Another two months slipped by.

  Within Fenglin City, Chen Mo’s wanted posters still clung to the stone walls, their edges curled by wind and sun. Search teams continued to sweep through the surrounding wilderness and mountains, though the urgency had long since faded. What had once been a heated hunt had cooled into routine patrols.

  Only Deng Wu still believed Chen Mo might be alive. The others had already written him off as another nameless corpse claimed by the wild.

  Even within the sect, life moved forward without pause. Chen Mo’s name gradually blended into a growing list of wanted disciples and fugitives, his poster no longer special, no longer fresh. Time had a way of burying people before they were ever found.

  Meanwhile, Li Yuxue advanced with astonishing speed. In just eight months, she broke through to the 3rd level of Qi Condensation, her progress unprecedented among her peers. Even Sheng Xia, who had already entered the Inner Sect, regarded her with optimism. Using her status and influence, Sheng Xia successfully brought Li Yuxue into the Inner Sect as her attendant.

  This arrangement was not made lightly. Sheng Xia’s master had personally approved it, having noticed Li Yuxue’s potential. With the backing of an Inner Sect elder, her path had opened smoothly.

  While Chen Mo cultivated in silence beneath a hidden lake, the sect flourished, alliances formed, and talents rose.

  The world had not stopped for him.

  Today, Chen Mo opened his eyes, and a visible golden glimmer flickered within them like sunlight caught in molten metal.

  He had succeeded.

  The first stage of the Spatial Dominion Art was fully mastered. He had stepped into the second stage.

  Within him, his Sea of Consciousness expanded once more, reaching a full 6 li in radius. When he entered it, he could clearly see the change. The once-thin golden threads of space-attributed qi had grown thicker, denser, pulsing with quiet strength. They no longer drifted aimlessly. They responded.

  When Chen Mo returned to his physical body, he slowly turned his gaze toward the opposite shore of the lake, roughly half a li away.

  He did not move.

  He only thought.

  Space folded.

  His body vanished without sound. In the next instant, he appeared on the far shore as though he had always been standing there.

  For a brief moment, he stood frozen. Then realization struck him like lightning.

  He had just performed true teleportation.

  A wave of exhilaration surged through him as he sensed a portion of the golden space qi within his Sea of Consciousness being consumed. It was not insignificant, but it was manageable. The cost matched the distance.

  He could not hold back his laughter. It echoed across the quiet lakeside, sharp and unrestrained.

  After calming himself, Chen Mo’s eyes gleamed with calculation. Through his Sea of Consciousness, he could now faintly perceive the spatial nodes embedded within the fabric of the world, subtle anchor points that defined position and distance. As long as a location lay within his spiritual sense range, he felt he could reach it.

  He then retrieved the two spatial pouches he had plundered earlier. One belonged to Deng Li. The other to He Kai.

  With his new perception, he did not even need to open them. His senses slipped past their surfaces effortlessly. He saw two intricate miniature formations inside each pouch, delicate inscriptions anchoring small independent spaces roughly three zhang wide.

  Chen Mo focused.

  The pouch from Deng Li contained 100 spirit stones, some rations, and miscellaneous items.

  The second pouch held 150 spirit stones, a middle-quality spirit weapon, numerous clothes, a booklet, and daily necessities.

  Before attempting anything risky, Chen Mo carefully removed all valuables. He was cautious by nature. Only spare clothes were left inside both pouches.

  Then he began his experiment.

  Using his spatial perception, he gently pried at the anchored space, attempting to create a small opening directly through the fabric.

  To his surprise, it worked.

  Encouraged, he tried to teleport the remaining items directly into his hand. But this time, he applied too much force. The fragile internal space trembled violently. The anchoring formation flickered—then snapped.

  The miniature space collapsed inward, severed from its inscriptions. Everything inside was swallowed into spatial turbulence and vanished.

  In his hand, the pouch remained intact. From the outside, it appeared completely normal.

  Chen Mo stared at it in silence.

  A spatial pouch… empty, yet structurally sound.

  He had just destroyed a pocket space from the inside.

  Chen Mo did not stop.

  He turned to the second pouch and repeated the process, this time with absolute precision. His spiritual senses slipped between the inscriptions like a thread through silk. He located the anchored pocket space, stabilized its edges, and carefully parted a seam within it.

  Slowly. Gently.

  Moments later, he stood there holding the clothes he had left inside, seamlessly extracted without opening the pouch at all.

  The pouch itself remained intact.

  Chen Mo’s breathing grew heavier, not from exhaustion, but from realization.

  The implications were terrifying.

  Resources would no longer be an obstacle. He would not need to bargain, compete, or even fight for them. If necessary, he could simply reach into another’s spatial pouch without their knowledge. Silent. Untouchable.

  For the first time in many years, a genuine, unrestrained optimism rose within him. The future no longer felt like a narrow cliff path. It felt… open.

  But he stopped experimenting. There was something more important now.

  Rank 2 of the Primordial Body Art.

  And the key to it slept beneath the lake.

  Chen Mo sat cross-legged and began circulating his qi, restoring himself to peak condition. His Sea of Consciousness slowly replenished its golden space-attributed qi. The headache faded. His breathing steadied.

  He would not fight the beast conventionally.

  He would kill it with space.

  One strike. One opportunity. No margin for error.

  An hour later, Chen Mo stood at the lakeside. His spiritual senses extended downward, penetrating nearly 3 li beneath the surface, locking onto the massive scaled python coiled in slumber.

  Then he acted.

  The golden energy within his Sea of Consciousness began draining at an alarming rate. Vast amounts of space-attributed qi gathered at a single point in the lake’s depths.

  A splitting headache erupted in his skull. His vision blurred.

  But he did not stop.

  Above the python’s head, space itself distorted ever so slightly. A minute fold compressed inward, tightening, condensing, causing the surrounding water to tremble with faint vibrations.

  The python’s eyes snapped open.

  It sensed something. A fluctuation. But its instincts found no tangible threat. No qi pressure. No hostile aura.

  Confusion flickered in its vertical pupils.

  Before it could react further, the compressed fold of space collapsed inward.

  There was no explosion. No dramatic display.

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  The distortion struck directly inside its skull.

  In an instant, the python’s brain and inner cranium were pulverized into pulp. Its massive body stiffened mid-motion, then went still.

  It never understood how it died.

  The moment the python’s life flickered out, Chen Mo collapsed.

  He clutched his head as if it were splitting apart. The Sea of Consciousness within him felt scorched and hollow, the golden threads dimmed to near extinction. He couldn’t even force his eyes open. The world spun once… then dissolved into darkness.

  When he awoke, three days had passed.

  His lips were dry. His limbs felt heavy. Slowly, painfully, he raised a hand to massage his throbbing temple. Each pulse of pain reminded him of the price he had paid.

  This move… he thought inwardly, breathing carefully. It’s far too taxing. A strike like that can only be used as a trump card… at least until I grow stronger.

  The Spatial Dominion Art was terrifying, yes. But its consumption was equally terrifying. Had the python been stronger, or had he hesitated a fraction of a breath, the backlash might have destroyed him instead.

  After stabilizing his condition and circulating his qi for a while, Chen Mo finally stood. He retrieved some of the preserved rations he had long ago taken from the spatial pouches. After eight straight months of eating raw fish, even dry, bland food tasted like a banquet.

  When he finished, he exhaled deeply and glanced toward the lake.

  Then, without hesitation, he leapt in.

  The cold water embraced him as he dove downward, his spiritual senses guiding him unerringly to the massive corpse resting in the depths.

  It was time for the real feast.

  The corpse was colossal.

  Even divided in two, the scaled python was like dragging a fallen pillar from the depths. Chen Mo exerted tremendous effort to slice it apart, the blade of his middle-quality flying sword grinding against resilient scales. One sword cracked under the strain. The second fractured along its edge. The third barely endured long enough to finish the separation.

  Water pressure meant nothing to him now. But weight… weight was honest.

  By the time he hauled the two massive halves onto the shore, his arms trembled and his breathing grew heavy. The beast was truly monstrous.

  After resting briefly, Chen Mo did not hesitate. In fact, he was impatient. The imbalance between his powerful Sea of Consciousness and his current body was growing more uncomfortable by the day. His flesh felt like a vessel too small for the storm within it.

  He could not delay any longer.

  Standing beside the python’s corpse, Chen Mo began performing the stances described in the second chapter of the Primordial Body Art. His breathing deepened, shifting into the ancient rhythm recorded within the jade slip. Each inhalation drew in the lingering vitality of the slain beast. Each exhalation hammered his muscles like a forge bellows feeding a furnace.

  His skin flushed red. Veins surfaced like coiled cords. His bones began emitting faint cracking sounds.

  Then—

  His consciousness was drawn once more into the panel’s mysterious inner space.

  There, he saw himself training endlessly. Years folded into decades. Decades into centuries. Each repetition of a stance refined to perfection. Each breath condensed into something denser, purer, more violent.

  Time became meaningless.

  And then—

  His true qi roared.

  Back in the real world, Chen Mo’s body convulsed as a deep, thunderous resonance burst from within his bones. His muscles swelled violently, expanding as if an ancient giant were awakening beneath his skin. His spine straightened with a sharp crack. His frame broadened.

  His height surged past his previous stature until he stood nearly two meters tall, muscles bulging like forged steel beneath taut skin. Every fiber of his body felt compressed with explosive strength. His heartbeat was no longer a pulse. It was a drumbeat.

  The breakthrough had arrived.

  Rank 2 of the Primordial Body Art.

  His flesh now rivaled Foundation Establishment cultivators. His bones felt like tempered iron. His blood surged like molten metal through reinforced veins.

  And then came the hunger.

  It was savage. Primal.

  Without a second thought, Chen Mo lunged toward the python’s corpse and tore into it with his bare hands. He devoured the raw flesh greedily, uncaring of blood or taste. Each bite dissolved into pure vitality, flooding his newly strengthened body with nourishment.

  He ate like a starving beast reborn.

  The lake shore fell silent except for the sound of tearing flesh and steady, powerful breathing.

  Chen Mo was no longer the frail fugitive who had stumbled into this valley.

  He had forged himself into something else.

  When the hunger finally faded, Chen Mo slowly rose to his feet.

  Blood covered him from head to toe, thick and dark, streaked across bulging muscles and hardened skin. He looked less like a cultivator and more like a war-born beast that had crawled out of a battlefield.

  He clenched his fist.

  Power surged through him. Not the fleeting sharpness of qi alone, but the deep, grounded strength of flesh tempered beyond mortality. He could feel it clearly: the current him could crush his former self with a casual swipe. No technique required. No calculation. Just force.

  True qi flared around his body instinctively, spiraling in dense currents.

  And then—without conscious effort—his feet left the ground.

  Chen Mo blinked in surprise as his massive frame rose steadily into the air. No artifact. No external support. Pure bodily power harmonizing with qi.

  His instincts spoke before his thoughts did.

  He was no longer merely a Qi Condensation cultivator strengthened by technique.

  He had stepped into the realm of Foundation Establishment.

  With one exception.

  He was a body-refining Foundation Establishment cultivator.

  A rare path. A brutal path.

  He willed it—and his body flashed. In a blink, he hovered above the center of the lake, steady as a mountain, light as mist. The air resisted him no more than water resisted a fish.

  For a heartbeat, he stood there in silence.

  Then he began to laugh. Loud. Unrestrained.

  The sound rolled across the lake like thunder, wild and triumphant. Eight months of isolation. Eight months of raw fish and silent cultivation. Hunted. Cornered. Forced into survival.

  And now this.

  After a while, he descended and plunged into the lake. The cold water washed away the blood, the scent of violence, the remnants of gluttony. He scrubbed himself thoroughly, letting the tension drain from his muscles.

  When he emerged onto the shore, something extraordinary happened.

  His towering, muscular frame began to compress. Muscles shrank without losing density. Bones adjusted with subtle shifts. Height lowered. Flesh tightened.

  Within moments, he stood once more in his former proportions.

  But it was not a regression. It was control.

  He could now manipulate every muscle fiber, every bone alignment, every subtle contraction of his body.

  When he finally dressed in a clean set of clothes, Chen Mo appeared no different from a quiet, scholarly youth. Calm eyes. Neat bearing. Refined posture.

  Only the stillness around him betrayed the truth.

  Beneath that modest exterior stood a body capable of shattering mountains.