The sky was already awash in orange. Evening had descended, and soon darkness would cover the city.
Artemis left the grounds of the Moonstone Blade Academy with heavy steps, his mind weighed down by what had just transpired.
Behind him, Luke Jones had picked up the knife. That single act sealed their fates.
One month from now, Artemis would either perish or rise, breaking the chains of his greatest humiliation.
The only way he could survive the duel was to awaken his Cosmo at last, to shatter the barrier that had resisted him for so many years, and finally wield the combat techniques he had only ever dreamed of.
Artemis clenched his fists. He had already made up his mind. At dawn tomorrow, he would journey to the Mistwoods Forest.
The Mistwoods Forest was no ordinary forest. It was infamous throughout Kora City as a land of peril, where cosmic energy was unusually abundant but equally dangerous.
Ferocious beasts roamed its depths, creatures far stronger and deadlier than ordinary cultivators.
For someone like Artemis, who had yet to awaken his Cosmo, stepping into the Mistwoods was no different from gambling with his life.
But what choice did he have? Whether it was tomorrow in the Mistwoods or one month from now against Luke, death waited for him either way.
If he could not awaken his Cosmo, he would never stand a chance.
"Perhaps only at the edge of life and death will I find the strength to break through…" he muttered to himself.
By the time Artemis returned to the Cassano residence, night had nearly fallen. The maids greeted him with smiles and informed him that dinner was ready, but Artemis could not bring himself to eat.
Appetite was a luxury he did not have. He excused himself and went directly to his room.
There, without delay, he sat cross-legged and began his nightly attempt at cultivation.
Drawing a deep breath, he sank into focus. The surrounding cosmic energy stirred and began to gather around him.
Thin threads of light poured into his body, seeping through his pores. The sensation was cool and refreshing, like countless tiny fish joyfully darting through water. A feeling of lightness enveloped him.
Tonight, however, was different. The energy came faster, denser, more vibrant than before.
Cosmic energy surged through his meridians, which quivered under the strain. His thin meridians stretched and widened, toughening under the influence of the thick, flowing currents.
The speed of expansion alarmed him. His body trembled at the intensity, and a pang of fear crossed his mind.
Quickly, he steadied himself, slowing the circulation of energy to prevent his fragile body from tearing apart.
When the energy completed its circuit, it returned and lingered at the edge of his core. Artemis grew tense.
This was the moment he had long awaited. The countless times he had tried. The countless times he had failed.
Carefully, he gathered the energy and pressed it toward the invisible barrier at the center of his being.
The cosmic energy flowed like a great river, streaming against the unseen wall. For the first time, Artemis felt it clearly, a flexible yet unyielding barrier that separated him from awakening his Cosmo.
"Break!" he urged silently, forcing more energy against it.
Bang!
The cosmic energy rebounded violently. Pain exploded through his body. His organs twisted, his chest lurched, and blood spilled from the corner of his mouth. His face turned ashen.
For a moment, fear gripped him. He had nearly lost control entirely.
Quickly, he steadied himself, guiding the remaining energy to mend his injuries. Warmth spread through his battered organs, slowly stabilizing them. His breathing calmed.
He tried again, but this time he diverted the energy away from the barrier. Instead, he sent it into his skin, his muscles, his bones. His body absorbed it eagerly, strengthening little by little.
Time slipped away unnoticed. The night passed in silence. Artemis did not sleep, but when morning came, he opened his eyes feeling strangely invigorated, not a trace of fatigue weighing on his mind.
Then, a foul stench reached his nose.
He looked down and froze. His body was coated in a thick, black, tar-like fluid that reeked unbearably. The impurities of his body, the waste expelled through cultivation, clung to his skin.
Artemis let out a bitter smile. "So, I wasn't completely useless after all…"
He quickly bathed, scrubbing away the grime until his skin felt new, then changed into clean clothes.
By the time he descended to the dining hall, the maids had already prepared a healthy breakfast.
This time, he ate heartily, savoring every bite. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to forget the troubles looming over him.
Once finished, Artemis instructed the maids not to prepare meals for him in the coming days.
"I'll be away for a while," he said simply.
The maids exchanged surprised glances. Usually, it was his uncle who traveled for weeks or months at a time, while Artemis stayed behind at home.
But now the young master himself was preparing to leave. They were curious, but none dared to pry. Artemis was sixteen, no longer a child. He had the right to make his own decisions.
Back in his room, Artemis gathered his supplies. He packed food, weapons, and medicinal pills for treating injuries. One by one, he placed everything carefully into his dimensional bracelet.
When he finished, he stood for a long moment in silence. There was no rush. Not yet.
Then he went to the courtyard and started by practicing simple fist techniques, nothing more than the plain basics he had once observed. Yet, with each motion, his fists no longer seemed ordinary.
They carried a weight, a sharpness, and an undeniable force, as if something wild and tyrannical had been awakened within them.
His hands shot out and drew back in steady rhythm: strike, pull, strike, pull, each movement flowing faster than the last.
The more he struck, the more exhilarated he became. His fists blurred through the air, wind whistling at every swing, and a heat began to build in his right hand.
It spread through his arm like fire racing through dry wood until his entire limb felt as though it was brimming with endless strength.
Driven by instinct, Artemis suddenly leaped upward, his body soaring into the air before crashing down with full force.
He channeled everything into a single strike, his fist slamming into the ground with merciless intent.
Boom!
The impact exploded with raw violence. Rocks shattered and scattered like glass under a hammer, fragments spraying in every direction.
A half-meter hole caved into the earth where his fist had landed, the ground itself scarred by his sheer physical power.
To any passerby, this might have seemed a monstrous feat, but Artemis knew better.
He had seen the strength of true cultivators, how their techniques carved gaping craters without leaving cracks, reducing stone to nothing but fine powder.
Compared to that, his blow was only a ripple in the ocean.
And yet, he was satisfied. In fact, he was more than satisfied. What made this moment extraordinary was not the result but the origin of it: he had used no combat technique, no refined skill, only his raw physical strength.
Many cultivators spent lifetimes chasing cosmic energy, but they could never wield such power with their bodies alone.
All this came from a single choice he had made just last night: instead of pushing his cosmic energy against the stubborn barrier of his core, he had redirected it into his skin, muscles, and bones.
The result was shocking. His strength had already reached this level in one night.
A thought struck him, and a fierce gleam lit his eyes. If I do this every day… if I continue to temper my body like this… then one day, I will become a monster in flesh, a living weapon of unimaginable strength.
After catching his breath, Artemis finally straightened. The satisfaction of progress still lingered in his chest, but his purpose was clear. He could not remain here, testing his strength forever.
There was somewhere he needed to be, a place that would challenge him and perhaps shape him further.
It was time.
Artemis turned toward the horizon. His destination awaited: the Mistwoods Forest.
Time to take his path that would lead into the Mistwoods. Whether he returned alive or not… only fate could decide.