The setting sun was as red as blood.
Earlier, due to the aftermath of the battle between the two Millennium Soul Beasts, Grandmaster had been separated from Yang Ming and Tang San.
Roughly speaking, the three had formed a triangle. However, because Yang Ming and Tang San were easy to blow over due to their light builds, they had been carried farther away by the gale and ended up closer to each other.
Following the direction in which Yang Ming and Tang San had been blown, Grandmaster walked for a while before suddenly stopping, his ears twitching slightly.
"Awooo—"
A miserable wolf howl had just rung out when it was as though someone had pierced its throat, cutting the sound off abruptly.
"Over here!"
Grandmaster and Three Cannons hurried forward, silently praying:
You two mustn't let anything happen!
A thin mist lingered in the forest, worsening visibility. Grandmaster could only make out a small figure and several wolf-like shadows around it, attacking relentlessly.
"Hold on!"
Grandmaster could not see clearly who that figure was, and anxiety rose within him as he quickened his pace.
Yet when he pushed through the dense trees, the scene before him left Grandmaster dumbstruck.
Yang Ming carried the bloodied Tang San on his back. With his Soul Power exhausted and unable to summon the Mysterious Sword, he had taken the long spear from his back instead.
In Yang Ming's hands, the spear danced like a White Dragon. Every flicker of blue lightning was followed by the shrill cry of a Netherwolf collapsing nearby, a thumb-sized hole torn through its throat or abdomen as blood spilled across the ground.
By the time Grandmaster arrived, Yang Ming had planted his spear in the ground and leaned against it to rest. Beneath his feet lay the corpses of wolves that had already stopped breathing.
The setting sun cast mottled, blood-red patches of light through the gaps in the branches and leaves, falling across Yang Ming's bloodstained clothes and the wolf corpses scattered everywhere, shrouding them in a faint crimson glow.
Yang Ming was clearly young and short, yet at that moment, Grandmaster somehow saw him as towering and majestic.
"What happened to San?"
The moment Grandmaster saw Tang San covered in wounds and realized a great deal of poison had accumulated in his body, he hurriedly took out emergency medicine and barely stopped his injuries from worsening.
A bitter smile appeared on Yang Ming's lips. To be honest, he did not know who those two tattooed men who had suddenly appeared really were.
Thus, as Yang Ming followed Grandmaster out of the Soul Hunting Forest, he recounted what had happened along the way.
The Green Lotus Core Flame Yang Ming had used was simply too tyrannical. Everything the two tattooed men carried had been burned to ashes, leaving behind nothing that could identify them. Even with Grandmaster's vast knowledge, he could not deduce much from such scant information.
Judging from the tattoos engraved on their arms alone, there was no way to tell which faction the two men belonged to.
As they talked, Yang Ming and the others finally left the Soul Hunting Forest.
The last traces of evening light had still been visible earlier, but now the sky had darkened. Smoke from cooking fires rose faintly from the market built around the forest's outskirts.
This was not Grandmaster's first time at the Soul Hunting Forest, and he was familiar with the market. He led them skillfully to an inn with a sign above its entrance reading "The Lost Lamb," a rather distinctive name.
"Yang Ming, let's rest here for the night. In a while, I'll find a Spirit Master with healing abilities to give San some preliminary treatment. Tomorrow, we'll head back so he can receive better care."
Naturally, Yang Ming had no objections to Grandmaster's suggestion.
His Soul Power had long been depleted, and the exhaustion in both his mind and body had already made him unbearably sleepy. Being able to rest was naturally a good thing.
Seeing that Yang Ming had no objections, Grandmaster rented one large room and one small room. The larger one was a double room for Grandmaster and Tang San, since he needed to care for Tang San properly, while the smaller one was a single room for Yang Ming.
After settling everyone in, Grandmaster hurried out of the inn to find a healing-type Spirit Master. Such Spirit Masters were easy to find in the market, since many people hunted in the Soul Hunting Forest and had a great demand for healing Spirit Masters.
Yang Ming ordered a lavish meal—half a roasted lamb and a bowl of wild vegetable mushroom soup—then returned to his room to enjoy it.
It had to be said that the inn's chef was truly skilled. The roasted lamb was crisp on the outside and tender within, its skin a tempting golden brown. With a slice of the knife, amber-like fat slid from the cut and dripped onto the cool silver plate, releasing an enticing aroma of oil.
One bite tore through the crisp skin. The lamb, seasoned with chili powder and cumin, had not the slightest gamey taste. The meat was tender and juicy, and after chewing for a moment, his mouth was filled with rich oil.
Too much lamb could become greasy, but a mouthful of wild vegetable mushroom soup at that moment, with its fresh taste of nature, immediately washed away the oiliness lingering on his tongue.
It was delicious!
Yang Ming swept the food from the table like a storm. Full and satisfied, drowsiness washed over him. After tidying up a little, he plunged headfirst onto the soft bed.
Before long, the sound of snoring filled the room.
The night passed without incident.
The next day, when the sky had only just begun to pale, Yang Ming slowly opened his bleary eyes.
"I never expected to sleep for more than ten hours."
After stretching comfortably, Yang Ming went into the bathroom to wash up and changed into a clean set of white clothes. Seeing that it was still early, he sat cross-legged on the bed, closed his eyes, and examined the changes in his body after obtaining a Soul Ring.
Generally speaking, when a Soul Scholar advanced to a Spirit Master and obtained their first Soul Ring, their body would be impacted by the Soul Ring's power. If the Soul Ring did not match the Martial Soul, adverse effects would occur.
However, Yang Ming's situation was somewhat special. His Soul Ring had been created after fusing with Flame Demon King Ragnaros.
When Yang Ming slowed his breathing and began absorbing the Soul Power drifting through the world, the Soul Power within a ten-mile radius surged joyfully into his body like birds returning to their nests. His previously depleted Soul Power rapidly soared at a visible rate.
However, Yang Ming's expression turned somewhat grim when he discovered a problem.
Such an enormous amount of Soul Power would have been enough for someone else to rise five or six levels at the Spirit Master stage, yet he had only risen by one level.
In other words, Yang Ming required far more Soul Power than others, making it harder for him to level up!
Seated cross-legged on the bed, Yang Ming was like a bottomless Black Hole, continuously devouring the Soul Power drifting around him.
"This is..."
Grandmaster had been busy all night and had only just woken up when he keenly sensed the abnormal fluctuations of Soul Power in the air. A strange glint flashed through his eyes as he followed the source of those fluctuations to Yang Ming's room next door.
Yang Ming's room was unlocked. Grandmaster opened the door and saw a scene that shocked him.
Strands of morning light slanted in through the window. Yang Ming sat cross-legged with his eyes tightly shut, while behind him, the faint outline of an enormous creature whose body seemed forged from flames emerged.
Flame Demon King Ragnaros!
When Flame Demon King Ragnaros noticed Grandmaster's arrival, he slightly opened his eyes and glared at him. As though he had encountered something terrifying, Grandmaster staggered backward again and again until he retreated all the way out of the room.
Grandmaster touched his back and found it already drenched in cold sweat.
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