An entrance like the one I was seeing was really strange. It was set far down the cliff—low enough that no regular person could reach it without taking huge risks.
Even a cultivator would struggle to get there safely. The best—and safest—way was to first learn how to fly using a sword, and then explore the area. At my current level, it wasn't worth the risk.
I might be able to reach it, but the chance of falling to my death was high. And what if it was nothing? If the entrance was just some hole in the cliff, then I'd have wasted my time. If it really was the entrance to an abandoned cultivator's cave, it might also have formations or traps guarding it.
With all those factors in mind, I decided to wait.
If I gained a decent amount of Qi after absorbing the moth, I might be able to reach the level where I could learn sword flight. The only real problem was the technique itself—I had no access to Qi Techniques in this secluded village.
Despite my curiosity, I picked up the dead deer and headed home.
Once there, I cut away the parts of the deer I wouldn't be eating and used them to enrich the soil where my beast was planted.
When I placed the meat down, the moth cocoon absorbed it instantly. I could see the cocoon pulsing as it grew. Its size increased—only slightly—but its Qi spiked again.
It was now at the second layer of Qi Condensation.
That meant it was already stronger than the one I found inside the cave.
Progress was good.
I started wondering if I could push it to the third layer before absorbing it. If that were possible, my own strength would soar.
I returned to the cabin and cleaned the rest of the deer. Preserving the meat was still a problem. Almost impossible, really.
Salt would help, sure—but I doubted the village had enough to spare. My best option was wrapping the meat and burying it in cool soil.
Thankfully, the temperature was on my side. With the cold air creeping in, the meat might last a few days at least. Not long—but better than nothing.
Some parts I'd eat, others I'd feed to the moth. The deer carcass wouldn't survive the week.
Speaking of deer—I cooked up some venison for myself. It felt good to finally eat proper meat. Even without seasoning—just the herbs Zhao had given me—it tasted incredible.
Hunger made everything better.
After eating, I decided to take a nap. There wasn't much else to do while waiting for the moth to grow.
No books. No new project. Life had reached a quiet, calm state, free of worry.
I liked it.
I knew boredom would kick in eventually, so I needed something new to work on in the future. But for now, this moment of peace was exactly what I needed.
I woke up to Zhao screaming outside my cabin.
That was certainly unexpected. Why was he here again?
Fighting against the urge to stay in bed, I stepped outside to meet him.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
The look on his face said it all. Something had happened—had to be in the village.
"This region is secluded, as you know," Zhao said, "but we're not the only village out here. A group of people came today—they're demanding our supplies. Can you help us, please?"
"Bandits?"
"Not bandits. Warriors from another village. The others are stalling, trying to talk to them until we return. None of us are cultivators… but you might stand a chance."
That caught me off guard. We were isolated from the outside world, and now a nearby village was here to take what little we had?
Zhao explained that it wasn't the first time.
"It happens every year," he said. "They're stronger than us in combat. When winter approaches, they come here to take our food so they can survive more easily."
"I see," I said. "Let me grab my weapons."
I took the sword Zhao had given me, and the spear I'd used on the deer hunt. The sword went on my waist, the spear on my back. I left the bow behind—I was terrible with it.
We headed down the mountain, pushing our pace. Zhao looked tense.
Those warriors hadn't harmed anyone before. But this year might be different, and Zhao was anxious not knowing what was happening.
I spotted the warriors as we neared the village.
Just three of them.
But they were armored—leather gear, fur cloaks draped over their shoulders, mounted on horseback, and clearly experienced.
A small group, yes—but fierce. Far different from the villagers, who had no combat training at all.
Hunting animals was one thing. Fighting other people was something else entirely.
When Zhao showed up, one of the warriors—a muscular man with a scar on his right cheek—spoke.
"Zhao Lintao, there you are. I was starting to think you were hiding with fear, like a little rat."
Then he looked at me. Curious, sizing me up.
First time he'd seen me. I wasn't much to look at—skinny frame, not intimidating—but the white hair stood out.
"And who's this guy?" the warrior said.
Zhao clapped his hands. "A friend. He's living here with us now."
The warrior laughed. "Right. It's nice having help. He can assist the others in gathering the supplies I came for."
They were confident they'd take what they wanted.
I wouldn't let that happen.
Two reasons.
One—I needed those supplies to nurture my beasts. Two—I wanted the villagers to see me differently. I didn't want to be the outsider they feared. I wanted to earn their trust.
So, I stepped forward.
"Can you please leave?" I said. "I don't want to have to kill you."
The warriors looked at me, stunned for a moment. Then they burst into laughter.
"What did you say?"
Their laughter echoed.
It pissed me off.
Those bastards were going to regret underestimating me.