A week later, Chen Mo sat by the lake, boldly grilling the last strips of python meat. His life had slowed into a satisfying rhythm—cultivating qi, strengthening his body, refining his Spatial Dominion Art. Every day was packed, fulfilling, yet intoxicating with the soaring confidence his newfound power brought.

  But he kept himself grounded. No carelessness, no unnecessary risks—he had learned his lesson the hard way. As he devoured the final portion of meat, a grin spread across his face. Fenglin City called to him; he missed the bustling streets, the familiar faces.

  From this day forward, he decided: he wouldn’t kill unless absolutely necessary. Violence breeds only more violence, and revenge lurks around every corner. Theft, he thought wryly, was far more elegant—and much less likely to leave a trail.

  With a sarcastic tilt to his grin, Chen Mo proclaimed to himself that he was now a peace-loving soul, a champion of love and harmony… at least, in his own mischievous way.

  Chen Mo cast a long, grateful glance at the lake, then turned his back and disappeared into the dark tunnel. He walked with calm, unhurried steps, his vision untroubled by the darkness; in fact, the world around him appeared as clearly as daylight.

  When he reached the mouth of the cave, he unfolded his vast six-li spiritual senses. The wilderness outside spread before him like an open map. The poisonous blood vines—the very ones that had nearly ended his life months ago—now shrank beneath the ground, trembling at the presence of his aura. To these demonic plants, Chen Mo’s power was equivalent to that of a Rank 2 demonic beast.

  A slow, amused smile curved his lips. His resolve to be a “peaceful” man remained, and he walked past the valley without uprooting a single vine. After all, why destroy something that had inadvertently protected him for eight long months?

  Exiting the valley, he strolled toward Fenglin City, enjoying the quiet majesty of the mountains and forests. Then, his spiritual senses prickled—a presence three li away. Focusing, he saw a group of qi refining cultivators patrolling the area.

  He was about to dismiss them, mere ants beneath his feet now, until his senses caught their words.

  “Boss, we already searched this area many times for that Chen Mo.”

  Deng Wu’s voice followed: “Keep looking. Any trace, however small, is relevant. I refuse to believe he’s dead. Besides, we hunted a big prey yesterday—you’ll get your rewards later, so don’t slack off.”

  Chen Mo’s lips twitched in a faint, predatory smile. The hunt had begun… and now, the hunter had become untouchable.

  Chen Mo slowed his pace, a calculating gleam in his eyes. Kill them? Yes—but not here. Not yet. The cultivators could wait. First, he would mark them, wait until he was safely inside Fenglin City. The boss… that one would not escape. Killing them in the wilderness would only raise alarms, alerting the city to his presence. Very well, they could live a little longer.

  With that decision made, he continued along his path with effortless ease, slipping past wandering cultivators and hunters without leaving a trace. Even the sect’s law enforcement, patrolling the mountain entrances, remained oblivious to him.

  When he came within two li of Fenglin City, his spiritual senses flared. The protective formation surrounding the city became visible to him, intricate and vast. Every spatial node, every anchoring point, shone faintly to his perception. With his newly honed Dominion Space Art, he could feel the very threads of space itself, bending and curving around the formation. A thrill ran through him—he had arrived at the threshold of the city, and the game was about to begin.

  Chen Mo flexed his mastery over his body, subtly manipulating his facial bones and frame. Even if the method was crude, it was effective—his figure was altered enough to pass unnoticed. He moved carefully through the trees, stopping fifty zhang from the massive formation protecting Fenglin City. From this vantage, he studied it intently, calculating the best approach.

  He selected a hidden alley, positioning himself perfectly to conserve energy for the teleportation. With a deep breath, he focused, letting his body melt into the fabric of space. In the next instant, he reappeared inside the alley, safe and undetected, the formation oblivious to his intrusion.

  Chen Mo let out a low, awed whisper inwardly: No wonder the Celestial Void Sect and the Xuan family were wiped out…they were simply too dangerous to be tolerated...

  Chen Mo strolled casually through Fenglin City, blending perfectly as an unremarkable 4th-level Qi Refinement youth. People passed by without so much as a glance—he was invisible to their eyes.

  He wandered into the Spirit Treasure Pavilion, eyes scanning the shelves until he found what he wanted: a famous cultivation art specialized in stealth. Every hunter coveted it; it was known as the Turtle Breath Technique. Without hesitation, Chen Mo spent 100 spirit stones to acquire it. Money was no concern anymore—if he needed more, he could borrow from any fellow Daoist, confident they wouldn’t refuse.

  He could even rob the pavilion if he wished, but there was no reason to invite trouble or draw attention. The more his abilities remained hidden, the deadlier they became. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he thought, Let them feel absolutely safe...

  By nightfall, Chen Mo slipped into the far reaches of the mortal district, where the streets were quieter and the lanterns flickered dimly. He found an abandoned courtyard, empty and unclaimed, and claimed it as his residence. No registrations, no rent—no trace to link him to the place. It was perfect. Silent. Safe. Hidden.

  A few days later, Chen Mo used his stealthy spatial spiritual senses to lock onto Deng Wu. By nightfall, he was standing in front of Deng Wu’s courtyard. A small formation protected the place, but to Chen Mo, it was nothing. With a thought, he flashed inside.

  Deng Wu sat drinking wine, completely oblivious to the uninvited visitor. He muttered to himself, voice tinged with sorrow: “Young brother Li… I failed you… I, your older brother, couldn’t avenge you… My only solace is that the enemy may already be dead by now…”

  A sudden voice from behind made him jump: “Well, I think your younger brother will be pleased to know I am well… and very much alive.” Chen Mo stepped casually into the room beside him.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Deng Wu leapt to his feet, startled, drawing his flying sword: “Who… who are you? How did you get in here?”

  Chen Mo’s voice was calm but firm: “Deng Wu, I heard you’ve been looking for me. I am Chen Mo. I came personally to see what you want… so tell me, what’s all this about?”

  Deng Wu’s face twisted with fury. His sword hummed with spiritual energy as he prepared to strike—but in the next moment, a crushing pressure slammed down on him. The brilliance of his sword faltered, and it clattered uselessly to the floor with a ding.

  “Foun… Foundation Establishment… Ma… Master…” Deng Wu stammered, sweat pouring down his face, unable to draw a full breath. His body trembled under the pressure.

  Chen Mo casually sat in the chair, poured himself a cup of wine, and sipped. “Mm… not bad…” he murmured, contemplating the best way to deal with the guy infrontof him. Without hesitation, he violently pressed his spiritual senses into Deng Wu’s head, crushing the unopened sea of consciousness with ruthless precision.

  Deng Wu’s body convulsed as blood poured from his seven orifices. Within moments, he collapsed dead, utterly defeated.

  Chen Mo leaned back, swirling the wine in his cup. “Perhaps there are special methods to attack the soul efficiently… I need to be careful and find a way to protect my own Sea of Consciousness. Space energy can create folds of protection, but one extra layer is never too much.”

  Chen Mo moved with practiced calm, rifling through Deng Wu’s spatial pouch. He plundered 500 spirit stones without hesitation, along with every valuable item—especially the talismans, several of which were surprisingly potent. His fingers then paused on a high-grade spiritual weapon, which he pocketed with a faint grin.

  But his interest was truly piqued when he noticed a book-like object tucked away. He reclined in the chair, opened it, and began leafing through the pages. At first, it seemed like a mundane diary—notes on daily routines, minor observations—but Chen Mo’s sharp eye caught what mattered: the flying boat schedules operated by the sect between cities, and the names of key figures in Fenglin.

  One name stood out repeatedly: Steward Mu. A 9th-level Qi Refining cultivator, he led a team of law enforcement, overseeing identity verification for those boarding the sect’s spiritual boats. Chen Mo leaned back, eyes narrowing as the wheels in his mind turned.

  Eventually, I’ll need to move beyond the sect’s influence… I’ll need a map, a spiritual boat… and perhaps this Mu is exactly the kind of person who could make that possible.

  Chen Mo waved his hand, and Deng Wu’s corpse instantly vanished into the spatial pouch. With the man now dead, storing him this way was effortless. Then, with a thought, Chen Mo forcibly collapsed the pocket space of the pouch. The corpse plummeted, shredded, and scattered into the boundless spatial currents, dissolving as though it had never existed.

  Chen Mo let out a low, satisfied chuckle. This… is a really efficient way to hide a body. In the future, any corpse I don’t want discovered can just be tossed into the currents, and it’ll vanish forever.

  Chen Mo sat alone in the quiet courtyard, the night breeze brushing lightly against the eaves.

  Power surged within him, yes… but so did caution.

  No matter how strong he had become, this was still a world of immortals. Strange methods. Hidden traps. Ancient inheritances. Curses buried beneath smiles. He reminded himself again and again not to grow arrogant.

  Even mighty forces like the Celestial Void Sect and the Xuan family had vanished into dust. What was he, compared to such existences?

  He took out the second jade slip and examined it carefully. He had already attempted to probe the sealed portion, but the restriction remained firm. His Spatial Dominion Art had to reach Stage 3 before the seal would loosen.

  “Perhaps it contains the remaining chapters of the Primordial Body Art…” he muttered softly.

  After experiencing the terrifying strength of Rank 2, he naturally longed for the complete inheritance. That body refinement path was not ordinary. It was savage, direct, and overwhelmingly effective.

  But there was no urgency.

  Even advancing within the second chapter would require enormous resources. Beast essence. Rare herbs. Dense qi environments. Advancement without preparation would only cripple him.

  For now, he needed stability.

  He would cultivate his qi steadily. Expand his knowledge. Understand this world.

  Power factions. Major sects. Merchant alliances. Rogue cultivator territories. The geography of continents and oceans. Trade routes. Spiritual vein distributions.

  Knowledge was as sharp as any blade.

  If he understood how this world moved, he could move between its cracks. He could plan wisely. Avoid unnecessary enemies. Choose battles worth fighting.

  As for Li Yuxue…

  Chen Mo’s expression remained calm. He did not dwell on it.

  Charging directly into the sect for revenge would be foolish. Emotional. Arrogant.

  And Chen Mo had no intention of becoming arrogant.

  Chen Mo summoned the panel screen, the familiar glow illuminating his courtyard. His reflection stared back at him, a mixture of youth and unrestrained potential.

  Name: Chen Mo

  Age: 17 / 170

  Realm: 4th Level of Qi Condensation 50/400

  Body Refining: Rank 2 (Early Stage) 35/500

  Cultivation Methods:

  Azure Pine Nourishing Art

  Primordial Body Art (two chapters)

  Skills:

  Spatial Dominion Art, Second Stage (40/400)

  Chen Mo studied the numbers carefully. Each digit told a story—growth, struggle, and power forged through eight months of isolation, raw determination, and relentless experimentation.

  He ran a hand over the panel as if confirming the reality. The numbers were more than statistics—they were proof that his body, mind, and soul had all stepped into a new tier of existence.

  A small smirk crept across his face. With this foundation, every next step—every breakthrough—would be deliberate. Calculated. Lethal, if necessary.

  And for the first time in years, Chen Mo allowed himself to feel it: possibility.

  Chen Mo was only seventeen, yet his combat prowess rivaled that of a Foundation Establishment master—a feat unheard of in this world. The panel had condensed decades, even centuries, of training and struggle into a matter of grindable progress for him. Every drop of effort, every experiment with his body and spatial arts, had compounded into this extraordinary power.

  He let the reality settle in. As long as he lived, there was no ceiling. With each passing day, he would continue to ascend, refining his body, sharpening his senses, and mastering the arts the world thought unattainable.

  Carefree immortality—the life of endless freedom, power unchallenged, and absolute autonomy—was no longer a distant dream. It was a horizon he could reach, step by step, thought by thought, breath by breath. And Chen Mo’s grin widened, sharp with the promise of a future only he could claim.