Chapter One: The Nine Mountains and Eighteen Veins

In the deep of night, thunder rolled endlessly as wind and rain lashed the land.

Halfway up the slopes of Mount Terror, mudslides raged and stones were hurled through the air. A ragged youth in tattered grey robes, after crossing mountains and valleys in desperate flight, had reached this place, only to be blocked by a torrent of floodwater ahead. He could go no further.

His name was Chu Feng—the only one ever to defect from the Gate of Terror for ten days and live.

Yet with floodwaters before him and pursuers behind, Chu Feng found himself in a dire predicament.

“Chu Feng, keep running! Why did you stop?”

A youth with a gilded folding fan and a sullen face stepped closer and closer. “Chu Feng! For the sake of your former status as a menial of our Gate, I’ll give you one last chance. Hand over your sister Xinlian to my elder brother, and I, Xiong Wu, will erase your crimes of arson and betrayal. Refuse, and I’ll let you taste the agony of being skinned and stuffed alive!”

“Chu Feng, be smart! Offer your sister to Young Master Xiong, and you’ll be one of us, free to stride across the Nine Mountains and Eighteen Ridges. Otherwise, you’re less than an ant!”

“Damn it, it’s just your sister! It’s not like we’re sending her to execution—she’ll marry into the Xiong family and want for nothing! Why can’t you give her to Young Master Xiong?”

Behind Xiong Wu, a band of fierce men armed with blades and spears closed in, threatening Chu Feng from all sides.

Chu Feng gazed at this pack of “beasts and birds,” wishing he could pluck a star from the heavens and crush them all.

“Chu Feng! Will you live or die? Speak!” Xiong Wu roared.

“Tell your brother: when you bring me your dog’s head as a betrothal gift, then let him come for my sister!”

No sooner were the words spoken than a surge of strength overtook Chu Feng. With a single mighty punch, a blast of force shot out a full ten feet at Xiong Wu!

A scream rang out—Xiong Wu’s head flew several yards away, blood spraying high from his severed neck.

To have slain Xiong Wu, who was at the second stage of Body Refinement and far stronger than himself, with a single punch left Chu Feng astonished.

Suddenly, exhaustion overcame him, his steps faltered, and he crashed heavily to the ground!

It was a hard fall. Chu Feng opened his eyes, sat up abruptly, and found his face drenched in cold sweat.

“So, it was a dream…”

Enduring the pain in his back, Chu Feng realized he’d been dreaming. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

The dream had felt utterly real—every detail vivid before his mind.

Steadying himself, Chu Feng hurried toward the edge of the cliff.

By now, the sun was rising, a pale light spreading in the east. Mist and clouds shrouded the mountains like a fairyland, and all was silent—no trace of pursuers from the Gate of Terror.

…

“Nine Mountains and Eighteen Ridges, countless perilous peaks, wild beasts and savage monsters at every turn. Even if the Xiong clan of the Gate can’t find me for now, how can I hope to survive in such a place?”

Chu Feng had not eaten for three days; his stomach growled with hunger, though his mind remained clear. “I must survive first. Only with strength can I deal with the Gate of Terror. Otherwise, my life could end at any moment, and I’d be less than an insect.”

The Nine Mountains and Eighteen Ridges were an endless primeval forest, vast ranges stretching thousands of miles. Four great powers ruled this land, ranked by might: the Nine Mysteries Sect, the Tianji Mu Clan, the Wind and Thunder Martial Pavilion, and the Gate of Terror.

Though the Gate ranked last and held the fewest resources, it was still a force that struck fear in all. The Nine Mysteries Sect was orthodox, the Tianji Mu Clan was bound by strict family laws, and the Wind and Thunder Pavilion honored martial virtue. But the Gate of Terror was made up of bandits and outlaws, led by the Xiong family, who were infamous for their brutality and bloodlust.

Chu Feng himself belonged to the Gate, serving as a laborer forging weapons. His younger sister Xinlian was a tea-picker, gathering mountain tea for the Gate.

For years, the siblings had kept to themselves and lived in peace. As Xinlian grew up, her beauty became apparent, though tea-pickers always wore veils to ward off insects while working in the mountains.

But fate took a cruel turn. One day, Xinlian removed her veil to drink from a stream and was spotted by Xiong Wei, the eldest son of the Xiong family, who rarely patrolled the mountains.

Though Xiong Wei had toyed with countless women, most were common and forgettable. To him, Xinlian’s innocence and beauty were precious beyond measure. He demanded Chu Feng hand over his sister, intending to claim her.

Refusing to let his sister fall into the hands of such a lecher, Chu Feng took a desperate gamble: he set fire to the camp, and under cover of chaos, fled the Gate with his sister.

Defecting from the Gate of Terror was a crime beyond redemption.

If caught, Chu Feng would be mutilated, blinded, doused in molten iron, skinned and stuffed while still alive, then fed to the man-bears raised for human flesh.

“The Gate has numbers and experts beyond counting. I’m only at the first stage of Body Refinement—how can I hope to escape their vengeance?”

Worried by his own weakness, Chu Feng paced by the cliff’s edge.

In the Nine Mountains and Eighteen Ridges, martial strength was all that mattered.

The path of the martial artist was long—ten stages of Body Refinement to begin with.

The first five focused on external training.

Stage one: Strengthening the body. Practitioners consumed rare meats—bear hearts, leopard gall, mountain pheasants—to open their appetites and build robust bodies and strong bones.

Stage two: Training strength. Once the body was solid, training focused on increasing raw power, until one could lift a thousand pounds and possessed brute force—an essential foundation for external martial arts.

Stage three: Mastering external techniques. Martial artists learned to wield weapons and unleash their potential, attacking fast, precise, and ruthlessly, with both brute and subtle force, combining hardness and flexibility.

Stage four: Rhino Strength. Once a martial artist had complete confidence in their power, they could challenge the Ironclad Battle Rhinos—beasts as large as houses, whose steps shook the earth. To defeat one was to gain the rhino’s might, earn rhino-hide armor, and be counted among the elite.

Stage five: Iron Bones. At this level, a practitioner’s head and arms became like iron, blades and arrows mere breezes, impervious to fire and water. Even five horses could not tear their body apart.

Iron Bones was the peak of external martial arts. As the saying went: “Train the muscles, bones, and skin.” These five stages forged a body as hard as steel, invulnerable to weapons.

Once external mastery was reached, one could continue into the next five stages to cultivate internal energy, refining their vital breath.

First the outer, then the inner. If internal skills reached the realm of the miraculous, and one could comprehend the movements of the five elements, they would step onto a new path—becoming a Mystic Cultivator.

“The strength of a martial artist, the speed of progress—talent isn’t what matters most; resources are! The Xiong brothers of the Gate are fools, but because they control so many mountains and resources, each is immensely powerful. And I, Chu Feng, devote myself to training every day, yet remain stuck at the first stage!”

Chu Feng’s power was weak, but his insight was keen.

Martial arts required wealth. With resources, progress was swift. Without them, one could not eat properly or practice the necessary techniques—advancement was impossible.

“No resources, no future!”

Chu Feng shook his head. In his hand, the only possession he had left was a simple, black cloth pouch. Thinking of his bleak prospects, and the safety of his sister Xinlian, sweat trickled down his brow.

A drop fell onto the little black pouch.

In that instant, a ring of light flashed across its surface and vanished.

“This time, Xinlian and I escaped the Gate by different routes—she by water, I by mountain. From the two markers she left behind, I know she’s safe and unharmed. Barring misfortune, she’s already beyond the Gate’s reach, heading for the town outside Mount Heng. As her brother, if I can draw the Gate’s attention along the mountain paths and give her a chance to escape, then even if I die, it’s worth it!”

Chu Feng’s worried but resolute gaze was fixed on a stubborn boulder—not noticing the mysterious change that had just occurred on the pouch in his hand.