the window, watching the green scenery pass by in silence.

Then, he spoke without turning his head, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority. “Listen to me carefully, you brats.”

The atmospheric pressure inside the caravan suddenly turned suffocating.

“Never, under any circumstances, take a step onto the demonic path. No matter how desperate you become. No matter how strong the power seems.” He slowly turned his head back, his eyes locking onto them with a terrifying gaze. “If I ever discover that any of you have touched those taboo cultivation methods…”

He paused, letting the silence devour them. “…I won’t bother waiting for the faction elders to pass judgment. I will rip your throat apart, shatter your core, and bury your corpse with my own hands.”

The young disciples immediately sat straight, snapping their heads forward. “Yes, senior!!”

The elder turned back toward the road ahead, closing his eyes to meditate.

However, the senior disciple sitting near the window remained in thought. His mind kept racing back to his question. ‘What kind of nightmare are we riding straight into?

****

Red Talon Hall — Training Grounds

Back on the stone platform, Lin Yuan remained calm. The minutes ticked by silently. Then an hour, and it became two hours.

The morning sun climbed into the sky, casting short shadows across the stone floor. Lin Yuan’s breathing grew slower, deeper, and rhythmic.

He just sat there, listening to the sword resting on his lap. At first, there was nothing, but still Lin Yuan remained patient.

Another hour passed. Then, Lin Yuan’s eyes opened slightly.

A faint reverberation traveled through the dark blade of Wànshī, pressing against his lap.

Lin Yuan froze, holding his breath. His fingers twitched against the sheath. ‘Did I just imagine that?’

He closed his eyes again, getting back into deep concentration.

This time, he felt it clearly. A tiny pulse of energy hummed inside the dark blade.

Something existed within the core of the great sword.

Lin Yuan slowly opened his eyes, staring down at the weapon. The sword trembled once more on his lap.

And then, a faint, raspy voice resonated inside his mind “…Weak…”

Lin Yuan’s eyes twitched in confusion.

For a few suffocating seconds, he didn’t move, just staring at the silent black blade sitting on his knees.

Then, slowly the corners of his lips began to curl upward. A dangerous grin crawled across his face.

“So…” His fingers tightened around the hilt. “You can fucking talk!”

The sword immediately went silent again, as if regretting its words.

Lin Yuan’s grin widened, his eyes burning with intense curiosity. “Now this is getting interesting.”