Cultivation Stages:
Qi Refinement (9 levels)
Foundation Establishment (early, middle, late)
Core Formation (9 levels)
Nascent Soul (early, middle, late)
Soul Transformation (early, middle, late)
Spiritual King (9 levels)
Saint Realm (early, middle, late)
Divine Sovereign
Spiritual Beast Ranks:
Ordinary Beast (no spiritual abilities)
Low-tier Fierce Beast
Mid-tier Fierce Beast
High-tier Fierce Beast
Low-tier Spirit Beast
Mid-tier Spirit Beast
High-tier Spirit Beast
Each rank is divided into three stages.
Soul Power Levels:
Weak Soul
Beginner Soul
Gathered Soul
Pure Soul
Body Tempering Stages:
Mortal Body
Tempered Body
Stone Body
Formation Masters and Alchemists share the same ranking, measured by soul strength:
Basic
Intermediate
Advanced
***
Currently.
Zhao Long was deep in a forest, hunting.
He raised his spear and hurled it toward a beast in the distance.
"Groar!"
A lizard, the target of Zhao Long's hunt, roared in anger. Flames burst from its tail as it charged at Zhao Long with lightning speed.
Seeing this, Zhao Long narrowed his eyes. He spun his spear and dashed forward to meet the creature head-on.
Boom!
Their clash shook the ground.
The lizard stumbled back, blood gushing from its wounds. Zhao Long only took three steps back before coughing up a mouthful of blood.
He stared at the lizard seriously. "A Tier-3 Low-level Fierce Beast really is powerful," he thought.
Boom!
Left with no choice, Zhao Long released all his aura—he was at Core Formation Stage 1.
His cultivation had progressed rapidly, despite the fact that his father held no important position within the clan, and they were given no substantial resources. That was why Zhao Long hunted—to obtain both resources and food.
"Groar!" the lizard roared.
From the flames on its tail, a fireball formed—burning red hot.
Swoosh!
The fireball shot toward Zhao Long.
His expression remained calm. He swung his spear and deflected the fireball to the side.
Boom!
Ssshhh!
The fireball exploded and set the forest ablaze.
Small birds scattered in panic, fleeing the fiery chaos.
Swoosh!
Using the confusion to his advantage, Zhao Long dashed forward through the smoke.
Thwack!
The lizard's eyes widened in disbelief. It froze as Zhao Long's spear pierced its head—straight through the brain—killing it instantly.
Breathing heavily, Zhao Long let out a sigh of relief. He retrieved a sword from his storage ring and began carving the lizard's meat.
He stored the meat, along with his weapons, back into the ring, then made his way toward the Zhao Clan—since the sun was beginning to set in the western sky.
While on the road, Zhao Long suddenly sensed something. Narrowing his eyes, he darted off in another direction, heading toward the source of the strange sensation.
After a short while, he arrived—and what he saw widened his eyes in shock.
Before him were three grotesque figures, gathered closely, holding a pitch-black stone in their hands.
Uneasiness filled Zhao Long's chest. He wanted to leave… but his curiosity tugged at him. What were these beings doing?
He turned to go, brushing away his curiosity.
But then—
Bam!
A powerful kick landed on his stomach, sending Zhao Long flying and crashing to the ground at the feet of one of the creatures.
"Ugh!" Zhao Long groaned in pain.
"Argh!" He coughed up a large amount of blood.
His body trembled violently. He looked down at his abdomen. His entire body was shaking, and the aura surrounding him began to dissipate.
Zhao Long's cultivation... was destroyed!
His eyes turned red with rage.
Weakly, he rose to his feet, glaring at the creature who had kicked him.
To his surprise, there were not three, but four deformed figures.
"Who is he?" one of them asked the one who had attacked Zhao Long.
"He was spying on us. I suspect he's a scout. Finish what you need to do and leave quickly."
"Hm?" The other three frowned.
"He's just a Core Formation Stage 1 cultivator. What's there to worry about?"
"Don't underestimate him. He may have sent a message. We could be exposed!"
"..."
Zhao Long, hearing all this, only glared coldly at them. He said nothing—no threats, no pleas.
"Kill him."
"Understood."
The four strange figures moved in unison, ready to eliminate Zhao Long.
Facing death, Zhao Long felt no fear or sadness. Only regret.
I'm going to die… before my father. I'll be leaving him all alone—still suffering under the clan's oppression.
One of the figures raised a fist, ready to crush Zhao Long's head.
Swish!
But before the strike landed, a powerful gust of wind blew through the area. The four grotesque figures turned pale.
"Damn it! A Nascent Soul cultivator is coming! Run!" one of them shouted in panic.
Without another word, the four fled in haste. They stood no chance against a Nascent Soul cultivator. Better to flee than die in vain.
Moments later, an old man appeared beside Zhao Long.
He was the Nascent Soul cultivator they had feared.
He gave Zhao Long a brief glance, shook his head, and then pursued the four deformed figures.
Zhao Long stared at the old man for a moment—his gaze cold and sharp, unafraid.
Of course he wasn't afraid.
Death was already at his door. What was there left to fear?
As the old man vanished into the distance, Zhao Long's eyelids grew heavy.
He slowly closed his eyes.
He had accepted death. But one thing remained in his heart—regret.
He would be the first to die… leaving his father behind.
A single tear slipped down Zhao Long's cheek as his broken, dying body collapsed on the forest floor.