Chapter 3 - The Path No One Walked

Darkness blanketed the mountain.

The entrance to the cave was hidden behind hanging vines and scattered stones. Outside, the wind howled through the forest like restless spirits searching for prey.

Inside...

Mo Wuchen sat cross-legged without moving.

The low-grade spirit stones he had taken from the disciples were neatly arranged before him. Beside them rested the worn cultivation manual.

His black eyes slowly opened.

"I've read it seven times."

Every sentence.

Every breathing technique.

Every circulation route.

Every explanation.

He had memorized them all.

Yet instead of beginning cultivation immediately, he picked up a small stone and drew several lines on the cave floor.

The meridian pathways described in the manual gradually took shape.

He stared at them silently.

"...Too inefficient."

According to the manual, spiritual qi entered through the dantian before circulating through the twelve primary meridians.

The route was long.

Slow.

Wasteful.

If qi were water...

Then this technique was carrying it through an entire mountain instead of taking the shortest path.

Mo Wuchen erased half the drawing.

"There should be another way."

In his previous life, he had survived by questioning everything.

People died because they followed habits.

Predictable habits.

He refused to become predictable.

Closing his eyes once more, he extended his senses.

The world became quiet.

His breathing slowed until it nearly disappeared.

Then...

He felt it.

Tiny specks of spiritual energy drifted through the cave.

Silver.

Blue.

Gold.

Red.

Each carried a slightly different presence.

Some were calm.

Others were violent.

The manual taught cultivators to absorb every type equally.

Mo Wuchen did not.

He simply watched.

Hours passed.

Gradually, he noticed something strange.

The darker streams of spiritual energy never mixed with the brighter ones.

Instead, they flowed separately, almost as though they possessed different instincts.

"So even qi has a nature..."

His eyes opened.

"If that's true..."

He looked toward the black fruit inside the jade box.

Dark energy leaked from it like smoke.

Perhaps...

The disciples had wanted it because ordinary cultivators couldn't control it.

A normal person would have hesitated.

Mo Wuchen reached for it immediately.

Without fear.

Without excitement.

Only curiosity.

He cut a small piece from the fruit using the sword he had taken earlier.

The moment it touched his tongue—

An icy sensation spread throughout his body.

His meridians burned.

Dark spiritual energy surged wildly through him like a raging flood.

Cracks spread across the cave floor.

His breathing became uneven.

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Most cultivators would have panicked.

Mo Wuchen did not.

Pain was familiar.

Pain was information.

He focused entirely on the movement of the energy.

The dark qi repeatedly tried to force its way through the pathways described in the manual.

Each time...

It became unstable.

"So that's the problem."

He changed its direction.

The energy resisted.

He adjusted again.

Minute after minute, he experimented with different circulation routes.

Some failed immediately.

Others caused sharp pain.

One nearly ruptured a meridian.

Still...

He continued.

Failure merely eliminated another possibility.

Finally—

The dark qi flowed smoothly through a completely different pathway.

The pain lessened.

His heartbeat steadied.

A faint black mist began circling around his body.

Mo Wuchen slowly exhaled.

"It works."

Not perfectly.

But better.

Far better.

Outside the cave, hidden within the branches of an ancient pine tree, an old man carrying a wine gourd frowned.

"Hm?"

He had entered the mountains searching for medicinal herbs.

Instead...

He had sensed an unusual fluctuation of spiritual energy.

The old man silently observed the cave from a distance.

"Someone is cultivating..."

"No."

His brows knitted together.

"Someone is changing a cultivation method."

His expression gradually became serious.

Cultivation techniques had been refined for thousands of years.

Countless geniuses had studied them.

To alter one without guidance bordered on madness.

Normally...

Such people died within moments.

Yet the strange fluctuation inside the cave was becoming increasingly stable.

"...Interesting."

The old man chose not to interfere.

He simply watched.

Back inside the cave...

Mo Wuchen opened his eyes.

A faint layer of black qi surrounded his body before slowly disappearing beneath his skin.

His senses had become noticeably sharper.

He could hear dripping water from deep inside the mountain.

He could distinguish different scents carried by the wind.

Even his heartbeat sounded clearer.

He had officially stepped onto the path of cultivation.

Not through inheritance.

Not through a sect.

Not through a master.

By his own understanding.

His gaze shifted toward the remaining spirit stones.

"They're not enough."

He estimated the amount of energy they contained.

Enough for several days at most.

Too little.

Cultivation required resources.

Resources required strength.

Strength required conflict.

The cycle was unavoidable.

He gathered the remaining items from the disciples.

The sect token caught his attention.

Carved upon its surface were three ancient characters.

Azure River Sect.

"Their companions will eventually search for them."

Which meant this cave was no longer safe.

Mo Wuchen stood.

He extinguished the small fire he had built earlier.

Before leaving, he carefully erased every footprint and every mark he had made on the cave floor.

Old habits.

Never leave evidence.

As dawn broke over the mountains, he stepped outside.

The first rays of sunlight pierced through the clouds.

The snow-covered forest stretched endlessly before him.

For a brief moment...

Everything appeared peaceful.

Then a distant roar echoed through the valley.

Birds scattered into the sky.

The ground trembled slightly.

Mo Wuchen looked toward the source of the sound.

"A spirit beast."

His black eyes remained calm.

In this world...

Humans were not the only predators.

He adjusted the black robe around his shoulders and began walking toward the deeper parts of the mountain.

Every step carried him farther from the helpless orphan who had died in this body.

Every step brought him closer to becoming something far more dangerous.

Not a hero.

Not a righteous cultivator.

Not even a demon feared by men.

He intended to become a being that even Heaven would one day regard as an enemy.

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