Chapter 1: The Woodcutting Boy
For thousands of miles, the northern lands lay locked in ice. Snow stretched to every horizon, a vast expanse of white. In the kingdom of Asgard, amid the sprawling wilderness, birds and beasts had long since vanished. Most wealthy households had retreated indoors, warming themselves by charcoal fires. But at the foot of the eastern mountains in Misty Veil Peaks, a group of boys in thin black tunics swung their long blades again and again through the bitter cold.
On a raised platform, a middle-aged martial artist watched the disciples training in the practice field, his gaze as sharp as an eagle's.
Leo, dressed in a gray fur jacket with a woodcutter's hatchet tucked into his belt, watched the Thunder Blade Sect disciples practicing their sword forms with envy.
"Get moving! Stop dawdling!" a man behind him barked, forcing authority into his voice. He was dressed in a similarly thick gray coat. "If you don't chop enough firewood today, there'll be no dinner for you!"
"What did you say? Say that again!" A boy a good head taller than Leo strode through the outer hall entrance, his cold voice cutting through the air.
"Brother Felix!" Leo's face lit up at the sound.
The newcomer was Felix, from the same Goat Village as Leo. But Felix was the pride of their village — taken in by the Thunder Blade Sect as an outer disciple while still young, his talent so remarkable that within a year he had risen to become an inner disciple.
Back in Goat Village, no one had been closer to Leo than Felix. When drought struck their village the previous year and Leo's family gained a new baby brother and sister, their meager farmland could no longer feed everyone. Felix had brought Leo to the Thunder Blade Sect. Leo had no talent for martial arts, so he worked as a laborer — hauling water, cooking, chopping wood in the mountains. The work was hard, but in these impoverished, chaotic times, it was enough to survive.
"So you're an inner sect senior brother," Ludwig stammered, his face paling. Ludwig was the overseer who usually threw his weight around among the laborers. "I... I didn't know young Leo was an acquaintance of yours. Please forgive my rudeness, Senior Brother... and Leo."
Ludwig was just a laborer overseer — not a permanent position. Even outer sect senior disciples were far above him. He couldn't afford to offend anyone.
"Brother Felix, Overseer Ludwig was just worried I wouldn't chop enough firewood in time," Leo said, trying to smooth things over. "He meant no harm. Please don't blame him."
Leo had been a laborer long enough to know that while Felix could afford to offend Ludwig, Leo himself still had to work under the man. If Ludwig was replaced, who knew if the next overseer would be even worse?
"Fine. Since Leo speaks for you, I'll let it slide this time. But if I ever see you bullying Leo again, you'll regret it. Now get lost." Felix glared at Ludwig.
"Yes, yes. It won't happen again." Ludwig nodded frantically and fled.
"The disciplinary hall has been strict lately," Felix said apologetically. "I only just advanced my Wind-Splitting Blade technique to the third level, so my master let me rest for two days. That's why I couldn't come see you until now."
"That's great, Brother Felix! The better you are, the less anyone dares to bully me in the laborer quarters," Leo said happily.
"No one will bully you, Leo. I'll make sure of it," Felix said with fierce pride.
As they spoke, a young man and an exceptionally pretty young woman, both in white combat robes, stood not far away and waved. "Senior Brother Felix, what's taking so long? Hurry up — we're going to town!"
Leo saw them waiting. "Brother Felix, they're waiting for you. Go ahead. I need to chop firewood. I still have my quota to finish today."
"I have time. I'll help you chop wood," Felix said, shaking his head.
"No need. I go every day. It doesn't take long. You finally have a couple of days off — don't waste them on chopping wood." Leo tried to push Felix away, but after years of martial training, Felix was too strong for him to budge.
"Alright. I'll bring you back something good to eat," Felix said, tempted. He was young at heart, and after all his hard training, the lively town market was calling.
"Thanks, Brother Felix."
Leo waved and turned toward the back mountain, trudging through the snow — one step sinking deep, the next scraping the surface. Looking back, he watched Felix walk away, laughing and chatting with his two junior sect mates. The smile on Leo's face faded, replaced by a quiet loneliness.
This is the difference between a martial artist and a laborer, he thought. Two completely different worlds.
But maybe it was fate. He had no talent for martial arts. No matter how hard he tried, he would always be a laborer. Better focus on chopping enough wood to get by.
Payday was only a few days away. Thinking about the two silver coins he had saved up, a small smile returned to his face. He sent some money back to his family every so often, but he had also been saving for himself. Once he had enough, he would go to the city and learn a trade — carpentry, blacksmithing, something. The Thunder Blade Sect was fine, but a laborer was forever a servant. Even if he couldn't become a martial artist, he didn't want to spend his whole life kowtowing to others.
Those two silver coins in his pocket — they were like a dream he carried with him. The snow-covered path didn't seem so hard to walk anymore.
Behind the sect, the mountain stretched into a vast, wild forest of endless, rolling peaks.
Leo didn't start chopping wood right away. First, he went to a hidden cave and pulled out a patched fishing net. He strung it between several trees, then took a bag of grain from his pocket and scattered it on the snow beneath the net.
Satisfied, he pulled out his hatchet and walked deeper into the forest. Among the trees, he found a dead, rotting trunk and began to chop.
Chop!
Chop!
The sharp hatchet bit into the not-too-thick trunk again and again. Snow fell from the branches above. Leo brushed the ice off his shoulders and kept swinging.
After more than two hundred strokes, the tree groaned and crashed to the ground, spraying his face with old snow.
Despite the bitter cold, the repeated swinging raised a thin steam from his body. Nearly two hours later, Leo loaded the chopped wood into his basket. Time to check the traps.
Lately, he had been able to send money home and still save a little — not just by eating sparingly, but mostly by catching wild game in the mountains. He couldn't take down big beasts, but pheasants and partridges were enough to make him happy.
Caw-caw!
He heard the squawking and flapping of pheasants from a distance. Leo's heart leaped. More than one, by the sound of it. What a haul. The noise gave him an extra burst of energy. His steps felt lighter than usual.
Then a low growl froze the blood in his veins.
Leo's hands tightened around his hatchet handle. His eyes searched every gap between the trees as he backed against a thick trunk.
Slowly, a green wolf the size of a calf emerged from the forest. Its eyes gleamed with menace, its sharp fangs bared. It growled low in its throat and padded toward him step by step.
The joy of catching pheasants vanished in an instant, replaced by raw terror. Even his father, an experienced hunter, would have been in grave danger facing such a beast in the mountains. And Leo was just a boy barely into his teens.
I should have asked Felix to come with me, he thought bitterly. If Felix, a trained martial artist, were here, they might have a fighting chance. Now all Leo could do was swing his hatchet and shout to scare the lone wolf away.
But it wasn't alone.
From the right side of the forest, another wolf emerged — smaller, but no less deadly.
Despair washed over Leo. One wolf, and he could barely hope to escape. But two?
There's no way out.
Chapter 2: The Mysterious Valley
The massive green wolf's charge scared off its smaller companion. Not wanting its prey stolen, it lunged first.
"Ah—!"
Leo screamed, shrugging off his basket and hurling his hatchet at the wolf. As the beast dodged, he bolted across the snow with every ounce of strength he had. The wolf barely sidestepped before resuming its pursuit. The distance between them shrank with terrifying speed.
Reaching a small slope, Leo lost his footing. He tumbled down, rolling head over heels. The wolf leaped after him, growling low in its throat.
Leo squeezed his eyes shut, too terrified to watch.
"ROAR!"
A thunderous roar nearly knocked Leo senseless. Through his disbelief, he saw a massive black bear, nearly three meters tall, charging toward him like a runaway boulder. The frozen ground trembled under the beast's thousand-kilo frame. For all its bulk, the bear moved with shocking speed and agility.
The fearsome green wolf let out a pitiful yelp. A single swipe from the bear's paw sent its hundred-kilo body flying through the air like a ragdoll. It slammed into a tree trunk two dozen meters away — a tree as thick as a man's waist. The trunk shook violently from the impact. The wolf hit the ground and lay still, lifeless.
The other wolf had already fled, vanished without a trace.
Leo was so stunned he forgot the pain of his fall. A massive, furry bear face loomed over him, sniffing. He could feel the hot, rank breath of the beast washing over his face. He didn't dare move.
Then a clear, short whistle cut through the air.
The great bear grunted softly, withdrew its face, and padded obediently toward the source of the sound — leaving Leo behind.
Moments later, Leo saw a black-robed old man emerge from the snow as if from nowhere. His face was pale, wrinkled, and gaunt beneath his hood. The old man flicked his wide sleeve, and a gust of wind rushed at Leo. Before Leo could react, darkness took him.
The black-robed old man crossed several dozen meters in a few effortless strides. He stopped beside Leo, pulled out a transparent crystal disk, and placed Leo's hand on its surface. The disk immediately lit up with five colors spinning together — red, blue, green, gold, yellow — shifting and changing without end.
It seems he has a spiritual root, otherwise the Spirit Detection Disk wouldn't have activated, the old man thought. But the colors keep shifting. What kind of spiritual root is this? No matter. Finding someone with any spiritual root at all in the mortal lands of Asgard is difficult enough. I have no one else to use. He'll have to do.
The black-robed old man's expression flickered. In all his years wandering the cultivation world, he had never encountered a case where the Spirit Detection Disk couldn't identify the spiritual root. After a moment's hesitation, he muttered a cryptic incantation.
The black bear grunted, lowered its head, and picked Leo up by the collar. Then it loped after the old man, who glided ahead with light, effortless steps — always staying ahead of the charging bear. The forest blurred past them.
Hours later, deep in the remote mountains hundreds of miles from the Thunder Blade Sect, a mysterious valley shrouded in white mist echoed with the roars of tigers and cries of apes.
Three figures stood near the valley entrance.
"Those Palace of the Heavenly Apex bastards really know how to chase," one of them growled. "We fled all the way to Asgard before we finally shook them off. If those mad dogs keep biting at our heels, we won't have a place left to hide."
The speaker was a burly, bearded man with a bronze axe hanging from his belt. Despite the bitter winter cold, his upper body was bare, revealing bronze skin and corded muscle.
"The Palace has too much power," a green-skirted woman said, her voice laced with complaint. A thin, long scar ran down her face, but her figure was full and lush. "It's all the Blood Dwarf's fault. If you hadn't been so careless, the Palace never would have found any trace of us. We've been living like stray dogs for years now. And our spirit stones are almost gone. Are we supposed to eat mundane grain like common mortals?"
"How can you blame me?" The Blood Dwarf was a man in his forties, no bigger than an eight or nine-year-old child, dressed in red with a wisp of blue beard on his chin. He sneered. "The Palace cultivators are truly formidable. But none of this would have happened if you two hadn't gotten it into your heads to kill and rob them." His tone turned sarcastic. "Besides, if those Palace disciples hadn't hounded us, we never would have stumbled upon this hidden valley by accident. The spiritual energy here is so dense — this must be a treasure ground."
"Treasure ground or death ground — who can say?" the burly man said grimly. "This valley is strange. The white mist never lifts, and there seems to be a restriction inside that blocks spiritual sense. If we enter, we'll be no different from mortals. If we run into demon beasts in there..." He trailed off.
The green-skirted woman stamped her foot impatiently. "Our spirit stones and pills are nearly gone. If we don't find some treasures soon, what are we supposed to do? No matter how dangerous it is inside, we have to take a look. Who knows — maybe it really is a treasure ground. What's taking Ragnar so long? He's been gone for days. If he doesn't come back soon, I'm going in myself."
"By all means, go ahead and explore it yourselves," a hoarse, gloomy voice echoed from the forest.
The green-skirted woman's face changed. Then she let out an exaggerated, silvery laugh. "Oh, Ragnar, I was only joking. This valley is quite strange. You have the deepest cultivation among us, and you're skilled in alchemy. Without you, Ragnar, we'd never dare venture into such an odd place."
"Ragnar, you've finally returned," the Blood Dwarf said with a hearty laugh. "We've been waiting forever." Then he noticed the bear. "Hey — why did you bring back a kid?"
The burly man scratched his head. "You've got the size, but not the wits. We've been on the run all the way to Asgard. Ragnar's pill boy was killed by those Palace disciples — couldn't escape in time. Of course he needs a new one."
The Blood Dwarf chuckled. "Now that Ragnar has his new pill boy, shouldn't we pick a day to go inside and see what's in this valley?"
"Exactly!" the burly man agreed. "The Blood Dwarf has a point. This valley might be dangerous, but it could also be a treasure ground. And best of all — no other cultivators around. A gift from heaven."
The Blood Dwarf and the burly man nodded eagerly. For treasure-hunting cultivators like them, the greatest enemies weren't the demon beasts or traps inside a secret realm — it was other treasure hunters with ill intentions. Each of them had already killed no fewer than ten fellow cultivators. Loose cultivators who survived this long, drifting from place to place, were almost always ruthless, decisive killers.
Chapter 3: The Primordial Chaos Scripture
"A full exploration of the valley will have to wait," the black-robed old man said.
"Why?" The green-skirted woman's face fell. "Right now, we're the only ones here. What if other cultivators discover this place later? Won't we have wasted our chance?"
The black-robed old man snorted. "My pills are nearly gone as well. If any of you are confident enough to explore the valley on your own, be my guest. I need to refine some healing pills and spiritual energy recovery pills first. You're welcome to do as you please."
"So that's it," the burly man said, slapping his thigh with excitement. "How about this, Ragnar? You focus on refining pills. The three of us will search the valley for spiritual herbs and other materials to use in your alchemy. Once we're properly prepared, we'll all go in together. What do you say, Ragnar?"
The black-robed old man hesitated for a moment. Under the expectant gazes of the burly man, the Blood Dwarf, and the green-skirted woman, he finally nodded. "Very well. That's the plan."
"I'll carve out a cave at the valley entrance," he added. "You three do as you see fit. If you find any spiritual materials, bring them to me."
With that, the black-robed old man vanished into the valley's mist.
Leo woke up groggy and disoriented. He found himself dangling from the black bear's mouth like a cub being carried by its mother. Cold sweat broke out all over his body. He didn't dare breathe too loudly. If he startled the bear, one snap of those massive jaws would cut him in two.
The bear followed the black-robed old man deeper into the valley. After about three hundred meters, the surrounding mist grew thicker. Leo could barely see thirty meters ahead — beyond that, everything was a blur of white.
The old man stopped at a relatively flat spot. He flicked his wide sleeve and shouted, "Expand!"
A small, pale golden sword shot out from his sleeve, no longer than two inches. In an instant, it swelled to several feet in length.
This... this is a flying sword!
Leo was so stunned by the sight that he forgot to be afraid. He watched in disbelief as the golden sword flew toward the cliff face. It sliced into the solid rock as if cutting through tofu.
Chunks of stone rained down from the cliff.
"Ragnar's flying sword is truly something," the green-skirted woman murmured, her expression shifting as she and the others entered the valley behind them. "Carving out a cave dwelling from solid rock so easily."
"It's just sharp," the Blood Dwarf said sourly. "If it can't pierce a person, what good is it?"
The black bear grunted, dropped Leo on the ground, and loped over to help clear the fallen rubble.
Leo landed hard on his rear, but he didn't dare make a sound. He was terrified of angering the black-robed old man, who was still controlling his flying sword. These are immortal arts — the stuff of legends. When he had worked as a laborer at the Thunder Blade Sect, he had watched the martial masters train. The strongest among them could split a boulder with a single sword strike — but after a few such strikes, their inner strength would run dry. This old man, however, was carving an entire cave dwelling from the mountain with a flying sword. He was witnessing something beyond imagination.
In truth, carving the cave wasn't as effortless as Leo thought. The old man paused once to rest and meditate, sweat beading on his face. Still, his power was far beyond anything Leo could comprehend.
"Cultivation chamber, alchemy room, spirit beast room, secret chamber, living quarters... that should do it," the old man muttered. He raised his hand, and the golden flying sword shrank back down, disappearing into his wide sleeve.
"Follow me."
The old man glanced at Leo, his tone brooking no argument. Leo had no doubt that if he refused, the massive black bear would swallow him whole. The sheer authority of an immortal made rebellion unthinkable. Still, Leo couldn't help but notice how cold the old man seemed — distant, unwelcoming.
"What's your name?" the old man asked once they were inside the cave.
"Leo."
"From now on, you will learn the arts of cultivation under me. Do as you're told. Don't ask questions." The old man's voice was dry and harsh. "Otherwise, I'll feed you to the bear. One bite at a time."
"I... I can learn cultivation arts?" Leo's young heart leaped with excitement. But one look at the old man's icy gaze made him flinch. He remembered the warning about asking questions. "Yes... yes, sir."
The old man nodded slightly. For a boy this young to still find his voice under such scrutiny — that showed some backbone. But the boy was small. He would have to handle all sorts of chores. Without at least some cultivation, even a full-grown man would be worn down.
The old man rummaged through his storage pouch and pulled out a few cultivation manuals. He frowned. He still couldn't determine the boy's aptitude — and it probably wasn't good. He couldn't even identify which elemental spiritual root the boy had. If he had any other choice, he wouldn't have brought Leo here at all.
After a long pause, the old man pulled out a manual titled The Primordial Chaos Scripture. He had taken it from a Palace of the Heavenly Apex disciple's storage pouch. The technique had no elemental requirements. As for any adverse side effects — well, he had no way of knowing. He could only try.
The copy he had was incomplete — it only went up to the middle stage of Qi Refining. The old man himself had already reached the peak of Qi Refining. The Primordial Chaos Scripture was useless to him. It might as well go to the boy.
"This is your cultivation manual. Keep it safe. Tomorrow, I will teach you how to begin."
"Yes, sir." Leo wanted to say thank you, but the old man's cold stare made the words die in his throat. It was clear the old man had no interest in taking him as a disciple.
The old man gave Leo a tiny stone chamber — barely more than a closet — a single animal hide spread on the floor, and a few basic household items. Then he sent Leo away and sat down cross-legged to meditate. Carving the cave had drained not only his spiritual energy but also his mind. He needed to recover.
Alone in his cramped stone chamber, Leo could barely contain his excitement. He clutched The Primordial Chaos Scripture to his chest like a priceless treasure.
At the Thunder Blade Sect, he had been nothing but a lowly laborer — chopping wood, feeding horses, sweeping floors, boiling water. Day after day, nothing but drudgery.
Now — though the black-robed old man was hardly warm — he would learn the arts of immortals. One day, he would wield a flying sword like the old man, slicing through mountains like butter.
Even if his new home was nothing but a tiny stone chamber with only a strange, spotted animal hide for a bed, Leo felt perfectly content.