Chapter 5 The Cultivator's Path

The Ironwood Forest was unlike any other place in the region. As far as the eye could see, towering black trees filled the land like an ocean made of shadows. These trees were called Black Ironwood, a rare and valuable plant. Each one stood tall with bark as dark as night and wood so tough it was harder than many metals. Black Ironwood didn't rot, didn't rust, and didn't break easily. That made it perfect for crafting magical swords, so the Azurelight Order and other sects often used it for their weapons.

But even though this forest was full of spiritual energy, no one liked coming here.

The reason was simple: dangerous beasts.

The Ironwood Forest stretched near the edges of the northern mountains, and just beyond those mountains were other, more remote peaks. Fierce beasts would often sneak down from those snowy heights, slipping into the forest to hide. While the sect did send patrols to hunt them, some always managed to escape notice. These beasts were not ordinary animals-they were wild, powerful, and deadly.

And the ones who had to work in the forest? They were just outer disciples, still in the early stages of their training. Most of them had only reached the Martial Realm, a stage where they trained their bodies and built a foundation, but had not yet stepped into the path of true cultivation. If one of these beasts attacked them, they had almost no chance to survive.

To make matters worse, this part of the forest was isolated. If something happened here if someone was eaten or killed no one would even know.

That's why the forest was seen as forbidden ground. All outer disciples, no matter how brave, stayed away if they could.

Silas Thorne, however, wasn't just any outer disciple. His eyes narrowed as he stood at the edge of the trees, his brow furrowed with concern. He had already experienced something like this when he first arrived at the Azurelight Order. It had nearly ended in disaster. But Silas wasn't like the others. He had lived a full life before this one-he remembered everything. In his past life, he had fought against disease and pain, and the strength he had built then stayed with him even now.

Even so, Silas had to ask himself: Why send me here? What did I do to deserve this?

But then, slowly, a cold gleam came into his eyes. His lips curled into a determined smile.

"No matter the reason," he whispered to himself, "I'll face it. If trouble comes, I'll meet it head on. You'll regret ever trying to harm me."

The wind howled through the forest, sweeping over the black treetops like waves on a sea. Silas stood in front of a small wooden hut near the tree line. This would be his home for the next year. He opened the creaking door, and the smell of dust and mold filled his nose. The place was old, broken down, and full of cobwebs. No one had lived here in a long time.

He picked up a firewood knife that lay near the entrance and stepped outside, heading into the heart of the forest.

Soon, the massive Black Ironwood trees loomed before him. Some were so wide it would take three or four people linking arms just to circle one trunk.

Silas paused, staring at them with a sinking feeling. "How am I supposed to chop that down?" he muttered.

He smacked his forehead, feeling embarrassed. I don't need to chop down the whole trunk, he reminded himself. Even the branches weigh a lot. That should be enough to meet the daily quota.

The sun was still low, morning mist rising in soft curls between the trees. Dew glistened on the leaves, like little drops of crystal. But Silas didn't have time to enjoy the beauty of the forest. If he didn't cut at least one hundred pounds of firewood, he wouldn't get anything to eat today.

He spotted a tree with a large branch not too high up. With a quick leap, he climbed onto it. Standing on the thick branch, he aimed carefully, then swung his knife.

CLANG!

The sound echoed through the trees like metal hitting stone. Silas's hand shook from the impact. "That hard, huh?" he winced, looking at the tiny white scratch he had made on the branch.

The tree was harder than iron.

Still, he kept going.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

The forest filled with the strange sound of metal on wood.

By noon, Silas had only managed to gather a few small branches. They were scattered on the ground beside him as he leaned against one of the massive trees, exhausted. The Ironwood Forest was now quiet-no birds chirped, no insects buzzed, and the sound of chopping had stopped.

Silas drifted off to sleep.

A breeze rustled the trees around him, but strangely, the one Silas leaned against didn't move at all. Its leaves stayed perfectly still, as if frozen. A faint turquoise glow began to shimmer from the bark. Slowly, the light flowed toward Silas, seeping into his skin.

Before long, a cocoon of glowing turquoise energy had formed around him.

The Black Ironwood tree beside him began to change. Its glow faded. Its leaves wilted. Its trunk started to lose its shine, its aura draining away.

The powerful tree... was dying.

And all of its spiritual energy was being drawn into Silas.

In his dream, Silas swung his knife again and again, cutting through trees like they were nothing. He was strong. Too strong. It didn't feel real.

When he finally woke up, the sun was already setting. Golden light filled the sky, and the air felt cooler.

"Damn it!" Silas jumped up. He had fallen asleep, and now there wasn't enough time to finish collecting firewood. He looked at the few small branches beside him and sighed.

"Well, guess I'm going hungry tonight..."

But then he paused. His eyes widened.

His body felt light. Too light. His muscles didn't ache. In fact, he felt... stronger.

He picked up the firewood knife again and slashed at the nearest Ironwood tree.

Clang!

This time, a small crack appeared in the bark.

Silas stared in disbelief. "That... that shouldn't be possible. My strength it's grown at least thirty percent!"

Just the night before, he had jumped from the third level of the Martial Realm to the fourth, after absorbing a burst of spiritual energy during meditation. He had nearly exploded from the power rushing into him. But the rewards were worth it.

Now, after a single nap, he felt even closer to the fifth level.

"What's going on with me?" he whispered.

Silas looked down at his clothes simple, rough robes with nothing special about them. "I don't have any magic treasures... but I must have something."

He didn't know it yet, but when he had fused with the remnant soul inside this body the leftover piece of the original Silas Thorne his own soul had changed. Something inside him now had the power to devour aura from other living beings.

The ability wasn't under his control yet. But once it was...

Even he couldn't imagine how powerful he might become.

He turned back to the tree he had been leaning on. His heart skipped a beat.

The tree was smaller.

Its bark looked faded, its strength gone.

He placed his hand on the trunk and could feel it-its aura was mostly gone. Silas had absorbed it.

He had drained the tree dry.

"If I can absorb spiritual energy from a tree... could I do the same to people?" he whispered, the thought sending a chill through him. "Could I drain a cultivator's Spirit Core in battle?"

It was a terrifying idea. And yet... the possibilities were endless.

He stood in silence for a long time, staring into the forest, before finally shaking his head.

"This path isn't going to be easy," he murmured. "But I'm not fragile. I'm not weak. Whatever this power is, I'll learn to control it."

There was still time before nightfall. Silas tightened his grip on the knife and looked for more branches.

He had a new goal now.

He wouldn't just survive.

He would rise.

And no one no beast, no elder, no disciple would stand in his way.

But deep within the Ironwood Forest, something had felt the loss of spiritual energy.

Far away, hidden in the shadows of the tallest trees, a pair of glowing yellow eyes opened.

Something ancient... had awakened.