Yanwei took his first step into the secret realm, his lips curling into a faint smile. "I’m finally here," he murmured, his voice barely audible amidst the eerie silence.

The air was heavy and stifling, laced with the faint metallic tang of blood—a prelude to the chaos this place would soon unleash. Towering trees with warped trunks loomed over him, their gnarled branches entwined like the claws of a beast. The ground beneath his feet was uneven, littered with jagged rocks and patches of black moss that seemed to pulse faintly, as though alive.

He scanned the area, his senses on high alert. Fortune had smiled on him—he had been teleported to a safe zone, far from immediate threats. But he knew the secret realm’s cruelty. Not everyone would be as lucky. Somewhere out there, some hapless fool had already fallen into a beast’s den or triggered a killing array. The screams of the unfortunate were as much a part of this realm as the treasures it guarded.

A wave of dizziness hit him, the lingering effect of spatial transfer. Yanwei steadied himself, closing his eyes for a brief moment. His soul, tempered by three rebirths, had long surpassed the limits of ordinary cultivators. Where others might stagger and struggle for minutes, he regained clarity in mere seconds.

“This face is going to be troublesome,” he muttered, his voice cutting through the stillness. With a thought, his features began to shift, the transformation seamless. His sharp, calculating visage melted away, replaced by the unassuming face of an honest-looking man. He ran a hand over his altered features, satisfied.

As he adjusted his appearance, his spiritual sense flared. A presence entered its range—a woman, dazed and unsteady, her steps faltering as she emerged from the teleportation.

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Yanwei’s reaction was immediate. Without hesitation, he flicked his wrist. His rank 2 dagger flew through the air, a streak of light that pierced the woman’s forehead before she even registered the attack.

Her body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Yanwei approached her, his expression unreadable. He crouched beside the corpse, studying her with detached indifference. Her face, though strikingly beautiful, was now slack, her eyes wide open in an eternal, empty gaze.

“Unlucky,” he murmured, his tone devoid of pity. The word wasn’t meant for her; it was an acknowledgment of the unseen hand of fate. Luck was an intangible force, yet its influence was undeniable. This woman, for all her cultivation and preparation, had been dealt a losing hand.

He rummaged through her storage bag, methodical in his search. The bag was filled with resources—spiritual herbs, cultivation manuals, and trinkets of moderate value. But as he sifted through the contents, his hand paused. A collection of items tumbled out, their shapes unmistakable.

Sex toys.

Yanwei’s face remained impassive, but he let out a quiet sigh. With a flick of his hand, he discarded the items onto the ground, where they lay like discarded relics of a shameful past. “Not everyone’s as rich as I expected,” he muttered. “Maybe the geniuses will have something worthwhile.”

Rising to his feet, he cast one last glance at the corpse. A sinister smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “No matter. They’ll all fall into my hands eventually.”

The oppressive silence of the secret realm returned, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the unnatural breeze. Yanwei adjusted his robe, his figure blending into the shadows as he began his hunt.

But just as he took his first step forward, his spiritual sense flared again—this time, sharper and more distinct. A faint presence brushed against the edge of his perception.

Unlike the woman before, this one wasn’t disoriented. It was deliberate, moving with precision. Whoever—or whatever—it was, it was already closing in.

Yanwei’s smile vanished, his dagger appearing in his hand once more.

“So soon?” he whispered to himself, eyes narrowing as he turned toward the source.

The game had begun, but perhaps he wasn’t the only hunter.