It was still dark when she left.
The village slept soundly, unaware that someone had already slipped through its quiet boundaries. There were no farewells, no notes, and no sound louder than the trails left behind her feet.
Su Lingxi didn't say anything to Su Yi or Chen Yu. There was no reason to. They wouldn't understand. Even if they didn't try to stop her, they would delay her, question her, and worry. She didn't have time for that.
He had made his decision long ago—back when he first heard the truth about this world. The moment he learned cultivators existed, that spiritual roots were real, and that people could become something more, he had already decided.
He would cultivate.
No matter how weak his body was. No matter how late he started. No matter the cost.
And now, the chance had come.
A few weeks ago, a merchant passing through the village had warned the locals about a sect near Iron Wind City—the Bloodblade Sect. His tone wasn't righteous; it was cautious. A warning born not from morals, but survival. "That place isn't for common folk," he muttered, eyes darting away. "Even if they offer you something valuable, best to stay far."
He wasn't criticizing them.
He feared them.
Ren listened quietly.
To everyone else, it was a threat.
To him, it was a map.
Bloodblade was exactly the kind of place he had been waiting for.
He didn't need virtue. He didn't want to kneel before righteous masters preaching about honor or tradition. In a sect like Bloodblade, there would be no rules binding him. No legacy weighing on his shoulders. Just power.
It felt familiar.
A place of fierce competition, enemies everywhere, where the weak were devoured the moment they slipped up—just like the corporate jungle he'd clawed through in his last life. Harsh, bloody, and merciless. But the rewards?
Worth it.
A place like that didn't care where you came from.
Only what you could become.
He wouldn't be protected, but he wouldn't be held back, either.
That was all he needed.
Su Lingxi wore a simple black robe that hid her figure. It wasn't tight or loose—just enough to keep people from noticing anything they shouldn't. Over her head, she wore a wide bamboo hat with cloth hanging down to cover her face. Not her chest, not her neck—just her face.
Because that was the real problem.
His face.
It drew attention, whether he wanted it or not. Attractive in a way that didn't feel like it belonged to him. People stared. Whispered. Remembered. It was the kind of face that made anonymity impossible.
So he covered it.
She carried only the essentials: a little food, water, and a few coins tucked into her sleeve. Nothing that would weigh her down. She'd travel on foot to Azure Fern Village, then catch a merchant cart to Iron Wind City. That was the plan.
He could have waited to leave with a caravan directly from Gentle Spring Village, but that would've meant asking Su Yi and Chen Yu. They wouldn't have agreed.
So he left early.
Before the sun rose. Before the birds stirred. Before anyone noticed she was gone.
At the edge of the village, she paused and looked back.
The roofs were still dark. No chimneys smoked. No one moved.
He wasn't sentimental. But a quiet part of him—cold, distant, buried—understood. This was a line that couldn't be uncrossed. Whatever lay ahead, there would be no return.
He turned away.
The path to Azure Fern was long but not difficult. A few hours' walk, if his body held out. He stuck to side trails and forest paths, avoiding the main road. Fewer people. Fewer eyes.
He didn't need trouble.
Not now.
Bloodblade wasn't like righteous sects—the ones that hosted grand ceremonies, tested talent in open plazas, and welcomed disciples with guided chants and ceremonial robes. Evil sects didn't have that luxury.
Only three types of people joined them: those without talent who couldn't make it elsewhere, those with grudges to settle, and those who wanted strength—fast.
He wasn't talentless.
And he wasn't chasing revenge.
But he did want strength.
And he wasn't afraid to bleed for it.
He stuck to the side trails, stopping as little as possible.
But his body was still weak—frail in a way no amount of effort had ever fixed. His skin remained pale, and his limbs lacked the strength he needed. Over the past thirteen years, he had tried to train. To exercise. To build something from what he was given.
But nothing worked.
Some days, his body responded. Others, it collapsed.
Today was one of the better days.
Even so, it still took him five hours to reach Azure Fern Village—a trip a normal person could finish in four.
He didn't complain.
That would be pointless.
He just endured it.
Azure Fern Village was nothing like Gentle Spring.
Gentle Spring sat quietly at the edge of a forest, forgotten by the world. A place where time passed slowly and nothing ever changed. Few merchants ever came. Fewer stayed.
But Azure Fern was alive.
The roads were wider. Packed firm by carts and constant steps. Stalls lined the edges of the main road, merchants shouting, children weaving between legs, the scent of cooked food drifting through the air.
Ren didn't linger.
He stopped briefly at the edge of town to rest under a tree. Then he slipped into the flow of people—face hidden, steps silent, posture unassuming.
It was his first time leaving the village.
And already, the world felt louder.
Wider.
More alive.
He used the moment to gather information.
He didn't speak much. Just listened.
To passing travelers. To shopkeepers haggling. To old men muttering over tea.
A few questions here and there. Nothing too direct.
And slowly, the picture became clearer.
The world of cultivation wasn't simple.
Sects weren't equal. They were ranked.
At the bottom were One-Star Sects. Small, unstable, with limited resources. Then came Two-Star, Three-Star, Four-Star, and Five-Star Sects—each tier stronger, wealthier, and more respected than the last.
The gap between a One-Star and Five-Star was enormous.
And beyond them, there were the Divine Sects.
They existed.
Ren hadn't heard much about Bloodblade. The name rarely came up. No concrete facts. Only whispers.
That told him enough.
A sect unknown to most likely wasn't powerful. A One-Star, maybe Two-Star at best.
That didn't matter.
Power didn't always flow from the top.
Sometimes it grew in the dark.
In places where ambition could fester freely. Where the rules were loose, and results were everything.
Cutthroat. Bloody. Unforgiving.
Just like the world he knew.
The Bloodblade Sect wouldn't protect him.
But they wouldn't hold him back.
And that was all he needed.
He also learned that sects weren't the only forces that shaped the world.
There were clans—powerful bloodline-based families with deep influence. Kingdoms, sprawling nations with armies and control over vast lands. And in between, there were organizations—groups that weren't sects, clans, or kingdoms, but still wielded influence through wealth, information, or blood.
A chaotic web of power.
Ren listened. Mapped it all out in his mind.
He was certain there were levels beyond even this. Forces the common people didn't know. Names never spoken aloud.
The way people avoided saying certain titles—it was enough to tell him:
This world was far, far larger than what he could see.
And he had only just stepped into it.