Night had already fallen outside, but rest never crossed Li Yan's mind.

  There was no satisfaction—only momentum.

  He still had another ability to explore. One far more intricate. One far more elusive.

  Phantom Mirage.

  Unlike Shadow Manipulation, which dealt with form and flow, this next ability reached beyond control—into perception itself. This wasn’t just darkness. It was an illusion, a delicate dance between what was real and what was believed.

  Li Yan drew in a deep breath and lifted his hand. Darkness Qi surged to his palm, not to form weapons or shields this time, but to gather above it—condensed into a small orb, dense and pitch-black.

  Its surface shimmered like liquid void, devouring even the faintest light around it.

  This wasn’t about shaping the element. It was about distorting the truth.

  Without hesitation, he crushed the orb between his fingers.

  It burst with a soundless implosion, releasing a cloud of thick, ink-like mist that slithered outward in all directions. Five meters around him, the darkness pulsed—not violent, but alive.

  Curious. Testing its freedom.

  And then… it vanished.

  Dissipated. Ineffective.

  Li Yan didn’t frown or sigh. He simply tried again.

  Then again.

  Each attempt refined the flow of Qi, smoothing turbulence within his spirit, honed his focus until his intent was razor-sharp—until the line between himself and the darkness blurred completely.

  He wasn’t controlling it anymore. He was becoming it.

  And then—it clicked.

  The mist darkened. Thickened. No longer formless fog—it now pulsed with condensed energy, responding to the rhythm of his will. The temperature shifted. The air trembled. Reality began to bend.

  A low hum rippled through the silence—and a second Li Yan stepped forward beside him.

  Not a ghost. Not a flicker. A mirage with substance.

  It mirrored him flawlessly—the still rhythm of his breath, the subtle lean of his stance, even the faint glint in his eyes. It was perfect.

  Then came more.

  The room twisted. Stone became shattered ground. The scent of blood filled the air. Distant war cries shook the air. Shadows clashed in brutal combat—steel against bone, fists breaking earth, Qi tearing through air.

  The floor quaked beneath his feet, fissures opening as smoke hissed from below.

  None of it was real. And yet—it felt real.

  The illusory battlefield pulsed with sensation. He could feel the tremors underfoot, the warmth of phantom blood splashing his skin, the metallic tang stinging his nose. It was flawless deception—born of resonance, not trickery.

  Li Yan pushed deeper, refining every detail of the illusion.

  Whispers slithered through the haze: a flicker—something crawling across the far wall. Nothing was there, but his instincts recoiled regardless.

  His pulse quickened. For a split second, his mind believed. He narrowed his eyes, steady and sharp.

  Then—with a single wave of his hand—the illusion shattered.

  The battlefield collapsed. The howls vanished. The silence returned, heavy and complete—as though the chamber itself had exhaled after holding its breath.

  Stillness. Reality.

  Li Yan stood unmoving in the fading mist of Phantom Mirage. A slow breath escaped his lips.

  "…This is dangerous," he murmured, voice low but clear. "Even I started questioning what was real."

  He understood now. This wasn’t merely an illusion—it was deception on a fundamental level. It could twist perception, turn fear into chaos, and bend enemy instincts against themselves—a trap for the mind.

  But this… was only the beginning.

  He turned slowly, eyes narrowing with thought. "I won’t know its real power… until someone falls into it."

  Its true potential couldn’t be tested in solitude. It needed an opponent—a mind to break.

  He stepped forward. The mist had faded, yet the air still trembled—thick with the echo of warped reality. And so did he.

  Next, Li Yan turned his attention to the third ability tied to his Superior-Level Darkness affinity—one that demanded more than focus or illusion. This one required force.

  Umbral Density Suppression.

  With a flick of his fingers, he summoned his sword from the storage ring. The blade emerged from the scabbard with a soft hum, catching the faint glow of the Qi lamps that lined the chamber walls.

  This wasn’t about illusion or trickery. It was about weight—about suffocating presence, compressing Darkness Qi until it crushed resistance itself. A power meant not to confuse the mind, but to overwhelm body and spirit alike.

  He already understood the natural hierarchy—Superior-Level elemental Qi held inherent dominance over normal elemental Qi. But channeling that dominance through a weapon—refining it into a focused, stable force—demanded absolute precision.

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  He began slowly.

  Darkness Qi flowed from his Qi Core, surging into the sword. The moment it touched the metal, it twisted violently, scattering like black mist over the water.

  Li Yan’s eyes narrowed. "Too unstable."

  He stilled his breath, centering himself.

  This time, he didn’t force the Qi outward. He compressed it inward—layer by layer—until it clung to the blade like a living shadow. He no longer imagined Qi flowing into the sword. Instead, he envisioned the sword becoming an extension of his Darkness element.

  The temperature in the room dipped. The sword grew heavier in his grip.

  Darkness thickened along the blade’s edge, coating it in a deep, ink-black sheen. It wasn’t glossy, but dense—like a storm sealed beneath the surface. The air shifted, pressure building as the weapon pulsed with restrained might.

  He didn’t swing the sword. He didn’t need to.

  The mere presence of the blade distorted the shadows around him—subtle ripples spread across the chamber, bending the light like heat over scorched stone.

  If unleashed through a strike… it would not only surpass Nightfall Slash, the Mortal-Tier Low-Level darkness technique he had already mastered, but would be several times stronger than Nightfall Slash.

  "This…" he murmured under his breath, "…is something greater."

  The sword no longer contained Qi—it wore it. Condensed. Lethal. Patient. Not an illusion, but pure, elemental oppression.

  When the pressure reached its limit, Li Yan slowly exhaled.

  Halted his practice, Li Yan released the condensed Qi with a casual wave of his hand. The darkness dispersed soundlessly, leaving behind only silence and the faint chill of dissipated power.

  He sheathed the sword and returned it to his storage ring, exhaling softly. "Any further… and I might destroy this place."

  His gaze swept across the chamber. A long crack now stretched across one wall—likely a remnant of his earlier Phantom Mirage experiment. He had pushed the living space close to its limit. There was no point in tempting collapse.

  Besides, these techniques—this power—were never meant to be confined within walls. They were meant for battle. And he already knew the perfect place—the hunting grounds.

  A place to test himself against beasts, time, and the limits of his own strength.

  Because true mastery of a Superior-Level element wasn’t just about power, it was about restraint. About timing. About knowing when to release destruction.

  Still… a question lingered. Were only these three abilities granted to those with a Superior-Level darkness affinity?

  He had discovered Shadow Manipulation, Phantom Mirage, and Umbral Density Suppression through the ancient book.

  But what if there were more? Hidden abilities not written in words, but waiting to be discovered through experience? Techniques that could only be born from intuition—his intuition.

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that he stood on the edge of something greater—that every step into the unknown would uncover fragments no one else had seen.

  By the end of his practice, the aura surrounding him had changed. It was thicker, heavier. The air itself felt heavier—drawn toward him, pulled by the density of his growing power.

  He could feel it. The Darkness within him… was evolving. Sharper. Colder. Hungrier.

  Not just a part of him—it was becoming him.

  But this was only the beginning.

  He couldn’t afford satisfaction or complacency. The path ahead would be long, twisted, merciless, and filled with unseen trials.

  And he had only just scratched the surface.

  With a final look at the room, Li Yan finally let the tension drain from his shoulders. "No point in pushing further tonight. It’s already late," he murmured—calm but firm.

  He needed rest—not just for his body, but for his spirit.

  Tomorrow, he would go to the Hunting Ground to practice further.

  Li Yan retired to bed. His mind grew quiet, but his spirit coiled—resting only in form, not in will. Even as the night deepened, he allowed his thoughts to fade into stillness, preparing for the battles to come.

  *****

  The first rays of dawn stretched across the sky as Li Yan stirred awake. His body felt light, his mind razor-sharp—rested, ready. After a quick bath, he donned his white sect robes and stepped out in silence, moving through the quiet morning air.

  The sect’s grounds were hushed, the tranquility of early morning disturbed only by a few diligent disciples busy with morning routine or tending to the herb gardens. A cool breeze drifted past, carrying the scent of dew-soaked leaves and robes of those who passed.

  On his way to the teleportation array, Li Yan stopped briefly at a small food stall near the training pavilion. He exchanged Shadow Points to receive his supplies—Tier-3 beast meat, fine rice sealed in bamboo tubes, and water flasks.

  Pills weren’t needed—his last hunt had hardly used any, and the rest still rested in his storage ring.

  He approached the teleportation portal, and it buzzed faintly as he stepped onto the portal. A flash of light, and he vanished.

  When he reappeared, he stood amidst the misty expanse of the hunting ground.

  Crisp morning air filled his lungs, scented with dew, pine, and the faint musk of distant beasts. Sunlight pierced drifting clouds and tangled branches, scattering broken patterns of light across the moss-coated trail ahead.

  At the entrance of the hunting ground, a glowing leaderboard caught his eye.

  1st – Li Yan Tian – Qi Gathering Realm (Stage-7) – 1,473 Hunts

  He raised a brow—Mu Fan had climbed from 914 to 1,036 in just a day. A steady improvement, but still far behind.

  Li Yan’s goal was different: to collect one thousand Tier-1 beast cores. Mundane in task, yet meaningful in purpose—today’s hunt was for control, pressure, and mastery of the darkness he’d learned to navigate.

  He slipped into the hunting ground’s deeper paths, his movements fluid and soundless. The dense foliage closed in around him; shadows thickened, and the air grew damp. Every root and branch seemed to pulse faintly with hidden life.

  Then, movement caught by his Spiritual Sense.

  A shimmer between twisted roots—a coiling form emerging from the dark. A Blue Venom Snake slithered forward, its sapphire scales reflecting the morning light. Its tongue flicked, tasting the air, and a low hiss escaped its throat.

  Fast. Venomous. Aggressive. Perfect.

  The snake lunged, fangs flashing dark venom.

  Li Yan didn’t retreat. His hand rose calmly, fingers brushing the hilt of his sword.

  Umbral Density Suppression.

  Darkness Qi surged through his veins, flooding into the blade in an instant. The blade darkened, not with illusion but with true elemental compression. The surrounding light bent toward it, drawn in by the oppressive density of his energy.

  He moved.

  A single swing. No sound.

  A pitch-black arc erupted, silent and smooth—like a shadow slicing through light. It met the snake mid-air and split it cleanly in two. The remains thudded to the ground, lifeless.

  The arc continued its path, cutting through five thick trees beyond. Each groaned, cracked, and collapsed into the dirt.

  Li Yan stood still, eyes glinting faintly in the aftermath. "So this is Superior-Level darkness…" he murmured. "Not mere suppression—pure destructive amplification."

  Every ounce of resistance was erased before it could take form.

  He knelt, checked the corpse. No core. With a flick, he stored the remains in his ring and moved on. The hunt had only just begun.

  The hunting ground’s shadows seemed to flow around him now, bending to his will.

  Over the next hour, beasts fell one after another beneath his blade. But what drew his focus wasn’t the hunt—it was his own darkness. Each strike felt sharper, heavier, the techniques more seamless and lethal.

  "So this is the harmony between weapon and element," he thought, pausing briefly beneath an overhang. His violet eyes gleamed faintly. "Not just strength—precision. Control."

  A faint smile tugged at his lips. He pressed forward, deeper into the hunting ground.