The sky above the Forest of a Thousand Roots was still tinged with a purplish-red hue. A thin black mist hung in the air like a festering wound. At the base of a dim valley, Mo Fan's body lay sprawled across the blood-soaked, rotting roots. His breath was ragged, face pale, and his body looked as though it had been pierced by a thousand invisible needles.
"Urgh… damn thing…" Mo Fan groaned hoarsely, his eyes flicking toward the floating Netherroot Core, which pulsed slowly with a sinister dark green light.
But the moment he tried to move, a shimmering black hand pressed down on his chest.
"Stop." Long Zhuyin's voice rang out—cold and majestic, like an echo from the abyss of hell. Her figure appeared from thin air, standing tall like a looming shadow, her black hair drifting in the air. "You're trying to absorb the Netherroot Core in this condition? You trying to die, you little bastard?"
Mo Fan gave a weak grin. "Heh… if I die getting stronger, at least it's not a useless death."
"Your body hasn't recovered. Your internal energy is a mess. You need at least one full day and night to return to peak of Qi Refining Stage Two. If you force it now, the Netherroot Core will consume you from within."
"Tch… why are you always right, you old hag…" Mo Fan muttered, turning his face away.
Long Zhuyin sneered. "Because I once stood at the pinnacle of power. Now shut up and rest—or I'll knock you out myself."
Mo Fan raised his hand in surrender, then laid back down. The twilight sky slowly darkened into night. Mist crept in around his body, while the Netherroot Core floated patiently above, waiting.
Elsewhere in the country, within a hidden fortress veiled by shadow formations, the face of Yan Chuan—Leader of the Dark Hunter Sect—was twisted in seething rage. Before him, six bloodstained robes hung above a sacrificial altar.
"Six… SIX people!" he hissed. "Six of my elite disciples, slaughtered by that damned brat!"
The burly man with silver hair slammed his fist down on the stone table in front of him, shattering it to dust. "Mo Fan… that crazy bastard… I'll flay your face and make it my war banner!"
A nearby elder bowed fearfully. "Master Yan… shall we deploy the core enforcers?"
"No." Yan Chuan stepped onto the altar and raised a scroll. "I want the entire nation to know. Starting today, Mo Fan's head is worth twenty thousand gold coins—dead or alive!"
He flung the scroll into the air, where it burst into strange purple flames. Moments later, thousands of runes spread into the sky, relaying the message to every bounty hunter across the land.
Yan Chuan grinned viciously. "Let's see… how long you can keep laughing, devil boy…"
Meanwhile, beneath the starlit sky on a sacred cliff, Su Wan'er stood before a woman with an elegant yet icy face—Qing Yue, her senior.
"So… you didn't find him?" Qing Yue asked, her eyes blank.
Su Wan'er bit her lip. "I… didn't see him, even though he promised me he wouldn't leave before I returned, but…"
Qing Yue sighed. "Hmph. You're too attached to that strange man."
"He saved me."
"He's a demon. You're a disciple of the Clear Sky Sect. We don't mingle with devil trash like him."
Su Wan'er glared. "Our sect teaches compassion, senior. But your heart… is fouler than the roots of hell."
Qing Yue was silent for a moment. Then she smiled thinly. "The Clear Sky Sect is light… and light needs no shadow."
Su Wan'er turned away. "I'll return to the sect and complete my duties. But I'll still search for Mo Fan until I find him."
Qing Yue narrowed her eyes. "Be careful the light doesn't devour you, junior."
Back in the root valley—after a full day and night had passed, and midnight cloaked the world—Mo Fan sat cross-legged. His face looked a bit better, though dried blood still crusted at the corner of his lips.
"It's time," he muttered.
The Netherroot Core floated downward, then with a serpent-like hiss, merged into Mo Fan's chest.
"KRSSHHH!"
"AAARRRGHH!!" Mo Fan screamed. His body lifted into the air, and the ground trembled with the roots of the earth.
A dark green glow engulfed his entire form. Cracking sounds echoed—
CRACK—CRACK—CRACKK!
—from within. Blood burst from his eyes, ears, and mouth.
"ARGH! HOT! COLD! You f*cking—!" he howled, clawing at the dirt.
Long Zhuyin's transparent form slipped into his body through his back. Inside Mo Fan's spiritual sea, they both stood before a swirling vortex of dark energy.
"I'll hold the core's power. You focus on merging with it!" Long Zhuyin commanded, her form wrapped in celestial light.
BOOOOM!!
Mo Fan's spiritual body was blasted by a wave of energy. His veins lit up like burning roots, glowing red and black.
"AARGH!! I'M NOT A FURNACE!!" Mo Fan roared, yet still sat cross-legged in the real world.
Heavy breaths followed: "HAAAH… HAAAH…!"
His heartbeat thundered: "THUMP… THUMP… THUMMMM!!!"
Wave after wave swept over his soul. He saw flashes of his past life on Earth… his mother… his friend… blood… and his own demonic laughter.
"I won't die again… I haven't tormented this world enough…"
Suddenly, a small chuckle echoed in his head.
"Heh… now that's more like it, little Fan…"
Long Zhuyin emerged from behind the vortex. "Enough. Take the core—now!"
Mo Fan lifted his hand, blood dripping heavily. He gripped the blazing Netherroot Core.
CRAAASSHHH!!
Black light exploded. Mo Fan screamed with all his might—then everything went silent.
His body collapsed. Still.
A few moments later…
"Hhh… heh… hahaha… HAHAHA!!"
Mo Fan rose slowly, his eyes glowing a dark green.
His cultivation level had jumped to Qi Refining Stage Three, and his physical strength had surpassed human limits—equivalent to Stage Six!
But his body trembled with weakness.
"This is it? Felt more like getting sodomized by a fire dragon…" he muttered with a laugh.
Long Zhuyin appeared behind him, face pale. "I only managed to restore one percent of my strength. But it's enough… to keep you alive."
Mo Fan exhaled. "One percent… enough to torture a small town. Heh…"
He stepped out of the root pit, his body ablaze with newfound power.
"The world… better brace itself. I'm about to start lobbing heads."
Some time later…
Mo Fan's footsteps echoed softly among the writhing roots. His breath was still heavy, his body weak despite the surge of power. Inside him, the Netherroot Core's energy continued to flow, searing through him with internal burns that hadn't healed.
But more painful than the physical torment was…
"Where… the hell am I now, damn it?"
He stood before the same massive tree—again. For the fifth time.
Long Zhuyin sighed within his mind. "You just circled that tree for the third time this hour, Mo Fan."
"I know… I was just… checking if… maybe a new path showed up." Mo Fan muttered, trying to hide his embarrassment.
"In all my thousands of years… you're the only disciple I've ever met who's not just an idiot, but also directionally blind."
Mo Fan fell silent. Ashamed, but unable to argue.
"Eh… I'm a city kid. On Earth, I had Google Maps. There's none of that crap in this forest."
"Maybe I should beg the heavens to invent Spiritual Google Maps just for you!" Long Zhuyin snapped, her voice thundering inside Mo Fan's mind.
Mo Fan raised a hand as if surrendering. "Okay, okay… I'll find a way out… nice and easy… chill, Master… don't blow a vein."
Three hours later…
"Finally! Light! That's sunlight!" Mo Fan cried, eyes gleaming.
He ran, bursting through the underbrush, leaping over a trench, and at last—stepped onto a small stone path leading to a remote village on the forest's edge.
The village was quiet, but a few farmers kept watch at the roadside. When they saw the ragged figure of Mo Fan—filthy, clothes torn, body covered in burn marks, and most importantly, a face identical to the wanted poster now pinned to the bamboo gate…
...they exchanged tense glances. One of them gripped his spear tightly.
"Oi, isn't that… the brat on the wanted poster? The one worth 20,000 gold?"
"Looks just like him… That crazy glare, that wild hair like some madman…"
"Report him! Quick! This is a rare chance!"
Meanwhile, Mo Fan stood there, giving a wry smile as he looked at the poster beside him. His face was printed clearly, with bold letters reading:
WANTED — DEAD OR ALIVE – REWARD: 20,000 GOLD COINS
Beneath it was the large seal of the Dark Hunter Sect.
Mo Fan stared at the poster bearing his face, then glanced toward the villagers, who were already panicking and scrambling into their homes. He took a deep breath...
"...Damn this cursed world, can I not have a single peaceful day?!"
Since the moment he arrived in this realm, peace and quiet had never once paid him a visit.
"RUN!! IT'S THE FUGITIVE!!" an old woman shrieked, hurling a rice spoon straight at Mo Fan.
THWACK!
The spoon smacked him squarely on the forehead.
"YOU OLD BAG OF BONES, I'M NOT A DAMN FUGITIVE!!" he shouted in frustration.
But then, the village's emergency bell rang out, and a dark mist began to slither in from the east...
Mo Fan grinned.
"Well… guess it's bloodbath time again. But this time, I'm stronger than you bastards."
Dark silhouettes loomed on the horizon. Assassins of the Dark Hunter Sect were closing in...
And fresh blood was about to spill once more.