Volume 1: Bo'an Awakening & The Calamity Storm
Chapter 64
Ash-Gray Skies, Omen of the Great Catastrophe
Screeech... clank... clank...
The ear-splitting shriek of grinding metal, accompanied by the groaning strain of mana-forged iron chains, reverberated sharply against the subterranean bedrock. The colossal megalithic portcullis of the Tower of the Sacred Brook—three paces thick and weighing tens of thousands of catties—slowly ground upward inch by agonizing inch, shaking loose a hazy curtain of pulverized stone dust.
Lin Feng lifted his foot, his simple cloth shoes stepping onto the icy granite threshold at the exit.
Seven grueling days of subterranean closed-door seclusion had officially come to an end.
He clenched both hands into tight fists, listening to the roaring currents of magical energy surging through his veins. Having thoroughly absorbed the quintessential essence of the Sacred Brook’s underground ley line, his Sea of Consciousness had undergone a monumental metamorphosis. Both his Fire and Lightning Stardusts had expanded to twice their former radius. Seven scorching crimson Star Cores and seven deep violet Star Cores burned brightly like living celestial bodies, bound together by dense, shimmering filaments of magical energy so concentrated they were on the verge of liquefying.
The absolute peak of the third tier of the Basic Realm!
All he needed was a single breakthrough catalyst, an opportune spark, and the fragile barrier separating him from the Intermediate Realm would be pulverized into dust. Against his chest, the ancient black jade pendant had settled into an enigmatic, profound stillness after devouring the boundless earthly spiritual font of the subterranean spring. With every breath Lin Feng drew, the Primordial Dragon Pendant emitted a deep, rhythmic resonance like the slow heartbeat of an ancient titan, unfurling an invisible barrier around his soul. It formed a consummate soul defense—the “Black Dragon Ward”—an impregnable defensive barrier against mental intrusions and spiritual strikes alike.
Yet the very instant Lin Feng stepped fully out of the cavernous gloom of the underground conduit, his pupils abruptly contracted.
The scene greeting him outside was the absolute antithesis of anything he had imagined.
There was no blazing midday sunshine, nor the familiar crystal-blue skies and sweeping frontier winds of Bo’an City. Hanging directly over Bo’an City was a bizarre, suffocating blanket of ash-gray clouds. The cinder-like cloudbank hung unnaturally low and leaden, pressing down like a colossal sheet of beaten lead against the rooftops of the towering buildings, sealing off the entire airspace above the metropolis.
The atmosphere was viscous, stifling and so intensely oppressive that it weighed upon the chest, making every breath an agonizing struggle.
“Kid... what in the world did you do down there?”
An aged, rasping voice croaked from the shadow of the stone sentry booth beside the tower gates.
Lin Feng turned his head. The speaker was Bo’an City’s guardian tower mage—an elderly man whose hair was white as frost, draped in an ash-gray ceremonial robe faded by decades of exposure. Guardian Elder Mo had manned this post for over forty years, watching countless generations of prodigies enter and depart the Sacred Brook. Yet at this precise moment, his cloudy, cataract-dimmed eyes were pinned unblinkingly upon Lin Feng, and the gaunt, sinewy hand clutching his ebony staff trembled with faint spasms.
The Guardian Elder could sense an invisible yet razor-sharp aura radiating from the black-clad youth. That presence was as deep as an abyssal trench, scalding as molten magma, yet humming with the devastating ruin of celestial thunder—far eclipsing anything that should belong to a student fresh out of high school.
Most alarming of all, the instant the megalithic portcullis had lifted, the thousand-year-old ley-line monitoring lantern within the sentry booth had inexplicably sputtered out and died. The energy conduits of the Sacred Brook had run bone-dry, drained to the absolute last drop.
Lin Feng halted in his tracks, inclining his head in a polite bow befitting a junior, his expression calm and unruffled:
“Senior, this junior merely followed the guidance of our venerable predecessors, quieting my mind in solitary meditation.”
With that, he extended his arm and returned the jade access talisman of the tower to the old man.
Guardian Elder Mo accepted the jade tablet, his withered fingertips trembling as they brushed the icy stone surface. He opened his mouth, intent on pressing for answers, but when his gaze met Lin Feng’s abyssal, pitch-black eyes—stagnant and unreadable as a frozen winter lake—the words caught fast in his throat. He had seen eyes like those before, but only among the scarred veteran soldiers on the frontier outposts, men who had bathed in the gore of savage beasts for decades. How could a sixteen-year-old boy hailing from the southern slums possibly forge an aura so domineering and chilling?
“Very well... Your allotted time has elapsed; you may take your leave.” Guardian Elder Mo swallowed dryly, waving his wide sleeve with palpable wariness. “Head straight home. The weather today is cursed... This old man has lived in Bo’an for nearly an entire lifetime, yet never have I seen skies so thick with the stench of death.”
“Thank you for the warning, Senior.”
Lin Feng withdrew his gaze, turning to descend the long flight of granite stairs leading toward the outer gate of the restricted perimeter.
Mountain winds gusted past.
Yet the draft carried none of the crisp, invigorating chill of Mount Cang Lei’s alpine snows. On the contrary, it arrived with a sweltering heatwave laced with a nauseating, metallic stench. It was the rancid stench of stagnant marsh mud stirred from depths undisturbed for decades, mingled with the foul, coppery odor of rotting carrion drifting in from the untamed wilderness.
Lin Feng strode swiftly past the military checkpoint at the outer gate. Several City Sentinels and frontier guards gripping mana rifles stood watch with caps pulled low, their expressions haggard and lethargic as they repeatedly wiped away the slick sweat dripping down their brows.
He picked up his pace, turning onto the central thoroughfare leading toward the old district of South Street.
The deeper he ventured into the residential quarters, the more violently the sense of foreboding coiled in Lin Feng’s chest.
Everything around him exuded a grotesque, hair-raising irregularity.
Normally at this hour, the street markets would be bustling with the lively haggling of vendors and the enticing aroma of roadside snack stalls. Yet today, a heavy, deadened silence smothered every alley and boulevard. Pedestrians hurried past with bowed heads and taut, anxious scowls, frequently pulling up their collars or sleeves to cover their noses and mouths against the sickening stench hovering in the air.
”Bark! Woof! Woof woof woof——!”
Abruptly, frantic barking erupted from deep within a narrow, shadowed alleyway.
Lin Feng glanced sideways. In the corner of the lane, three domestic dogs—normally docile and lazy—were lunging wildly against their leashes, the hackles along their spines raised like stiff needles, their eyeballs bloodshot with fiery crimson veins. They were not fighting one another; instead, they were furiously clawing their talons against the moss-slick brick walls, barking themselves hoarse toward the northwest mountain range, their muscular frames shuddering uncontrollably as though confronting an abyss of sheer terror.
High above on the weathered roof tiles of old tenements, flocks of sparrows and pigeons burst from their eaves in panicked frenzy, their frantic wings drumming up a deafening, clattering rustle. They did not circle in search of scattered grain; instead, they coalesced into churning black swarms, shrieking in shrill distress as they fled south at top speed—in the exact opposite direction of Mount Cang Lei.
Beasts descending into hysteria, birds taking flight in mass exodus!
This was nature’s primordial survival instinct, an innate premonition embedded in every creature before the arrival of a cataclysmic natural disaster or an apocalyptic scourge.
Thump...
The soles of Lin Feng’s boots vibrated faintly.
It was an imperceptible tremor, miniscule and transient, yet it reverberated with a dull, subterranean resonance through the bedrock beneath his feet.
Lin Feng froze in place, casting his gaze down at the cobblestones.
Ordinary mortals lacked the sensory acuity to perceive such subtle disturbances, but with the hyper-attuned senses of a Lightning Mage who had reached the absolute zenith of the Basic Realm, he could distinctly register subterranean shockwaves rippling from deep beneath the crust. It felt like the labored breathing of colossal beasts clawing at their underground lairs—or the frantic, rhythmic drumming of ten thousand claws stampeding in the pitch-black abyss a thousand fathoms below.
Nestled against his chest, the Primordial Dragon Pendant grew searingly warm, sending a cautionary pulse of heat directly into his flesh.
Lin Feng tightened his grip on his backpack straps, refusing to dally for another second. He kicked off the ground and broke into a full sprint toward South Street.
Throughout the past seven days of isolation within the tower, the solitary concern gnawing at his heart had been his little sister, Xiao Mo.
Just days prior, his father, Lin Hai, had taken on a long-distance mana-transport haul for the logistics freight firm, requiring at least half a month before he could return. Xiao Mo was alone at home, her legs still crippled. If an unforeseen crisis descended upon Bo’an City, how could a frail, defenseless girl ever protect herself?
At that thought, Lin Feng pushed his speed to the limit, hurtling like an arrow through the labyrinthine alleyways.
Fifteen minutes later, the rusted iron gate of No. 47 South Street came into view.
It was a modest courtyard sheltered beneath a weathered corrugated metal roof, enclosed by whitewashed walls where large swathes of plaster had flaked away to reveal dark crimson bricks. In the corner of the yard, the vibrant bougainvillea trellis that normally bloomed with lush magenta petals now drooped limply, its desiccated blossoms strewn across the dirt, withered under the suffocating, sweltering heat.
Yet the scene within the small courtyard caused Lin Feng’s frantic steps to grind to an abrupt halt.
Beneath the eaves of traditional interlocking clay tiles, a petite, slender figure was moving with painstaking care.
She wore a simple off-white cotton dress, her soft, lustrous black hair neatly pinned behind her head to expose a slender, pale neck. Resting beneath her arms was a pair of wooden crutches, carefully padded with soft cloth around the armrests.
Xiao Mo was no longer confined to the rusty iron wheelchair.
Her legs, once withered and paralyzed by the lingering venom of a demon wolf years ago, were now planted firmly against the earth. Though every step was trembling, awkward, and heavy, she was genuinely walking. Thanks to the precious medicinal herbs and botanical bone-marrow elixirs Lin Feng had purchased with every coin of his hunter bounties over the past months, the damaged meridians within her legs had begun a miraculous resurgence.
“One step... two steps...”
Xiao Mo bit her lower lip, fine beads of perspiration glistening across her smooth forehead and temples. She was fiercely focused, inching her way from the kitchen threshold toward the round stone table in the center of the courtyard, her delicate face etched with unyielding determination.
Clink.
The iron latch of the gate clicked softly.
Xiao Mo started, instinctively looking over her shoulder. The instant her gaze caught the familiar silhouette of the black-clad youth standing at the threshold, her large, clear almond eyes lit up with boundless joy.
“Brother Feng!”
Overwhelmed with delight, Xiao Mo inadvertently loosened her grip on one of the crutches, nearly losing her balance and tumbling forward onto the stone paving.
Lin Feng’s expression shifted; his form blurred, and in the span of a single breath, his sturdy arms reached out to catch his sister’s delicate shoulders, gently cradling her into his embrace.
“Silly girl! Be careful! Your legs have only just begun to heal—why are you rushing like this?”
Though his words carried a scolding tone, the hands steadying her were infinitely tender. He carefully guided her down onto a cushioned rattan chair beside the stone table.
The familiar warmth radiating from Lin Feng brought a brilliant, radiant smile to Xiao Mo’s lips. Her cheeks flushed with emotion, and her small hands clutched tightly at his jacket hem as she looked her elder brother up and down:
“Brother Feng, you were in closed seclusion for seven whole days... I was worried to death! You look like you’ve lost a bit of weight, but... your aura is so different now.”
Xiao Mo blinked her luminous eyes. Possessing the dormant, gentle affinity of Healing-element White Magic, she could instinctively perceive that the aura cloaking Lin Feng was many times more formidable and razor-sharp than before—like an unyielding divine blade that had just been quenched in dragonfire.
Lin Feng pulled up a wooden stool opposite her and gently ruffled his sister’s soft hair, his tone softening with warmth:
“Don’t worry, your brother is stronger than ever. The Tower of the Sacred Brook is completely secure, and the gains this time were beyond my wildest expectations. Seeing you stand on your own feet and walk with crutches makes every ounce of effort over these past days worth it.”
At the mention of her legs, Xiao Mo’s smile beamed even brighter. She wiggled the tip of her right shoe, proudly showing off:
“The physician at the Southern District clinic said my meridians are regenerating wonderfully. The medicine you bought worked like a miracle. I think if I keep practicing for just a few more months, I’ll be able to walk to the market and cook dinner for you and Father every single day!”
Then, catching herself, she gasped and hurried to push herself up with her crutches:
“Ah! Look at me, chatting away! I just finished brewing a pot of rice congee simmered with lotus seeds and scallions—the coals are still glowing on the stove! I knew your seclusion ended today, so I woke up at dawn to prepare it. Let me ladle a steaming bowl for you!”
“Sit tight,” Lin Feng pressed a firm, reassuring hand onto her shoulder. “I’ll fetch it myself. You just finished practicing your walking; your joints need to rest.”
He rose and strode swiftly into the familiar little kitchen.
The clay hearth was still aglow with embers. A cast-iron pot puffed gentle plumes of steam, wafting the sweet, wholesome fragrance of freshly simmered rice mingled with the earthy sweetness of lotus seeds and finely sliced scallions. That simple, warm aroma of home instantly washed away much of the sweltering, suffocating dread that hung over the courtyard.
Lin Feng scooped a brimming bowl, carried it back to the stone table with care, and sat down to eat in hearty mouthfuls. The piping-hot porridge slid down his esophagus, soothing the gnawing hollow in his stomach after seven days of sustaining himself solely on mana-infused mineral water deep beneath the earth.
Xiao Mo rested her chin in her hands, watching her brother devour the meal with eyes curved into sweet crescents:
“Is it delicious, Brother?”
“Delicious. Our Xiao Mo’s cooking is getting better by the day,” Lin Feng praised between spoonfuls.
“Father sent a letter through the mana courier station yesterday,” Xiao Mo continued, her voice light and melodious. “He said the haul transporting magic ore up to the northern base has been very smooth. The freight company gave him an extra long-distance stipend. He expects to complete the delivery and return home in three or four days. He even promised to buy me a pair of real leather shoes so I can practice walking properly.”
Hearing his sister speak of their father, a gentle warmth welled in Lin Feng’s chest.
Yet at that very instant, his gaze idly drifted across the small courtyard, settling upon the wooden windowsill of the main house.
The sky outside had undergone a grotesque transformation.
The leaden ash-gray hue had decayed into an eerie, bruised violet-black—resembling the necrotic mottling of stagnant, pooled blood beneath the rotting flesh of a corpse. The clouds churned in violent vortexes, sagging so low they seemed on the verge of grazing the radio antennae mounted upon the surrounding rooftops. The atmosphere had turned so sweltering that the sweat on Lin Feng’s back evaporated almost as fast as it surfaced, leaving behind a sticky, suffocating clamminess.
Patter... drip... plip...
The first heavy droplets fell from the bruised, violet-black clouds.
A single drop struck the raw timber of the window ledge, releasing a dull, crisp smack.
Lin Feng’s eyes narrowed instantly.
The moisture pooling against the wood was far from clear. It bore a turbid, murky crimson tint, like diluted blood swirling through sewer runoff. A faint wisp of pale white vapor rose from it, carrying an abhorrent, coppery stench that turned the stomach. The moment the liquid seeped into the grain, the aged varnish coating the sill began to fizz with tiny, corrosive bubbles before turning pitch-black.
Blood rain!
Rainwater laden with lethal toxicity and wildly berserk magical energy!
Lin Feng’s heart skipped a thunderous, jarring beat. The oppressive foreboding that had been mounting ever since he stepped out of the Tower of the Sacred Brook detonated like a storm within his consciousness.
This was no natural meteorological phenomenon! Something catastrophic, something earth-shattering had occurred at Mount Cang Lei—or within the city’s primary upstream reservoir.
“Brother Feng... why do you look like that?” Xiao Mo asked anxiously, catching the sudden, severe darkness crossing her brother’s face.
“Xiao Mo, listen to me carefully,” Lin Feng set his spoon down. His voice was lower, heavier, and more solemn than she had ever heard it. “No matter what happens next, you must not step outside this house. Seal every window shut. Do not allow a single droplet of this rain to touch your skin. Do you hear me?”
Xiao Mo froze, her eyes wide with shock. “Brother... is something dangerous coming?”
Before Lin Feng could answer—
Bzzzz! Bzzzz! Bzzzz——!
A rapid, violent series of vibrations erupted from deep within the inner pocket of the hunter coat concealed beneath his outer shirt.
It was the dedicated high-tier mana communicator issued by the Bo’an Hunter Union—the device Lin Feng used exclusively when adopting his enigmatic hunter persona: “Fan Shen.”
Accompanying the furious vibrations was a blood-red light strobing frantically through the fabric of his clothes, paired with the piercing, shrill shriek of a micro-siren:
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
The shrill klaxon instantly froze the very air in the courtyard.
A Grade 1 Emergency Alert!
Under the protocols of the Hunter Union, a Grade 1 signal was triggered under only two circumstances: an entire squad was encircled by an extinction-class monster horde, or the city had entered a state of Total Annihilation Alert.
Lin Feng shot to his feet, thrusting his hand into his coat and ripping out the communicator.
Across the narrow mana-crystal display, a blood-red backlight was flashing wildly. An encrypted emergency voice transmission automatically decoded, bursting forth amidst frantic static and the howling shriek of ferocious gales.
It was the voice of Captain Yang Zuo—the grizzled, battle-hardened leader of the Azure Wind Hunter Squad.
But right now, not a trace of Yang Zuo’s customary stoicism remained. His voice was raw, shredded by sheer horror, choked with desperate, ragged gasps and engulfed by the bestial roaring of countless creatures of the dark:
“Fan... Your Excellency Fan Shen! Run... run for your life!”
“It’s too late! The upstream reservoir... corpses everywhere... blood has dyed the entire subterranean aquifer red!”
“The beasts of Mount Cang Lei... every single one of them has gone rabid! The Calamity Beast Tide has erupted... Black Scarlet Wolves... tens of thousands of them... surging down like a flash flood!”
“They’ve torn through Outpost Number Three! Do not come to reinforce us... Take your family and run to the central civil defense shelter... Hurry——!”
CRACK——! BOOM!
The sickening, brittle crunch of shattering bone blasted through the tiny speaker, accompanied by Yang Zuo’s bloodcurdling shriek of agony and the deafening, ear-splitting howl of a colossal demon wolf.
Then, the connection was severed entirely, leaving behind only the harsh, buzzing hiss of chaotic mana interference.
Silence.
A deathly, suffocating silence descended upon the small courtyard of No. 47 South Street.
The bowl of congee on the stone table was still piping hot, sending gentle wisps of steam into the heavy air. Xiao Mo sat frozen upon the rattan chair, her small face drained of every trace of color, her tiny hands trembling violently as they dug into the woven armrests.
In the heavens above, a jagged streak of fiery red lightning ripped through the suffocating veil of ash-gray clouds.
CRACK-BOOOOM——!
A thunderous detonation, as though the firmament itself had ruptured, slammed directly onto the crown of Bo’an City, heralding the arrival of a torrential deluge of rancid blood rain that cascaded from the heavens!
Lin Feng clenched the communicator in his palm until his knuckles turned stark white, a towering inferno of murderous resolve blazing within the depths of his eyes.
The Great Catastrophe... had officially descended!