Aelric slowed his pace and gradually came to a stop, shifting from running to a calm, steady walk as he headed toward the village ahead. Pale moonlight spilled down from the sky, softly lighting the narrow dirt path before him. The forest behind remained dark and restless, but the faint glow of lanterns in the distance marked the presence of human habitation.
At the village entrance stood two guards, spears resting in their hands. A tall fence made of sharpened wooden logs surrounded the entire village, forming a crude but effective barrier to keep wild beasts from wandering inside at night. As Aelric approached the main gate, the guards straightened and raised their voices.
"Who goes there?"
Aelric stopped a short distance away and replied in a calm, even tone, "A wandering martial artist. I wish to rest here for the night."
The moment the guards heard the words martial artist, their expressions eased. In this world, someone with strength was both a deterrent to danger and a reassurance of safety. They did not press him with further questions. One of them nodded, and the gate was opened just enough to let him pass through.
Inside, the village was quiet and modest. Most of the shops had already closed for the night, their wooden doors shut tight. Only a few food stalls remained open, lanterns hanging from their beams. Groups of men sat around rough tables, eating simple meals and chatting about the day's work. Laughter was low, voices relaxed—ordinary people trying to find peace at the end of a long day.
Compared to Yunlai Village, this place felt small and plain. The streets were narrower, the number of shops far fewer, and the houses were built with simpler materials. Even the craftsmanship showed a clear difference; everything here felt like a step down, both in scale and refinement. Aelric took in these details silently as he walked, his expression unchanged.
Soon, a two-story building came into view near the center of the village. It stood out clearly from the entrance, making it easy to find even for newcomers. A wooden sign hung above its door, bearing the name Iron Fist Inn. Aelric headed toward it, already deciding to spend the night there.
As he arrived in front of the inn, his gaze shifted slightly to the side. Not far away stood another compound, larger and more solidly built. A sign marked it as the Iron Fist Sect. From its position and structure, Aelric easily guessed its role.
He recalled what he had learned in the Azure Heaven Sect's library.
Every village in this world depended on a governing sect—whether a martial arts sect or a cultivation sect. Ordinary mortals could not survive on their own in such a dangerous land. Wild beasts, bandits, and wandering cultivators made isolated settlements easy targets. Because of this, villages were often built near sects, relying on their strength for protection.
In return, villagers paid taxes and provided services. Talented children might be taken in as disciples, while others served as attendants, cooks, or cleaners. It was a system that had existed for countless years, shaping the balance between mortals and those who pursued strength.
With these thoughts passing quietly through his mind, Aelric turned his attention back to the inn.
——
Aelric pushed open the wooden door of the inn and stepped inside.
Compared to the quiet streets outside, the inn was lively and warm. The air was thick with the smell of cooked meat and strong alcohol. Low voices filled the hall—men laughing, cups clinking, chairs scraping against the floor. A few lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting a yellow glow over the wooden tables and benches.
Aelric walked to the counter and placed three gold coins on the worn surface.
"A room for one night," he said calmly. "And a bowl of stew."
The innkeeper was a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and rough hands, clearly someone who had spent her whole life running this place. When she looked up and saw Aelric's face, she froze for a brief moment, visibly startled. It took her a second to recover.
"Y-Yes, sir," she said quickly. "A window room on the first floor. Will that be fine?"
Aelric nodded.
She handed him a wooden token with a number carved into it and pointed toward a table in the corner. Aelric moved there and sat down without a word.
He did not need food or rest to survive. His body could function without both for long periods of time. Still, he ordered the meal for a reason. Inns were places where information flowed freely. Loose tongues, careless words, rumors—sometimes even secrets—were often exchanged over food and alcohol.
He waited in silence.
Soon, the stew arrived. Steam rose from the bowl, carrying the scent of herbs and meat. Aelric began eating slowly. He did not rush. Though he did not rely on food, his senses still worked perfectly. Taste still existed. It was simply that, until now, he had never been in the mood to enjoy it.
Around him, conversations continued. Most were ordinary—complaints about work, gossip about neighbors, stories of hunting or trading. Nothing unusual.
[Hmm… it's not that good], Hex's voice sounded in his mind.
Aelric ignored him and continued eating.
Just as he was about to finish his meal, the atmosphere inside the inn shifted.
The door opened again.
Four figures walked in—three teenage boys and one teenage girl. They wore the same robes, dark in color, with the image of a tiger embroidered on their chests. The moment they entered, the noise inside the inn noticeably dropped.
Several people lowered their voices. Some avoided looking in their direction altogether.
A man who had been sitting near the window quickly stood up, grabbed his belongings, and left without a word. The four newcomers took his place, as if it were something that happened often.
Aelric glanced at them briefly, then looked away.
They ordered food and alcohol in loud voices. As the cups emptied and refilled, their conversation grew cruder and less restrained.
One of the boys laughed and said, "Even though she looks filthy and keeps begging outside our sect gate every day… she's still a beauty."
Another scoffed. "You're interested in someone from the streets?"
The first boy grinned. "Why not? I'll use her for a few nights, then kill her. She's been begging our sect leader for years anyway."
A third boy leaned forward, his face twisted with drunken excitement. "If that's the case, I want a turn too. I wonder how loud she'll scream."
The girl, clearly drunk, shifted her gaze and landed it on Aelric. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment before she laughed.
"I want that man instead," she said lazily. "I'll make him my personal dog. Look at that face… I want to put a leash on him and keep him all to myself."
One of the boys immediately laughed. "If senior sister wants him, I'll bring him to you. It's an honor for him to become your pet!"
He was about to stand up when the third boy—who had been silent until now—grabbed his arm.
"Enough," he said coldly. "The sect leader warned us. No trouble. If you cross the line again, he won't forgive you."
The second boy clicked his tongue and leaned back. "Tch… what a mood killer. We were just joking."
Their laughter resumed.
Throughout all of this, Aelric remained unmoved.
He felt no anger. No disgust. No hatred.
To him, their words were nothing more than noise. He had seen all kind of beings and these people were insignificant—unworthy of his attention.
Finding nothing of interest, Aelric stood up, left a few coins on the table, and walked upstairs to his room.
The noise of the inn faded behind him as he closed the door.
For now, there was nothing here worth remembering.
——
Aelric stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind him. The room was simple and clean, almost empty. There was only a single wooden bed placed beside the window, a small table, and an old lantern hanging from the wall that gave off a faint yellow glow. Cold night air slipped in through the slightly open window, carrying the distant sounds of insects and the quiet breathing of the village outside.
He sat down on the bed and let his body relax. With a thought, he took out the book Jian Wuhen had given him from his storage ring. The title "Blazing Divine Fire Arts" was written in bold characters on its cover. Aelric opened it and began reading while slowly recovering his essence, his breathing steady and controlled.
The book started from the very basics. It first explained the concept of constitution—a natural body type that martial artists and cultivators were born with. Constitutions could not be created artificially, nor could they be changed easily. They were gifts decided at birth. Some were blessings that allowed a person to grow at terrifying speed, while others were curses that came with heavy prices. However, one thing was common among them all: a constitution gave its owner a natural and powerful affinity toward certain martial arts or divine techniques.
As Aelric read further, the book listed several rare constitutions. One such example was the Heavenly Killer Star Physique, a terrifying constitution that granted its possessor endless inner energy. However, this power came at the cost of lifespan. Every time the user drew deeply on that power, their life burned away faster. The book warned that those who possessed such a constitution had to carefully decide when to use it, or they would die long before reaching their full potential.
The next section focused on the requirements for cultivating the Blazing Divine Fire Arts, described as one of the highest-ranked fire-based martial techniques. To practice it, one needed either a Supreme Yang Physique, which could only appear in males, or the extremely rare Perfect Harmonious Physique. The technique relied entirely on Yang qi, a type of energy that females could not cultivate. Because of this, the book clearly stated that most women were completely unable to practice fire-based supreme arts.
In contrast, the book also briefly mentioned the Divine Ice Arts, the highest-ranked ice technique, which required a Supreme Yin Physique—a constitution found only in females. Males were unable to cultivate Yin qi and thus could never practice such techniques. However, everything changed if one possessed the Perfect Harmonious Physique. A person with that constitution could cultivate both Yin and Yang qi without conflict, backlash, or imbalance. Such a physique was described as almost mythical, something most people would never encounter in their lifetime.
Detailed diagrams filled the pages, showing the circulation of energy through the body, the flow of Yang qi through the meridians, and the dangerous points where a single mistake could cripple or kill a practitioner. The explanations were thorough, precise, and clearly written for serious martial artists.
After that, the book moved on to the actual energy circulation technique of the Blazing Divine Fire Arts. Aelric read every line carefully, committing the knowledge to memory. By the time he reached the final pages, he had a complete understanding of constitutions, qi, and how fire-based techniques functioned at a fundamental level.
In the end, Aelric closed the book with a calm expression.
He now knew for certain that he could not practice this martial art. Even if he wished to, his body did not possess a dantian like cultivators or martial artists. Instead, he had an innate core with a completely different foundation. While he could manipulate his internal structure to some extent, he could not generate or circulate Yang qi in the way this technique required. His power followed laws different from this world's cultivation systems.
That was also why techniques like Divine Traceless Steps suited him. It did not rely on Yin or Yang qi, nor did it demand a specific constitution. It was purely a movement art—one that aligned perfectly with his nature.
Aelric placed the book back into his storage ring and leaned slightly against the bedframe. His eyes drifted toward the window, where moonlight spilled quietly into the room.
This world truly had many paths to power.
——
Moonlight spilled quietly across the small village, painting the narrow streets in pale silver. From the window of his room at the Iron Fist Inn, Aelric stood still, his gaze drifting over the rooftops and dirt paths below. The village had already fallen mostly silent. Lanterns were being put out one by one, doors closed, and the night insects had taken over the sounds of the streets.
That was when his eyes caught movement.
Four figures were walking toward the Iron Fist Sect's outer gate.
Three young men and a young woman.
They were the same people he had seen earlier in the inn.
Aelric's gaze sharpened slightly as he followed them from above. Their steps were unsteady, their laughter low and careless. They did not head inside the sect. Instead, they stopped near the main gate, where the stone road met the dirt street.
There, curled against the wall and half-covered by a torn blanket, lay a woman.
She looked thin and dirty, her hair messy and unkempt. She had been sleeping on the roadside, using the wall of the Iron Fist Sect as shelter. Before she could even fully wake, one of the young men kicked her leg.
"Get up, filthy thing."
The woman cried out in pain and fear, scrambling backward. Another man grabbed her arm and yanked her up roughly. She tried to scream, but a slap cut her voice short.
At first, it was only beating.
Fists, kicks, laughter.
The woman's cries echoed through the quiet street, sharp and desperate. Yet no doors opened. No lights turned on. The nearby houses remained silent, as if the village itself had chosen not to see.
Then the nature of the violence changed.
One of the men twisted her arms behind her back, forcing her to her knees. Another grabbed at her clothes, tearing the already worn fabric apart. The sound of ripping cloth rang out loudly in the still night.
The woman screamed again, louder this time, her voice breaking.
The young woman among them watched with half-lidded eyes, a lazy smile on her lips. She said nothing, only laughed softly as if this were nothing more than entertainment.
The men tore away the remaining cloth until the woman was left naked beneath the moonlight. She shook violently, trying to cover herself, her body trembling from fear and cold. Tears streamed down her face as she begged incoherently, her words slurred by sobs.
One of the men grabbed her chest, squeezing roughly, laughing as she cried out in pain. Another leaned close, whispering filthy words into her ear. She struggled weakly at first, then less and less, until her body seemed to go slack.
Her screams faded into broken sobs.
From the window above, Aelric watched.
His face showed no anger. No pity. No disgust.
His crimson eyes were calm, distant, as if he were observing something unrelated to himself. Slowly, he turned his head away from the window.
He was not a righteous man.
He had never claimed to be a hero.
If something did not concern him, he would not act. That was his rule. Simple and absolute.
Yet—
He stopped.
Aelric turned his head back toward the scene below.
For the first time, a faint change appeared on his face.
Not rage.
Not sympathy.
A flicker of Surprise.
And then,
A faint, almost unnoticeable smile touched the corner of his lips.
In the next instant, his figure blurred.
The room was empty.
A breath later, Aelric stood in the street.
He had appeared directly in front of the four youths without making a sound. No footsteps. No wind. No warning.
The laughter died instantly.
The men froze as if a blade had been pressed against their throats. None of them had sensed his arrival.
Aelric stood there calmly, his black robe untouched by dust, his eyes cold and steady beneath the moonlight.
His gaze passed over the men, then briefly over the trembling woman on the ground.
Finally, he spoke.
His voice was low, flat, and completely emotionless.
"Stop."
The four of them stared at him in shock.
One of the men recovered first and shouted angrily, his fear turning into arrogance.
"Who the hell are you, bastard?!"
The night fell silent once more.
And this time, the silence felt heavy.