Ethan’s hand hovered over the collection of weapons before his fingers wrapped around the hilt of a standard, double-edged straight sword. He lifted it from the iron rack, testing its weight. The balance was standard, the iron crude compared to his usual parameters, but it was structurally sound enough to serve as a disposable tool.

With a casual, almost indifferent flick of his wrist, Ethan swung the blade into the empty space of the forge.

*VUUUM!*

The air shivered. For a fraction of a second, an incredibly sharp, freezing ripple of pure Sword Intent bled from Ethan’s fingers and infused the mortal iron. The ambient heat of the blast furnace was instantly suppressed, replaced by a localized, razor-like pressure that caused the hairs on the blacksmith’s arms to stand completely on end.

The old smith’s remaining eye practically bulged out of its socket. His jaw dropped, his breath completely catching in his throat. To manifest true Sword Intent at such a tender age... there was absolutely no doubt left. This youth wasn’t just a refugee or a traveling junior; he was an elite core descendant of a monstrous, unimaginable powerhouse clan.

Any lingering, greedy thoughts the old man had about somehow scheming to acquire the Black Ruin Sword vanished into thin air. Trying to rob a monster like this would bring down an apocalyptic wrath that would flatten the entire frontier town. Without saying another word, the old blacksmith turned on his heel, his pride thoroughly shattered, and silently walked back to his anvil to pump the bellows, completely altering his attitude.

Mary, still recovering from the sudden drop in temperature, quickly stepped forward and pulled the remaining ten medium-grade Spirit Stones from her leather pouch, placing them on the counter.

"I will compensate you for these stones before the sun sets, Sister Mary," Ethan said softly, his voice returning to its calm, polite cadence as he slid the new iron weapon into its plain leather scabbard and secured it to his waist.

"Don’t worry about it, Ethan. Let’s just go," Mary whispered, eager to leave the intense atmosphere of the forge.

As the heavy curtain of the shop fell shut behind them, the scrawny assistant finally managed to drag himself up from the coal bags. He clutched his cracked ribs, his face twisted in a mask of pure, venomous rage as he glared at the old man’s back.

"You old dog!" the assistant wheezed, spitting a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the floor. "Why the hell did you break my ribs?! Do you have any idea what my father is going to do to you when he finds out you laid a hand on me?!"

The massive blacksmith didn’t stop pumping the bellows, the fire roaring back to life as he cast a cold, pitying look over his shoulder at the youth.

"Your father? Ha!" the old man sneered, his voice dropping into a heavy, serious rumble. "Your father should be down on his knees thanking me for breaking your bones, you ungrateful little shit. That boy was actively calculating how to decapitate you. I saw it in his eyes. And from the depth of his backing, if he had taken your head right here, your father wouldn’t have even had a corpse to bury, let alone someone to complain to. Shut your mouth and go clean the slack before I decide to break the other side."

The cobblestone roads of the frontier town gradually gave way to a rugged dirt path as Ethan and Mary walked briskly toward the eastern mountain ridge. Ethan led the way, his newly purchased iron sword swaying gently at his hip, while Mary walked half a step behind him, her eyes constantly scanning the dense, creeping fog that blanketed the ancient tree line.

"Listen to me closely, Ethan," Mary said, her tone laced with deep anxiety as the distant chatter of forest wildlife began to echo through the canopy. "The Mist Monkeys are not like ordinary forest animals. They are highly organized, and their group structures are incredibly dangerous if you get surrounded."

"Tell me about their patterns," Ethan requested calmly, his eyes fixed on the path ahead, though his mind was already cataloging the geographical entry points.

Mary nodded, adjusting the hunting bow slung across her chest. "They rely heavily on a strict hierarchy. First, you will encounter the scouts. They are small, incredibly agile, and hide high up in the branches where the fog is thickest. They won’t engage you directly; instead, they screech to alert the territory and rain down heavy, spiritually infused stones from above to disorient you."

"A standard skirmishing line," Ethan noted smoothly. "And their front liners?"

"Those are the warrior monkeys," Mary explained, her voice tightening. "They are much larger, their fur is thick like iron wire, and they attack in packs for close-quarters combat. They will try to pin you down while the scouts keep throwing rocks. But the real danger starts if we draw out a commander."

She paused, taking a breath as they stepped over a massive, rotting root. "A Monkey Commander is massive. They look almost like a heavily muscled, hair-covered human warrior, and they possess high intelligence. They can coordinate the pack and use raw, devastating physical strength. If we encounter one, we must harvest what we can and retreat immediately."

Ethan offered a reassuring smile over his shoulder. "And what is the worst-case scenario?"

Mary stopped for a fraction of a second, a cold shiver running through her. "If we are incredibly unlucky, the Troop Leader will appear. It is a mythical horror on this ridge—nearly three meters tall, covered in battle scars, with massive, razor-sharp fangs protruding from its jaws. Its strength is at the absolute peak of its tier. If that monster shows up, we don’t fight. We run for our lives."

Ethan turned back toward the path, his dark crimson leather chest armor reflecting the faint sunlight filtering through the mist. "Scouts, warriors, human-like commanders, and a three-meter leader..." he murmured, a faint, imperceptible glimmer of amusement dancing in his amethyst eyes. "Don’t worry, Sister Mary. As long as we stay sharp, everything will go smoothly."

Underneath his calm demeanor, Ethan was already looking forward to the harvest. To a creature with his true foundation, a troop of organized monkeys wasn’t a threat—it was a highly efficient delivery of raw cultivation resources.

-------------------

From this moment forward, to avoid confusion regarding cultivation ranks, I will include this footer with the current established levels.

Note: These are only the ranks mentioned so far to avoid spoilers.

Body Refinement Realm

Skin Refinement / Bone Refinement / Organ Refinement

Spiritual Gathering Realm

Spiritual Perception / Spiritual Mist / Spiritual Condensation

Spiritual Core Realm

Core Solidification / Core Awakening / Spiritual Collapse (Half-step Spiritual Core)

Spiritual Soul Realm

Spiritual Soul Awakening / Soul Nourishing / Soul-Core Fusion

Golden Core Realm

Prime Fusion / Core Perfection / Core Destruction

Spiritual Sea Realm

Stage 1 ?? / Stage 2 ?? / Stage 3 ??

Dao Manifestation Realm

Stage 1 ?? / Stage 2 ?? / Stage 3 ??

Spiritual Transcendence

Stage 1 ?? / Stage 2 ?? / Stage 3 ??