When the projection of the middle-aged man finally dissipated into nothingness, the invisible force draining the old man’s vitality vanished along with it. The sensation was imdiate. The suffocating pressure gripping his soul loosened, and the numbness eating away at his flesh receded like a retreating tide.
Yet despite being freed, his body remained pitiful.
He looked emaciated to the extre, his skin clinging tightly to bone, dry and shriveled like a corpse that had been left out under the scorching sun for far too long. Anyone who saw him would think he was already half-dead. And yet, in stark contrast to his ruined body, there was still a brilliant glint burning deep within his eyes. It a stubborn light that refused to be extinguished.
As the dark, grotesque totem embedded in his body shattered and faded away, the old man’s expression changed rapidly. Shock surged forth through his heart first. Then clarity followed.
And then, beneath it all, sothing twisted and ugly surfaced. Happiness.
He was happy because in his mind, the disappearance of the totem could only an one thing.
Grey was dead.
The terrifying young man who had hunted him down weeks ago, the sa youth who had forced him into desperation, should have already perished beneath the overwhelming might of the projection. With Grey’s death, the invisible blade hanging over his neck would finally be removed. He would be free once more.
Free to live, free to continue his insidious sche, and most importantly, free to survive.
But reality was cruel.
To his greatest shock, Grey was still standing.
Though his body was riddled with injuries and blood slowly trickled down from the corner of his lips, staining his chin, Grey stood upright with terrifying composure. His posture was steady, his breathing controlled. There was no sign of collapse, no trace of fear.
Before the old man also stood a woman clad in flowing red robes. She was breathtaking.
Sweat rolled down the side of her face, her chest rising and falling from exertion. But instead of diminishing her beauty, the fatigue only enhanced it, giving her a fierce and alluring presence that made it hard to look away.
The old man’s lips trembled.
He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat refused to cooperate. His voice seed to have abandoned him entirely.
"H-how..." he croaked.
"Wh-why..."
"H-how i-is that possible?!"
The words finally escaped him, broken and uneven, soaked in disbelief and fear.
From Grey’s expression alone, the old man could tell that he had clashed directly with the projection. There was no mistaking the traces of a brutal battle, the residual aura, the blood, the faint instability in Grey’s body.
Yet despite that...
Grey was still alive.
But that wasn’t even the most horrifying part.
Several weeks ago, when Grey had chased him across the land, he had only been a cultivator in the Qi Accumulation Realm. Although he had shown faint signs of stepping into sothing greater, he had still been far from truly entering the Foundation Establishnt Realm.
Back then, the old man had been certain that ti was on his side.
Now, Grey had returned wielding power that far surpassed his expectations.
Not only had he fully stepped into the Foundation Establishnt Realm, but his presence alone carried a terrifying pressure , one heavy enough to crush the old man’s spirit and force him into seeking protection from an ancient expert.
The sa thing had happened weeks ago.
That expert had not been nearby at the ti and could only bestow a totem upon the old man’s body. When the old man was pushed into a corner, he would activate the totem, summoning the expert’s projection to descend in his stead.
That projection possessed power at the Late Stage of the Foundation Establishnt Realm.
If it failed to kill its target outright within its limited duration, it would grievously injure them, buying enough ti for the expert’s true body to rush over at full speed. By the ti the main body arrived, the opponent would already be crippled, if not outright dead.
That was how the expert had dealt with threats in the past.
And it had never failed.
Which was precisely why the old man felt his heart sink deeper and deeper.
The expert he had sought help from was a Spirit Core Formation cultivator, an existence that stood far above ordinary Foundation Establishnt experts. Even with the projection’s limitations, its power was nearly untouchable to most cultivators.
Very few people could survive such an encounter.
And yet... Grey had.
However, the totem and the projection had a single fatal flaw.
Ti.
The projection could only exist for fifteen breaths.
But those fifteen breaths were more than enough to kill any cultivator in the Foundation Establishnt Realm who had yet to manifest their second ball of Spirit Fire.
Anyone weaker would be obliterated instantly.
If Grey had remained in the Qi Accumulation Realm, he would have died before he could even react, crushed within the first exchange.
But fate had other plans.
After nearly having his soul possessed, after being dragged through fragnts of shattered mories not his own, and after encountering a strange and inexplicable serendipity that defied logic...
Grey was no longer the sa man he had been before.
By the ti the projection vanished completely, Grey’s battle armor had already shattered apart. It dissolved into countless purple sparks that flowed back into his body like streams of light returning to their source.
Pain wracked his flesh.
Blood seeped from countless wounds.
And yet, his eyes remained frighteningly calm.
There was no panic in them.
No hesitation.
Only cold certainty.
Grey was calm because he knew sothing without a shred of doubt.
The old man had to die.
Even if doing so ant becoming the enemy of the middle-aged man behind the projection. Even if it ant inviting endless trouble in the future. Even if it ant walking a blood-soaked path from this mont onward.
He would still do it.
Ever since transmigrating into this world, Grey had carved a set of principles deep into his heart, principles he followed without exception, without rcy.
One of them was absolute.
Any threat to his existence must be eliminated.
No compromises. No second chances.
Even if it earned him powerful enemies. Even if it required him to bathe in blood. Even if it dragged him deeper into an unforgiving abyss.
Because this world was rciless.
The strong devoured the weak.
And the mont one exposed even the slightest weakness, disaster would descend without warning.
These principles had not ford overnight.
They were forged through repeated brushes with death. Hardened through pain, betrayal, and survival. Etched into his bones through countless monts where hesitation ant extinction.
They had beco his character. His will. And the very core of his existence.
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