Grey heaved a silent sigh.
Forcefully strengthening his body was not sothing that could be done overnight. It would require ti, discipline, and an imnse amount of effort. But if he succeeded... if he could truly temper his flesh to its limits, then in terms of raw speed alone, he would far surpass ordinary cultivators within the sa realm.
That advantage alone could an the difference between life and death.
Just as he was contemplating how to further increase his speed, the red fog blanketing the sky suddenly churned violently. It twisted and coiled like a living thing disturbed from slumber.
Grey’s eyes narrowed.
The fog thickened... condensed... and then, faint silhouettes began to take shape within it.
Monts later, figures erged.
Their eyes glowed with a sinister red light, and a foul stench of blood and decay rolled off them in suffocating waves. Their bodies seed half-ford, unstable—like coagulated mist given shape through hatred alone.
Grey’s expression shifted imdiately.
In the next second, countless red figures burst forth from the fog and charged at him in a frenzy, their glowing eyes filled with unrestrained malice.
He could only raise his arms to block as the first wave descended upon him.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Heavy impacts rained down on his defenses. Each punch carried a strange corrosive force that vibrated through his bones. Grey retreated step by step, his boots carving trenches into the ground as he endured the assault.
But then—
The fog behind him churned as well.
More red figures erged, cutting off his path of retreat.
Grey’s heart sank slightly, but before he could react further, the captain’s voice echoed in his mind.
"These things are the red mist that floats in the sky. They didn’t appear earlier because they were afraid of the two halberds that descended from the spatial crack... but now that the halberds’ aura has completely dissipated, they’ve co out."
There was no panic in her voice.
Only cold clarity.
"Try to keep up, Grey!"
The mont she finished speaking, her figure exploded forward with terrifying speed. She beca a streak of light tearing through the battlefield. Wherever she passed, red figures were shredded apart, their bodies bursting back into dispersing mist.
Yet the scattered red fog did not vanish.
It gathered again.
Reford.
And then their hateful gazes locked onto Grey instead.
He gritted his teeth.
If she was the blazing spear, then he was the exposed flank.
Grey drew in a deep breath and released the full power of his cultivation base.
From his chest, a small ball of Spirit Fire flickered into existence.
Though it was no larger than a clenched fist, it radiated dense heat and blinding light, illuminating the surrounding area like a miniature sun. The air around him distorted, shimring from the intense temperature.
The mont the Spirit Fire appeared, Grey felt as though a furnace had ignited inside his body.
His blood boiled.
His muscles swelled with strength.
His speed sharpened to its absolute peak.
Even his spells felt more responsive, more obedient—like soldiers invigorated by a war drum.
Grey’s eyes burned with cold determination as he stepped forward instead of retreating.
He threw a punch at the nearest red figure.
The creature roared soundlessly, its arm lashing out to et his.
Bang!
A shockwave erupted from the collision. The red figure’s body cracked apart and exploded into fragnts of mist, while Grey was forced a single step backward. The ground beneath his heel fractured from the recoil.
But this ti, he did not feel overwheld.
His gaze only grew sharper.
"Co on," he muttered under his breath.
He moved at his maximum speed, his body swaying and weaving like a phantom. In an instant, he appeared beside another red figure and struck again.
Another collision.
Another explosion.
This ti, Grey did not retreat at all.
The red figure burst apart like shattered glass, unable to withstand the full force of his empowered strike.
Yet the battlefield showed no sign of thinning.
More red figures erged continuously from the churning fog, their numbers seemingly endless.
Grey’s expression hardened.
Without hesitation, he summoned the purple scythe.
The mont it appeared in his grasp, a familiar voice rang out from within it.
"Is it over? Is the Broken Divine still chasing us? Huh? What are these things?"
Grey ignored the chatter.
He swung.
The purple blade carved a wide arc through the air, leaving behind a shimring crescent trail. Wherever the scythe passed, red figures were cleaved apart instantly, their bodies scattering into fine red dust before dissolving back into mist.
He spun, slashed, advanced.
The battlefield beca a storm of purple light and red explosions.
Ti blurred.
The ground was soon covered in drifting crimson particles, only for them to slowly rise and reform once more.
But then—
Grey noticed sothing.
When the red figures were destroyed, faint strands of essence lingered in the air before dissipating completely.
On instinct, he circulated his cultivation technique and attempted to draw that lingering essence into his body.
To his surprise, it responded.
Thin streams of energy flowed toward him and were absorbed into his sea of consciousness.
The amount each figure provided was pitiful—almost negligible.
But there were so many of them.
An idea began forming in his mind.
At this point, he was only seven spirit perforations away from unlocking his second ball of Spirit Fire.
Once he achieved that, he would stand at the peak of the Initial Stage of Foundation Establishnt.
With three balls of Spirit Fire, he would enter the Middle Stage.
With four, the Late Stage.
And if he could ignite five balls of Spirit Fire—
His eyes flickered with ambition.
Then he would reach the Perfected Level of Foundation Establishnt.
The thought alone sent a surge of heat through his veins.
His strength would be enough to suppress anyone below the Spirit Core Formation realm!
The thought ignited a blazing ambition in Grey’s chest.
After cutting down another wave of red figures, he suddenly tilted his head back and drew in a deep breath.
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