The beast's roar came without warning.
Chen Ming sat cross-legged atop a boulder, the spiritual power in his body murmuring like a stream as it mingled with wisps of death qi drifting from the distant Ghost Fog, nourishing the poison golden core in his middle dantian. Seven days and nights of motionless cultivation had brought him another step forward. Only one final, thin barrier separated him from the great perfection of golden core.
Yet just as he tried to break through that barrier, a deafening roar exploded like thunder out of a clear sky, forcibly jolting his mind out of meditation.
The roar seethed with savage brutality, carrying a primal wildness and menace, as though declaring its territory-or warning an intruder: one more step, and you die.
Chen Ming's eyes snapped open, his lightning-sharp gaze shooting toward the source of the sound.
The northern side of the island.
He rose, his brows drawing together slightly. He had been on this deserted island for seven days and had previously swept his spiritual sense across its entire expanse without detecting any powerful demonic beasts. A beast capable of such a roar had either just migrated from elsewhere or remained hidden somewhere, escaping even his spiritual sense.
Either possibility warranted investigation.
Rather than flying on his sword, he concealed his aura and sped north close to the ground like an agile hunting leopard. The island's thick vegetation and jagged rocks provided excellent cover. His footsteps were light and silent, his figure weaving nimbly between trees and stones. In less than half an incense stick's time, he approached the island's northern end.
He parted the last thicket of bushes, and the sight before him brought him to a halt.
Not far ahead, a black rocky hill roughly a hundred feet tall rose from the