Chapter 31: The Path of Cultivation

But at this moment, facing Luo Ling’s storm-like assault, he appeared overwhelmed and utterly disheveled.

“Ha!”

Luo Ling let out a low shout, his figure suddenly accelerating.

The longsword shot out like a venomous snake from its lair, striking at an unimaginable angle.

“Pshhh!”

The sword tip stopped precisely one millimeter before his opponent’s throat.

The icy blade made his adversary shiver involuntarily.

He collapsed to the ground, pale-faced, gasping for breath.

Luo Ling slowly withdrew his sword.

His movements were smooth as flowing water, without the slightest excess.

He glanced at his fallen opponent, his eyes utterly calm—neither joy of victory nor pity for his foe.

“You lost.”

He spoke quietly, his tone as unshakable as stating a fact.

Silence filled the crowd of onlooking trainees.

Everyone was shaken by Luo Ling’s strength and that chilling aura.

In just a year, the once unknown newcomer had utterly crushed all competition to become the undisputed number one in the training camp.

Barton stood not far away, arms folded, watching Luo Ling’s back with a complex expression.

He had seen Luo Ling’s talent, his effort—and also the growing coldness and… aura of death in his eyes.

Serena was present too.

She sighed softly.

“His progress is too fast, but also too dangerous. The fire of hatred in his heart is devouring his emotions.”

Luo Ling paid no attention to the gazes around him.

He walked to the edge of the field, picked up a towel, and wiped the sweat from his face.

Then he began gathering his belongings.

“Luo Ling!”

Barton approached.

“Your basic training is complete. Both swordsmanship and magic have reached the standard for graduation. What are your plans next?”

Luo Ling raised his head, his gaze drifting toward the distance, as if piercing through the forest to a village he could never forget.

“I’m going out.”

He said.

“I’m going to hunt monsters. I’m going to find the source of all this.”

“You’re still too young, and not strong enough.”

Barton frowned.

“The outside world is more dangerous than you think. Those powerful monsters, those enemies hiding in the shadows—are not something you can handle now.”

“I know.”

Luo Ling’s eyes showed no hesitation.

“But I have to go. My path was set from the very beginning.”

His tone was calm, yet carried an unyielding resolve.

—

Every night when darkness fell and the other trainees were deep in sleep, Luo Ling would return to the training grounds once more.

Moonlight spilled across the empty field, outlining his tall and solitary figure.

He no longer practiced swordsmanship or meditated on magic—he simply stood silently, gazing at the broken moon on the horizon.

At some point, a small, smooth Wooden Tag appeared in his hand.

On it, crudely carved with a simple knife, were two crooked characters—“Eve.”

Cold moonlight shone on his face.

His once warm eyes now held only icy determination and burning fire.

He knew.

From the moment he set foot on this path, the Luo Ling who once longed for ordinary happiness had died.

What lived now was a shell born for vengeance, fighting for strength.

The Foundations of Sword and Magic had already taken shape in his hands, and the road ahead would be filled with thorns and blood.

But he had no choice, nor any regret.

He tightened his grip on the Wooden Tag, his knuckles turning pale from the force.

Then, he carefully tucked the Wooden Tag close to his chest and picked up his sword once more.

Under the moonlight, the sword gleamed like an undying star.

The journey of the hero Luo Ling had only just begun.