The forbidden land's thick fog lingered year‑round, like a dark veil separating life from death.
Lin Chen propped himself up with his single arm and slowly rose. The poison in his chest was suppressed by his true essence, dark blue veins crawling faintly beneath his skin. Every breath brought a bone‑chilling cold. Though his face was pale, his spine remained straight, his eyes as calm as a frozen pool, without a ripple.
Behind him lay the cold corpse of the betrayer, a mark of humanity's darkness.
Ahead lay the end of the mist, the world beyond.
He did not look back, nor did he linger.
Having survived the fall of Canglan Academy, the loss of his arm, and the poisoned blade's betrayal, he understood that dwelling on the past was the most useless thing in the world. Surviving, finding an antidote—this was his only obsession now.
He took a step forward.
True Martial essence stirred silently, parting the fog before him without fanfare. No earth‑shaking phenomena, no overwhelming aura—only a lonely figure walking steadily through the dead silence.
Deep within the mist lay scattered bones and beast remains, the stench of decay thick in the air. Lin Chen paid no heed, his gaze fixed on the faint light ahead, his steps firm and unhurried.
True essence circulated gently within him, holding back the poison while nourishing his broken body. The missing arm and creeping venom did not panic him; instead, they deepened his calm.
Pain was tempering. Desperation was cultivation.
After an unknown time, the fog thinned, and sunlight poured down.
A fresh breeze carried the scent of grass and trees, chasing away the cold of the forbidden land. Lin Chen paused, lifting his gaze. Outside, ancient trees towered, green and lush, full of life.
Yet he felt no relief.
The poison in his chest clung to him like a maggot. Without an antidote soon, once his true essence ran out, he would die.
He quickly oriented himself, his figure turning into a faint shadow as he sped toward the faint smoke rising in the distance.
It was a human settlement—a small town on the edge of the wilderness.
Only there might he find herbs to suppress, or even cure, the deadly poison.
The sun set, painting the sky red.
Lin Chen's figure emerged from the dense forest and finally reached the town's outskirts.
Its walls were broken, its roads worn. Passers‑by hurried, their eyes guarded and indifferent. This was a typical town in chaotic times—brutal, lawless, yet holding a thread of life.
He stood at the entrance, his one‑armed frame thin, clothes stained with blood, face pale, dark blue poison veins faintly visible on his neck. Passers‑by glanced at him, but none dared approach.
Lin Chen's gaze swept calmly over the town. Without hesitation, he stepped inside.
Seeking the antidote.
These two words were his only purpose now.
The road ahead was unknown, filled with hidden danger.
But he had no choice.
Only by surviving could he avenge. Only by surviving could he defy fate.
Within the town, a storm was about to rise.