At the top of massive, jagged hills stood a young man, silent and unmoving.
Below him lay countless lifeless bodies. Immortals were scattered across the land like fallen leaves, their corpses broken, burned, pierced, or crushed beyond recognition. The battlefield no longer carried the dignity of war—it was simply a graveyard soaked in blood and lightning residue.
The young man stared down at the scene with an utterly expressionless face.
In his hand, he held a small gemstone, its surface tightly sealed within layers of metal. The metal casing shimmered faintly, engraved with defensive runes, as if protecting something dangerous hidden within. Not a single emotion crossed his eyes as he surveyed the devastation.
This man was Wo Shong Tin.
Wo Shong Tin was born within a sect of the Region Continent, a land ruled by strength and hierarchy. From birth, he was known as fierce, possessing a natural talent so terrifying that even immortals feared provoking him. His soul was sharp, aggressive, and unyielding—something elders recognized early but could never fully control.
He had always wanted to stand at the top.
That was his dream.
To rise above all others and make his clan proud.
Yet reality was cruel. To him
Compared to the Ten Geniuses of this generation, Wo Shong Tin was still lacking.
This was a new era—an era of peak talents that surpassed what was once considered greatness. The soul force energy of these geniuses was typically nine or ten, with extremely rare cases reaching eleven. Only seven or eight people in the entire world possessed eleven soul force energy.
But even eleven paled in comparison.
Because above it existed twelve soul force energy, a realm so rare it bordered on legend.
Wo Shong Tin's gaze shifted toward the battlefield locked inside the Pillar of Lightning.
The battle there was reaching its conclusion.
Wei and Zhou once allied with the Bronze Holder, believing that cooperation would secure survival. They were wrong. Both died at the hands of Hing and Hong, the infamous battle twins. Even then, the Bronze Holder did not show mercy.
Hing was pierced through by the Bronze Holder's spear.
He died a painful death.
Hing had only reached Little-Grade Immortal, Stage Three, far weaker than even a solitary elite. Yet fate twisted strangely. Later, Hing encountered Hinari Turin. Through desperation and cunning, he managed to kill Turin, heavily injure Hinari, and escape with his life.
Elsewhere, the Woman of Peace faced Hong Wei, a powerful Little-Grade Immortal. Despite his strength, he was completely outmatched. He died beneath her hands, unable to resist.
In the end, only a few figures truly dominated the battlefield:
The Woman of Peace.
Magman.
The Future Overlord.
Lord Singing.
Lillian Weil.
Yet Wo Shong Tin might have been the most dangerous among them.
His soul core formation was abnormal—capable of blocking nearly any incoming attack. Worse still, it allowed him to create creatures forged entirely from metal, living constructs that obeyed his will absolutely.
Wo Shong Tin was tall, with vibrant golden eyelashes and piercing golden eyes. He wore a black-and-white tunic with loose sleeves, a black belt tied around his waist. His black hair reached his back, stirring in the wind.
Beneath him stood a massive wolf made entirely of metal, glowing red along its surface.
Mounted upon it, Wo Shong Tin slaughtered countless immortals.
He leapt from the metal beast, raised his hand, and slammed it downward. Behind him, vermillion birds formed from metal and soul energy descended, tearing into immortals below.
Bodies fell in droves.
Wo Shong Tin thought calmly:
I need to ally myself with either the Future Overlord or the Woman of Peace.
His gaze sharpened.
Magman?
No. He needs four people just to fight the Future Overlord. I don't even understand how he ranks among the top ten geniuses.
His lips tightened.
I am far better.
Wo Shong Tin raised his arm. His sleeves and belt fluttered violently as he summoned an artifact. Sparks ignited in the air—agonizing, crackling flashes of power.
A small gauntlet landed in his hand.
He smiled faintly.
I need to speak with Father in the Soul Realm… about taking the mountain.
He returned the gauntlet to his soul realm and seated himself atop the massive metal wolf once more.
The battle is finished, he thought.
Far above the Pillar of Lightning, the Ruler of the Region Continent raised his hand.
The three pillars shook violently.
Bone-like chains shattered and dissolved into white light, collapsing alongside the lightning pillar itself. The ruler lifted his gaze, his presence pressing down upon the battlefield.
The battle reached its end.
Magman was thrown more than sixty yards, crashing near a hill. He forced himself up, summoning another sphere and hurling it forward.
"Take this!"
The Future Overlord dodged. The ground beneath him exploded.
Both stopped.
Magman collapsed to one knee, breathing heavily.
damn it, I lost my wind artifact.
The Future Overlord snorted. He summoned the deity before him and pulled it back into his soul realm, where it entered his stomach. As he walked away, a cold flash appear hidden beneath the wooden mask.
Lord Singing lay broken on the ground, bleeding everywhere.
She died there. Alongside Lillian Weil who have already fallen.
Magman stood, turned away from their corpses, and swore vengeance.
The immortal crowd advanced slowly. Only the Woman of Peace and Wo Shong Tin remained mostly unharmed.
The Ruler of region continent raised his hand.
Five Rank-Five Sage Artifacts descended. With light shining each of them
"These are your rewards," he said lightly
As he point one finger down
The ones who will received a sage artifact are ….
"Future Overlord. Woman of Peace. Wo Shong Tin. Bronze Holder. Magman."
M
White light engulfed the artifacts. The Overlord's expression lit up as he poured his soul energy into them, smiling with anticipation.
Hehehe… excellent. This artifact will be invaluable. I must train and refine its weaknesses, or every immortal will die in my next battle… so annoying!
Magman received his artifact, bathed in golden light, and absorbed it into his Soul Realm.
The Ruler of the Region Continent observed the weary crowd with a faint smile, impressed by their ferocity despite their exhaustion.
You all are terrifying… even as Little-Grade immortals, and not the strongest of your generation. But nothing compares to Mortal Tribulation…
The Overlord then summoned multiple sheets of thin paper, handing them out to each immortal.
"These contain information on Awaken Mountain. Six realms, survival guides, and tips for enduring the trials ahead," he instructed.
Future Overlord nodded, carefully storing the paper in his Soul Realm. Each immortal bowed respectfully, acknowledging the gift.
The Overlord turned his back on them.
"Now that I have rewarded you five," he said, "I will assign each of you a team. The team that proves most deadly, kills the most mystical beasts, will dominate. Find artifacts for my daughter, and ensure they are the best. The continent will collapse in one month. Hurry."
The immortals nodded in unison.
"Yes, Supreme Elder!"
The Overlord gave one last glance, then flew away, leaving a trail of authority and silent warning.
"Do not blame me for being ruthless," he called back. "I reward only those who survive!"
Far away, atop a jagged, rocky mountain scarred by time and battle, Mingyin sat cross-legged. The moonlight glinted off the deep scratches and scattered stones that covered the peak, reflecting faintly in the black liquid that oozed from cracks beneath his feet. His gaze was fixed on the dense forest below, each tree a shadow, each shadow a potential threat—or opportunity.
Around him, the night was silent, yet every rustle of leaves, every whisper of the wind carried meaning. All creatures had gone to rest; all but him. His clone stepped forward, moving with the effortless grace of one who had trained in the art of deception, a sly smile flickering across his lips.
The ground beneath Mingyin seemed alive. The black liquid pulsed faintly, a subtle trap waiting to be sprung. He held a rope in his hand, coiled and ready, the end disappearing into the darkness below. High above, a figure appeared—a man descending through the sky, the Supreme Elder of the Region Continent himself. Middle-aged, with an aura that radiated authority and lethal experience, his gaze pierced downward, furious.
"So… you are the one who disobeyed my orders!" the Supreme Elder roared, his voice echoing across the mountains and valleys.
Mingyin did not flinch. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight. Calmly, almost lazily, he raised a fist.
"Come," he said, his voice quiet yet carrying the weight of death itself, "fight me, Supreme Elder."
The Supreme Elder sneered. "You are merely a Sage Artist. What can you do against a Peak Artist? Against me?
Mingyin's lips curved into a faint smile.
Come up you bastard don't tell me you are pissing to death because of me "
The Supreme Elder's eyes narrowed. He glanced around the terrain, assessing, calculating—but impatience overtook caution. His green sleeves fluttered as he launched forward, striking the ground with overwhelming force. The mountain trembled under his aura, and even the air seemed to shudder. As soul flew toward the air
Mingyin remained seated. His calmness was unnerving. Slowly, deliberately, dark liquid spread across the ground around him, pooling into irregular patterns.
Suddenly, from within the shadows of the black liquid, a small scorpion emerged. Its armor was dark and fleshy, almost grotesque, and its tail arched like a coiled blade. Without hesitation, it struck at the Supreme Elder's hand. With a evil inten
A roar of pain tore through the night as the Supreme Elder slammed his fist down, crushing the scorpion into a bloody, mangled mess.as blood seep from it flesh
"Ahhhhhh!" he shouted, trying to steady his breathing, rage flickering across his face as he bite his hand trying to calm himself down as he look down with a mad epression .
Mingyin's eyes, calm and calculating, followed every movement. Pity mingled with amusement. To the world, this should have been an impossible trick—no mortal had ever successfully baited an immortal in such a way. Yet here it was: a mortal, cunning beyond comprehension, had outmaneuvered a being of legendary experience.
The Supreme Elder froze, realization dawning too late.
A mortal… using strategy, cunning, and artifacts… he isn't relying on strength. He's exploiting my weaknesses. This should be impossible.
Mingyin, however, felt nothing extraordinary. This was only the beginning. He had studied the Supreme Elder for weeks, mapping every habit, every predictable move, every strength and flaw. He had prepared a trap—not out of arrogance, but necessity. One wrong step, and he would have become nothing more than a pile of flesh.
His clone whispered from behind, voice low but clear: "It's not your fault, brat. You fell for the bait because you assumed a Sage Artist with no artifacts would fight you. You underestimated him. Foolish, yes—but expected." You too inexperienced
Mingyin's lips curved into a small grin. "Exactly as planned," he muttered softly.
The Supreme Elder's eyes widened, fury clashing with disbelief. "Help me! This… this is impossible!" he shouted, he could not belive he was deceived .
Mingyin's strategy was flawless. He had lured the Supreme Elder near a hidden nest—the Scorpion Nest Gem, one of the rarest and deadliest artifacts in the world. Only a immortal with extraordinary cunning could survive here, much less trap for Peak Artist. Who was even ruler of region continent
The Supreme Elder's gaze sharpened. "How… how did you—?"
Mingyin leaned forward, whispering with a calm, deadly precision: "I can show you the way to survive… but only if you reveal how much dangrouse the mountain is . You withheld the full truth from the others. You wanted them all to die, so their blood could fuel your Peak Artists to reach at Stage Five. Correct?" Ofcourse you needed them to go inside mountain to clear some level for you
The Supreme Elder froze, words caught in his throat. The audacity of this mortal—this Sage Artist—was beyond belief. Yet Mingyin did not smile out of pride. This was a calculation, nothing more. Every move was intentional, every deception precise.
He whispered once more, softer, almost contemplative: "I know your secrets. I know your traps. I know your intentions. Thank you for the information."
The Supreme Elder's expression twisted in shock, fury, and disbelief. He had been outplayed—not by another immortal, not by a Peak Artist, but by a mortal.
Mingyin leaned back, his calm smile unwavering. In the dark of the mountain, amidst the scattered stones and flowing black liquid, the air seemed to bend around him. He was a mortal, yes—but one who had mastered the art of survival, the art of foresight, and the art of deception.
And the Supreme Elder, the most powerful being on the Region Continent, had fallen