The Shallow Night had not yet arrived. Everything was wrapped in thick, oppressive darkness. Dense woods flanked both sides of the road, branches reaching out wildly in the whistling cold wind like fields of swaying ghosts.
In this deep night, Qin Ming swung his blade decisively. A bolt of lightning seemed to cleave through the gloom, instantly shattering the suffocating atmosphere that had settled over them.
The black mist struck at that very moment, surging toward them with heavy malice, trying to engulf them both in a vast expanse of shadow.
In this starless, moonless environment, anyone else would have noticed nothing at all. But Qin Ming saw everything clearly—and could feel the black mist's bone-piercing chill as it drew near, an icy coldness that cut straight through flesh.
With a hiss, like a hot knife slicing through butter, the mineral-coated short blade plunged into the black mist, making the frigid cold seethe and boil.
"What's happening?!" Old Liu shouted, his reflexes shockingly fast. In the same instant, he drew his thick-backed great cleaver and swung it toward the void, following Qin Ming's lead.
Yet his blade sank into the black mist as though striking empty air—it hit nothing at all.
"Fall back!" Qin Ming yelled.
At the same time, he heard a piercing scream—utterly wretched—as the black mist began condensing rapidly, taking on a human shape.
Old Liu was remarkably obedient. He instantly withdrew his blade and bolted without hesitation.
He could see nothing and hear nothing, had no idea what was happening. But his instincts told him something was gravely wrong.
A man emerged from the black mist. His human silhouette was somewhat blurred, but Qin Ming's sharp eyes could make him out—a young man, his face contorted in agony, his cold, sinister eyes fixed on Qin Ming.
Qin Ming's short blade had already sliced into the creature's body. The mist-formed being was bleeding profusely, dark blood spurting onto the ground.
This sight changed Qin Ming's expression.
The young man opened his mouth and exhaled a cloud of black mist, which condensed into an ink-dark arrow that shot toward the space between Qin Ming's brows—cold, eerie, carrying a bone-deep chill.
Qin Ming tilted his head, dodging the mist-formed arrow, while simultaneously vibrating the mutton-fat jade iron blade with fierce intensity. Every trace of mineral paint adhering to it shattered and fell away.
All of this happened in the span of a lightning flash. The black mist struck silently; Qin Ming countered with a backslash; the suddenly materialized man counterattacked instantly, trying to kill him—there was no lag in any of it. Both had reacted at the very first moment.
Qin Ming sensed mortal danger. He might actually die. This unknown creature brought a formless oppression that made him feel death's breath for real.
But as he vibrated the blade, things changed rapidly. The bone-freezing mist rushing toward him, the extreme cold that cut to the marrow, began to weaken with astonishing speed.
In the darkness, the blade's brilliant white light surged upward like raging fire, illuminating the entire stretch of forest.
The mutton-fat jade iron blade in Qin Ming's hand—once its paint was shaken off—was utterly different when facing this kind of creature.
During this struggle, the mist-formed young man naturally retreated, trying to escape the blade. But when the blade-light blazed like flame, his form twisted and shuddered uncontrollably.
"Stop..." he screamed in agony, struggling desperately to re-mistify and rise into the air. He failed.
How could Qin Ming stop? He noticed that the blood the young man spilled onto the ground vanished with the wind like ash—not real human blood at all.
What in the world was this thing?
The young man could scarcely believe it. In such a remote backwater, a chance encounter with a teenage hunter had produced a mutton-fat jade iron blade.
He could no longer mistify. Using every ounce of strength, he retreated in human form, trying to break free of the bonds holding him, to get away from that radiant blade.
Qin Ming had forged this blade but never used it before—he had no idea of its properties. Now, after striking this inexplicable creature, he discovered its wondrous use.
His Heaven Light Force could flow smoothly into this blade. With any other weapon, at his current level, that would have been impossible.
Of course, his Heaven Light Force was far less damaging to the young man than the mutton-fat jade iron blade itself. But it allowed him to employ various techniques—such as the adhesive property of his Heaven Light.
Qin Ming swung the mutton-fat jade iron blade. White light surged, wrapping around the young man who was trying to break free, engulfing him as though burning a ghost.
"No—stop!" the young man screamed in terror, struggling violently.
But how could Qin Ming dare stop? He didn't even know what kind of monster this was. If he let it escape, he himself would be in mortal peril.
The young man raised his hands and opened his mouth several times, trying to launch black mist attacks at Qin Ming, but each time the blade-light burned them to nothing.
His entire body blazed with fire. This was no longer a hot knife cutting through butter—it was more like a red-hot blade plunging into dry grass, igniting it all.
Qin Ming deployed the Severing Force. The mutton-fat jade iron blade tore through the young man's body in all directions, setting fires everywhere. And whenever the black mist churned and the young man desperately tried to break free, Qin Ming shifted to Coiling-Silk Force and Adhesive Force, locking him down tight.
Clearly, when Heaven Light pierced through the night and descended upon these spiritually resonant mountains, the mystical products it nourished all contained unfathomable power.
In that moment, Qin Ming deeply understood what Cao Long, Mu Qing, and the others had said.
The mutton-fat jade iron blade radiated brilliant light, suppressing the mist-formed man completely.
In the distance, Old Liu's hair stood on end. He couldn't see a thing—only Qin Ming's snow-white short blade glowing, then turning into what looked like a torch.
"How come I'm completely blind to all this?"
Hearing his words, Qin Ming immediately realized the mist-formed young man was even more terrifying than he'd imagined. Ordinary people couldn't perceive him at all—how could they possibly fight him?
The young man was in despair. His entire body was burning, and he couldn't break free.
"In the age without a sun, traveling after reaching this level should have been safe. How could I meet my end in a place like this..." He was in agony, and naturally didn't want to die like this. Weighing his options, he had to make a sacrifice.
"Are you one of those invisible beings that even the great families fear?" Qin Ming demanded.
"I'm not one of those things—I'm human! Stop and listen to me!" the young man cried.
The moment Qin Ming heard this, his blade struck even harder. He unleashed the blade manual's techniques inside the man's body—horizontal cuts, vertical chops, diagonal slashes—executing the blade-intent recorded in the manual.
The mist-formed man desperately wanted to curse. How was it that claiming to be human only made things worse?
"Someone like you is more terrifying than any ghost!" Qin Ming said.
"I'm Beyond the Pale—" the young man shouted desperately.
He panicked, but there was no time left. His body was about to be completely consumed by the firelight radiating from the mutton-fat jade blade.
Qin Ming found it absurd. His blade had sliced through the man's skull multiple times, yet the creature was unharmed. It was the blazing light that would finally burn him to death.
Boom!
At the last moment, the man self-detonated. Abandoning his dense yin-mist body, a scrap of cloth wrapped around a tiny essence of his being, breaking free and trying to fly up into the night sky.
But he was far too weak. When he activated the strange cloth, his speed was much slower than usual.
Qin Ming's reflexes were lightning-fast. One slash caught the cloth and knocked it down.
"Hmm?" He found the palm-sized scrap of cloth undamaged. Though it had fallen, it still wrapped a wisp of black mist and was trying to rise again.
Qin Ming deployed his adhesive Heaven Light, pulling it back, then drove the Nail Force in—the blade tip slipped through a gap where the cloth wasn't fully wrapped.
"Ah—stop! I'm Beyond the Pale—" the young man screamed, but it changed nothing. The last of his yin-mist was burned clean.
The palm-sized cloth drifted to the ground. The mist-formed young man seemed to have never existed at all.
Gripping the mutton-fat jade iron blade, Qin Ming's expression was grave. He'd guessed the young man's nature—he was likely one of those "Beyond the Pale."
This was different from what he'd imagined. The other wasn't some invisible, uncanny "thing," but a real human—yet in a very peculiar state.
"Are people Beyond the Pale really this hard to deal with?" Qin Ming's heart grew heavy.
The man could actually fly, and ordinary people couldn't see him. How was one supposed to fight that?
Old Liu had struck the man with his thick-backed cleaver earlier, but it was like cutting air—completely useless.
Qin Ming stood motionless, his expression more solemn than ever. Because one of his opponents was also Beyond the Pale.
That night, the feathered youth who'd led others to burn an entire village—if he walked this same path, he would certainly master these abilities too. Perhaps even stronger, far surpassing the dead young man.
Earlier, Qin Ming had been elated by his rapid growth, feeling he'd achieved something remarkable in a short time. But now, as cold wind drove snowflakes into his face, he came back to his senses. He couldn't be complacent. He needed to become stronger still.
Because the great power he would face in the future was profoundly mysterious and unfathomable.
Qin Ming thought about why the silk tome had appeared. It was because several elders had felt the path they walked still had many shortcomings. They joined forces to deduce new methods, hoping to rival the most brilliant traditions.
"The methods of those Beyond the Pale are truly mysterious and terrifying," Qin Ming murmured to himself. His road was still long, and he needed to take it one steady step at a time toward greater heights.
"Is it dealt with? What kind of monster was that? I was completely blind—didn't even see a ghost's shadow." Old Liu came over, his great cleaver in hand.
"A person Beyond the Pale," Qin Ming told him.
"That's... quite a background!" Old Liu's expression turned serious. They'd actually crossed paths with that kind of person.
Qin Ming lifted the scrap of cloth with the mutton-fat jade iron blade and channeled his Heaven Light Force. The blade glowed bright white, but the cloth showed no response.
Old Liu's emotions churned. Young Qin before him felt somehow unfamiliar—forging such an extraordinary blade, and killing an invisible person Beyond the Pale.
But he was old. Having guarded the Black-White Mountains for so many years, he'd heard of too many abnormal events. His composure returned quickly.
Qin Ming examined the cloth scrap on the blade carefully. It was clearly no ordinary thing—metal threads were woven into it, embroidered with cloud patterns, and there were probably other designs, but the scrap was too small to make out the full picture.
"Should we head back to the village?" Old Liu asked.
Qin Ming shook his head. "Let's go to Silver Elm Town first. Get some breakfast, then visit the household we arranged to meet."
Old Liu said: "Don't you need to go home and recover a bit? You're really not worried?"
Qin Ming shook his head again. "What is there to recover from? Those mysteries and unknowns remain ununderstood only because my strength is still insufficient. Going to borrow the secret manual now is precisely how I improve myself—stepping solidly onto the path."