Chen Ping moved like a ghost. He detached himself from the shadow of the great tree and tracked the fleeing Shenxiao disciple with the silent precision of a wolf stalking wounded prey.

His Divine Sense locked onto the chaotic, panicked aura ahead, even as his eyes scanned the perimeter for secondary threats.

The disciple was fast, but his terror made him sloppy. He left a trail a blind man could follow—snapped branches, erratic footprints, and the metallic tang of spilled blood hanging in the humid air.

Chen Ping maintained a disciplined distance, neither rushing nor lagging.

After tracking for the time it takes half an incense stick to burn, he heard the sounds of distress. Violent coughing. The ragged, wet gasps of lungs struggling for air.

The quarry had stopped.

Chen Ping drifted closer, peering through a screen of dense brush.

The disciple had collapsed against a large boulder in a rocky clearing. His face was the color of old parchment, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. His blue robe was shredded, revealing a silver inner armor spiderwebbed with cracks—the legacy of the giant frog’s crushing impact.

He was a wreck. He frantically shoveled pills into his mouth, his eyes darting around with the frantic energy of a cornered rat.

But his hand never loosened its grip on a mud-stained Storage Bag.

Inside was the Amethyst Flower.

Chen Ping’s eyes narrowed. No hesitation. No mercy.

He stepped out from the shadows, revealing himself.

“Who?!”

The disciple reacted instantly, jumping up like a cat on hot coals. A lightning-wreathed flying sword materialized in his hand, leveling at Chen Ping.

But when he saw the intruder—a mere Qingyun Sect Outer Disciple, radiating the pathetic aura of Qi Condensation Level 3—his terror transmuted into rage.

“Qingyun trash? Level 3?” He laughed, a wet, ugly sound. “You want to rob me?”

His eyes, filled with the venom of a man who had just cheated death, locked onto Chen Ping.

“An ant dares to stalk a tiger? Good! I have a belly full of fire and nowhere to vent it. I’ll use your blood to wash my sword!”

He didn’t even consider Chen Ping a threat. In his eyes, a Level 3 cultivator was an insect to be crushed underfoot.

He didn’t ask why an ant was so deep in the forest. He simply attacked.

CRACK!

The flying sword exploded with blinding electricity, shrieking through the air as a blue lightning bolt aimed straight for Chen Ping’s skull. It was a killing blow, designed to erase the nuisance instantly.

At the moment the sword launched, Chen Ping moved.

The mask of fear vanished from his face, replaced by the cold indifference of a glacier.

He didn’t dodge. He didn’t flinch. He simply raised his right hand.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

Three crimson talismans materialized in the air and ignited.

ROAR!

Three fire snakes, thick as barrels and composed of pure, concentrated flame, erupted from the void. The air warped instantly under the intense heat.

They didn’t aim for the sword. They ignored it completely.

Flying in a triangular formation, they dove straight for the disciple.

“What?! Tier 1 Top-grade Fire Snake Talismans! THREE of them?!”

The disciple’s sneer froze, shattering into pure horror.

A Level 3 trash? Throwing three premium attack talismans like they were scrap paper?

And he was ignoring the sword to strike the body!

Panic seized him. He frantically channeled his unstable Qi, pushing his protective aura to the limit while screaming for his sword to return.

It was too late.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The fire snakes slammed into him.

The explosion was deafening. A wave of fire swallowed the clearing.

The returning lightning sword was blasted out of the air, its spiritual light dimming as it clattered uselessly against the rocks. The disciple’s silver armor glowed red-hot before shattering. His protective aura popped like a soap bubble.

“PFFT!”

It was as if a giant hammer had slammed into his chest. The disciple vomited a spray of blood, his body rag-dolling backward into the boulder with a sickening crunch of bone.

He slumped to the ground, eyes wide with the realization of his own mortality.

This isn’t Level 3.

This monster is hiding his strength!

But Chen Ping wasn’t done.

He raised his left hand. Three more talismans flickered into existence.

Cold, golden light.

Tier 1 Top-grade Golden Needle Talismans.

Thwip-thwip-thwip!

Dozens of golden needles, fine as hair and designed to pierce energy shields, rained down like a metallic storm.

“NO!!”

The disciple screamed, channeling the last dregs of his Qi into his ruined armor.

It was futile.

Phhht! Phhht! Phhht!

The needles punched through the molten armor as if it were paper.

The disciple’s body jerked violently as he was turned into a sieve. Blood erupted from countless tiny holes, painting the moss red.

His scream cut off. His eyes dimmed, staring vacantly at the sky, filled with the shock of a predator who realized too late he was prey.

From Chen Ping’s appearance to the disciple’s death: four breaths.

Chen Ping didn’t look at the corpse.

He blurred forward, snatching the Storage Bag from the dead man’s grip. His Divine Sense swept the body—no trackers, no hidden traps.

He cast a fireball, incinerating the body to ash.

Then, he vanished.

He didn’t check the loot. He didn’t linger. He sprinted in a direction perpendicular to his arrival, putting miles between himself and the kill site.

Only after running for an hour did he stop, hiding in a deep rock crevice concealed by vines.

His heart beat steadily, but the adrenaline of the kill lingered.

He took a moment to center himself, then pulled out the bloodstained bag. The owner’s imprint had shattered with his death. Chen Ping swept it away and looked inside.

There it was.

A perfect, crystalline Amethyst Flower.

Alongside it lay a hundred Spirit Stones, some healing pills, and trash artifacts.

Chen Ping carefully transferred the flower to a jade box and stowed it in his own pendant.

One down.

Ten ingredients for one pill.

Chen Ping’s eyes glinted in the darkness of the crevice.

The Distant Spirit Realm was a slaughterhouse. But for a man willing to climb over corpses, it was a ladder to the heavens.

He swallowed a Qi recovery pill and closed his eyes.

One hour later, restored to peak condition, the hunter resumed his prowl.