The mountain path was rugged. At first, the powerless Grant Benson could still walk steadily, but after dozens of miles, he could barely keep going. His steps became unsteady, and he staggered and swayed as he moved along the mountain. After climbing several hundred meters, he couldn’t take it anymore and stopped to rest. Looking up, he saw the mountain peak towering into the clouds, and realized he still had a long way to go before reaching those clouds.

Grant Benson’s body was formed from the spiritual energy of the fields inside Yunhua Cave, giving him excellent innate qualities in every aspect. After a short rest, his strength would return. He was determined and never gave up until he achieved his goal. As soon as he recovered, he would immediately get up and continue climbing. In this way, stopping and starting, by nightfall he finally reached beneath the colorful clouds, about halfway up the mountain. Grant Benson plopped down on the ground, no longer caring about maintaining the image of a grandmaster-level expert. Exhausted and hungry, Grant Benson collapsed on the ground, unwilling to move. Fatigue was easy to deal with—a short rest would help him recover—but hunger had followed him like a shadow all day. At night, as the moon rose, this shadow of hunger still clung to him. Grant Benson felt as if there was no gap between his front and back stomach, and he had no idea where his bones had been squeezed to.

He looked around, hoping to find something to eat. He had long heard that wild fruits and game could satisfy hunger, but he had never eaten them before. Now that he had a physical body, the only benefit was being able to eat. However, after hundreds of years of cultivation, Grant Benson had never tasted mortal food and had no idea what “wild fruit” or “game” really were. He had been reborn from dry bones, and all memories of his previous life were long gone. To him, wild fruit was easy to understand—just wild-grown fruit. He had seen others plant fruit, on trees and in fields, so he knew what that was. But “game” puzzled him: wild flavor? How could that make sense? Back then, he was the lofty lord of Bone City, one of the three great demonic saints, Grant Benson. How could he bring himself to ask such a simple question? So to this day, he still didn’t know what game was, or how to eat it.

Given his lack of knowledge, Grant Benson set his sights on finding wild fruit. He searched tree by tree, but at this altitude, it was hard enough for grass to grow, let alone fruit trees. Unable to find any fruit trees as he imagined, Grant Benson had to start searching the ground. He remembered seeing someone dig in the earth and pull out something to eat. He didn’t know what it was, but as long as it was edible, that was enough. Grant Benson formed his palm into a blade and struck down: “Bone Blade!” But nothing happened to the ground. Grant Benson patted his former skull—now his forehead—and muttered to himself, “Sigh, I forgot again, I’m not who I used to be.” He squatted down and started digging with his hands. After a few tries, his fingers started bleeding. Although he could heal quickly, it still hurt. With no other choice, Grant Benson found a stone and began digging bit by bit. He dug a big pit—nothing. Dug a second—still nothing. A third…

Grant Benson was half dead from exhaustion and still hadn’t found anything edible in the soil. He lay on the ground, gasping for breath, recalling the scene he had witnessed. He couldn’t be mistaken—so what was going on? Why couldn’t he dig anything up? Grant Benson was completely baffled. He stood up again, squatted down, and continued digging with the stone. He dug several more big pits. Overhead, the moon hung in the sky like a silver plate, round and bright. Grant Benson kept searching for food, his stone falling again and again, digging another big pit. Just then, a sound suddenly came from a rock not far away.

After all, he was a monster who had lived for hundreds of years, so he immediately became alert and darted aside to hide.

From the shadows, he closely watched the rock. The rock was as big as an elephant, jutting out of the ground like an eagle. A trace of red light crawled up the mottled surface to the very top. In the bright moonlight, Grant Benson could see clearly—it was a small red snake. Grant Benson didn’t recognize this kind of snake, but figured it couldn’t be very poisonous; he knew all the venomous snakes that could threaten cultivators. Staring at the little snake, Grant Benson began to drool—he was starving. The little snake seemed to be basking in the moonlight, coiling up and lazily stretching on the rock. He crept closer, making no sound at all.

The little snake opened its mouth. Suddenly, Grant Benson lunged forward and grabbed the snake at its seven-inch spot. He felt something odd—the snake’s neck seemed unusually hard—but he had subdued it, and finally found something to eat.