Thirty li outside Huangsha Town, there lies a dead forest known as the Forest of Bone Echoes. It is said that when the wind blows, the creaking of dead branches sounds like the cracking of bones, enough to chill the soul.
At this moment, Lin Ce crouched in the forest's shadow, eyes locked coldly on a sword-wielding cultivator in the distance.
That was Wei Yan—a seventh-layer Qi Refinement cultivator and a notorious demonic cultivator. He had severed the limbs of a former puppet master to refine them into a Blood Puppet. That puppet now stood behind him, eyes lifeless, gnawing on severed fingers.
Lin Ce licked his lips, gaze cold and sharp.
Three days earlier, he had disguised himself as the missing puppet master's disciple and used a forged letter to lure Wei Yan here. Hidden among layers of brittle branches on the forest floor were tiny talisman traps. Every step led deeper into the kill zone.
In Shen Changsheng's Survival Rules of the Cultivation World, one rule read:
"If the enemy is stronger than you by thirty percent, plan seventy percent more."
Wei Yan swept his spiritual sense across the area and sneered. "Tricks and shadows." With a flick of his hand, the puppet charged.
Lin Ce turned and ran—right into the third sigil trap.
Whoosh!
A hiss sounded as green toxic mist burst forth.
"Poison?" Wei Yan frowned and quickly raised a barrier. But the toxin was just bait—
Snap!
The second trap activated: a bone spear shot up from beneath the earth, aiming straight for Wei Yan's back. Though he avoided a fatal blow, he stumbled back in disarray.
"You think these cheap tricks will stop me?"
Before the words fully left his mouth, a pitch-black puppet flew out from Lin Ce's sleeve, pouncing toward Wei Yan.
It was Lin Ce's first puppet, refined from a corpse using a Corpse Gu. Weak, yes—but enough to entangle.
The true killing blow was in Lin Ce's hand: a bone needle inscribed with blood sigils.
Wei Yan roared and slashed the puppet in half. "You damn brat, I'll kill you!"
But Lin Ce only smiled coldly. "You won't."
He pulled out a ghost-blue talisman and slammed it onto the ground.
"Seal the soul."
The hidden soul-locking formation erupted, sending dozens of chains bursting out and binding Wei Yan on the spot.
"What—what is this?!"
"The souls of those you sacrificed to refine your puppets," Lin Ce said as he stepped closer. His arm trembled, but his voice was steady. "They deserve an answer."
"Wait—I have treasures! I can offer you techniques—!"
Rule Five: When the enemy begs, always finish the job.
Thud!
The bone needle pierced Wei Yan's skull. The runes flashed violently, and the soul-locking chains tore his soul apart.
His puppet crumpled, lifeless.
Lin Ce collapsed to the ground, soaked in sweat, his arms twitching. He had been afraid—terrified, even. But he feared death more.
This was his first true kill—a stronger enemy slain not through strength, but by rules.
He copied all of Wei Yan's puppet techniques and looted his storage ring.
That night, Lin Ce lit a fire in the Forest of Bone Echoes and burned the corpse.
Not out of mercy—but to prevent him from becoming a ghost cultivator and returning for revenge.
The next day, he sorted and catalogued the puppet diagrams and toxic techniques he had gained.
This was his first real survival capital.
In his notes, Lin Ce wrote:
"A true cultivator doesn't cultivate techniques—they cultivate survival."
And this, too, was an extension of Rule Six from Shen Changsheng's will:
"You're either stepped on, or you step on others. Don't dream of equality."