Chapter 33 – Into the Forest of No Return
After one year.
The air around the hut trembled faintly, the faint scent of scorched stone and churned soil lingering in the stillness. Wisps of fire and streams of dust spun around each other in a controlled orbit, then compressed into a tight orb in Jin's palm.
The orb pulsed once—then winked out as Jin released his breath.
He opened his eyes.
His once-rough control had transformed into refined precision.
"Still only two…" he thought with a mix of pride and frustration.
After a full year of grueling isolation and relentless practice, Jin had made noticeable progress in the Harmonic Core technique. He could now form a stable orb of two combined elements—fire and earth—the ones he'd always had a natural affinity for. The harmony between them was not perfect, but enough to simulate true fusion and produce immense power.
But the four-element version…
Jin's body stiffened at the memory.
He had succeeded only once—pulling fire, earth, wind, and water into a single core. But it had been unstable. Chaotic. A churning mass of elemental rage that had nearly exploded in his hand.
He'd barely thrown it away in time.
Even now, a patch of scorched, crystallized ground stood outside the hut as a scar—his warning and reminder. The moment still haunted his dreams, the sheer force of that unstable core burning through his veins.
"It's a time bomb," he muttered, flexing his fingers. "But when I master it… it'll be terrifying."
In the year since the old man had left, Jin hadn't wasted a single moment.
He had learned three techniques for each of his four elements. Earth had given him five, thanks to his grounded affinity with the element. Fire, his strongest, had opened up seven techniques, each more devastating than the last.
His mastery wasn't perfect—he still lacked combat experience—but the foundation was solid.
Titan Vein Tempering, his brutal body refinement manual, had progressed to thirty percent completion. Each session was a nightmare. Muscles twisted. Bones cracked and reformed. Essence was squeezed into every cell until it felt like fire under his skin.
But he had found a trick—thanks to his slow but steady progress in Silent Flame Meditation.
At ten percent mastery, he could now split his mind. Jin left only the bare minimum of consciousness in his body—just enough to guide the technique—and observed from outside, detached and emotionless, like a spirit watching someone else suffer.
It helped him endure.
It also drew him deeper into soul cultivation—an elusive, mysterious path that fascinated him more than anything else. The potential it held was boundless, but it refused to yield its secrets easily.
Even so, Jin had never felt stronger.
He closed his eyes, mentally reviewing every step of his progress—the techniques, the training, the breakthroughs. A soft breeze brushed through the hut's open window.
And then he heard it.
The old man's voice.
"Jin. Come to the hut."
Jin's eyes opened instantly. He didn't hesitate. He stood, dusted himself off, and headed toward the center of the small clearing where the old man stood with his arms crossed, gaze thoughtful.
The old man didn't speak immediately.
He looked Jin up and down, nodding slightly.
"You've grown."
Jin bowed slightly. "Thanks to your teachings and this place."
A flicker of amusement crossed the old man's face. "Flattery doesn't suit you."
Then his tone shifted, serious and sharp.
"But talent without battle is like a sword never drawn. Dull. Pretty, but useless in war."
Jin straightened, listening intently.
"You have too many techniques and no instinct for how to kill with them. You have no experience with blood, fear, or desperation. So, you'll earn it."
The old man raised a hand and pointed into the distant stretch of forest behind the mountains.
"The Forest of No Return."
Jin blinked.
He'd heard of the place in scattered whispers—where beasts roamed free, where few dared to venture. It wasn't a death sentence, but it was close.
The old man continued.
"You will spend one year there. Survive, learn, and kill. Your goal is to make it into the inner region of the forest. Only then can you come back."
Jin frowned slightly. "What kind of beasts?"
"Outer realm has early-stage Adept Realm beasts," the old man said casually. "But don't get cocky. Beast realms don't match human ones. An early-stage beast can tear through a human Adept Realm cultivator if you hesitate."
Jin clenched his fists.
"Understood."
"Good. Take everything you've learned. Every technique, every drop of essence, every inch of body refinement—and use it. No shortcuts. No help."
He paused, then added, "This journey isn't just about fighting. It's about sharpening your intent. You hesitate too much. You think too much. Kill or be killed—that's the law in there."
Jin said nothing for a while, his gaze turning toward the distant treeline. He could already feel the oppressive aura wafting from it, like the growl of a predator daring him to step closer.
He nodded once.
"When do I leave?"
The old man smiled faintly. "Now."
Jin turned without another word and walked to the edge of the forest.
He didn't pack supplies.
He didn't take food.
He didn't say goodbye.
His ring was loaded with techniques. His body was tempered. His soul was aware.
And his heart was ready.
As he stepped into the thick woods, the temperature shifted. Sounds vanished. The essence became wild—untamed and thick, like liquid clinging to his skin. Every step forward made his instincts scream.
Somewhere out there, beasts were already watching.
Jin didn't flinch.
He was done being prey.
This was his crucible.
A place where instinct was king, and hesitation meant death.
A place to forge a killer—not just a cultivator.
The Forest of No Return had claimed many.
It wouldn't claim him.
And so, Jin walked forward, vanishing into the shadows of the ancient woods, where blood, instinct, and power ruled.
His true test had only just begun.