Zhaokun City Lei Clan Residence
Inside the vast and imposing Lei Clan residence, activity was intense. Servants and warriors came and went in hurried steps, carrying weapons, packages, and trays. The air was permeated with a silent tension, as if everyone felt the weight of what was to come. This was no coincidence.
Zhaokun City intended to begin the Beast Hunting Season, an event that occurred only every five years. This tradition serves as a cruel test to train and select a new generation of warriors from each clan. In the city, three clans vied fiercely for control and leadership: the Lei Clan, the Feng Clan, and the Ming Clan. This season, the contest promises to be bloodier than ever.
In the main room of the Lei residence, a middle-aged man with an austere countenance and refined gaze sat on a small dark wooden throne. His tone sounded grave. "There's only a month left before we send the clan's children to Mor'lin Forest," he said, his hand clenched on the armrest of his throne. "Lei Ze, how are the preparations going?" Beside him, a hunched servant replied respectfully, "Leader, the preparations are almost complete. The children have already been properly trained to survive at least a few days in that forest." The man on the throne frowned. "That's good... Mor'lin Forest has been very turbulent these past few years. We need to clear the outer area, at least."
His voice grew colder. "Inform the instructors that the children remain only outside."
"Yes, my leader!" Lei Ze replied hesitantly, before looking up. "May I ask a question?"
"Tell me."
"The inner part of the forest... is it really that dangerous?" The leader let out a heavy sigh and replied, a dark glint in his eyes. "Yes. The inner part is deadly." Not even I would dare go in there alone. They say monsters beyond the Foundation Establishment level roam those shadows." The servant's eyes widened, a shiver running down his spine. "Understood, Leader. I will notify the clan instructors immediately."
Inside the Lei Clan residence, there was a small training ground, surrounded by black stone walls. It was there that the young warriors dueled daily, honing their skills and testing their endurance. In the center, two teenagers exchanged rapid blows, while others watched intently from around the makeshift ring. Every move, every hit or miss, was accompanied by shouts of encouragement or taunts. A little further away, approaching a row of throwing sticks stuck in the ground, two instructors observed the scene.
"This year's hunting season promises to be excellent," said a woman of medium height, wearing a black uniform with the Lei Clan crest embroidered on the chest. Her face wore a proud smile, and her eyes sparkled as she followed the young men's blows. "There are never so many promising talents in a single generation."
The man beside her, tall, broad-shouldered, and with a well-trimmed goatee, gave the impression of a veteran. Life, he crossed his arms and replied gravely, "Yes, Lei Qian... this is very good for the clan." He paused briefly, and his gaze narrowed. "But it could also be bad." Lei Qian raised an eyebrow in confusion, his expression changing from joy to mild apprehension.
"Bad? How can it be bad?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "Our young men will grow up in there, won't they?" The instructor sighed, as if he had heard that question countless times from inexperienced warriors. His eyes fixed on the young men fighting in the ring, but his mind seemed far away. "You don't know how that forest works, do you? "He said, his tone hardening, almost cold. "Even in the outer realm, there are beasts capable of tearing a man apart in seconds... but they are not our greatest problem." He turned to face her directly. His gaze, marked by invisible scars, conveyed the weight of past experiences. "Our worst enemies... are the humans themselves."
His voice was like a sharp blow. "Who's to say the other clans don't have prodigies even stronger than ours? What if they decide to hunt down our young ones, one by one, to weaken the Lei Clan?" Lei Qian looked away for a moment, swallowing hard. His earlier smile disappeared completely, replaced by a worried expression. The man returned to observing the ring, his voice now laced with bitterness. "Few people have the chance to enter the Mor'lin Forest... and even fewer return to tell what they saw."
The sound of training swords clashing echoed across the field, but for a moment, to Lei Qian, the sound sounded like bones breaking. Mor'lin Forest was a place that inspired fear in even the most seasoned warriors. Its domain stretched for miles of dense vegetation, where sunlight barely penetrated, and the cold mist clung to the ground like a veil of death. Within its shadows dwelt countless demonic beasts—creatures driven purely by the instinct to hunt and kill. Among them were the ravenous black-fanged goblins, the brutal, bloodthirsty orcs, the cunning packs of shadow wolves, as well as stone bears, crimson-scaled serpents, and spectral ravens that fed on the eyes of their still-living prey. But these were only the most "common."
The true danger of Mor'lin Forest lay in the creatures known as Ancient Beasts—beings possessing intelligence comparable to, or even superior to, that of humans. Unlike demonic beasts, which operated solely on animal instinct, Ancient Beasts were capable of reasoning, strategizing, and even communicating in human languages or their own dialects. Some led armies of demonic beasts as their own pawns, controlling territories and waging silent wars against human clans. For a demonic beast to achieve such consciousness, it was necessary to undergo what is called Awakening, an extremely rare and unpredictable process. Awakening could occur in several ways: Through age, when a beast survived long enough to accumulate spiritual energy. By absorbing demonic cores from other creatures, strengthening its essence. By sheer luck, when a beast encountered an artifact, relic, or location imbued with mystical energy capable of altering its very nature. Or in an extreme life-or-death situation, when the very pressure of its survival instinct broke through the barriers of its existence, forcing the mind and body to evolve brutally and instantly. ...........
Zhaokun City
Zhaokun City was considered small compared to the large neighboring cities. Yet, it possessed a peculiarity that made it renowned throughout the region: wood.
As the closest city to Mor'lin Forest, Zhaokun became a trading center for logs, roots, and plants. However, the wood from Mor'lin Forest was unusual; each tree was imbued with a dense Qi of the wood element, capable of strengthening weapons, forming cultivation pythons, and even influencing the human body.
But this wasn't the only reason Zhaokun had gained its fame. The true reason was the name Zao Chang.
Zao Chang was the most powerful cultivator the city had ever known. Decades ago, he discovered a hidden heritage within Mor'lin Forest, filled with martial techniques and cultivation methods linked to the wood element. With this power, he raised Zhaokun and protected it from countless hordes of demonic beasts that emerged from the forest. His image was so revered that, to this day, statues bearing his likeness stand throughout the city, reminding residents of his glorious era.
However, after ruling for many decades, Zao Chang disappeared. Some believe he died attempting to advance beyond Foundation Establishment. Others swear that, after achieving success in cultivation, he was invited to explore new horizons in distant lands.
Without his protection, Zhaokun descended into chaos. Beasts escaped from the forest, rogue cultivators plundered the city, and order collapsed. It was during this period of darkness that the three great clans emerged that still share local authority: the Lei Clan, the Feng Clan, and the Ming Clan.
The founders of these clans were no ordinary men. All had been Zao Chang's generals, cultivators who directly inherited part of his inheritance. Therefore, each mastered powerful wood-elemental techniques, passing this legacy on to their descendants.
It is said that when one of the three clans finally manages to unify the entire city under its rule, the seal on Zao Chang's inheritance will be broken... and his true legacy will resurface.
.........
It was midday, and the sun shone brightly over Zhaokun City. The streets were bustling: merchants shouted, hawking their wares, children ran and played, while men and women bustled about amid the hustle and bustle of daily life.
Among the crowd, a group of young people stood out, gathered around a man who appeared to be only half-adult. In fact, he was Lei Feng, instructor of the Lei Clan, responsible for guiding the most promising young men of his generation.
Lei Feng was 28 years old. His appearance conveyed both the rigidity of a warrior and the calm of someone accustomed to leadership. His hair was long and black, tied in a simple bun, but a few unruly strands escaped his forehead and blew in the wind. His eyes were sharp, a dark, almost somber brown, conveying the feeling that nothing escaped his notice. His skin, marked by faint scars, betrayed his battle experience. He wore a dark green and brown robe embroidered with Lei Clan symbols resembling intertwined roots. On his back he carried a short spear reinforced with spirit wood, his trusted weapon.
Around Lei Feng were about twenty young men, all selected to participate in the upcoming hunt.
One of them, walking to the instructor's right, dared to ask:
"Instructor Feng… what is our objective? Why do we need to leave the clan residence?"
The young man who spoke looked to be around sixteen. He was tall for his age, with light brown hair cut unevenly, and lively, curious eyes. Despite his confident posture, he still carried the naiveté of someone who had never faced true worldly danger.
Lei Feng, prepared for this question, replied shortly and directly:
"Let's leave the city."
His voice was cold, revealing no further information.
The reaction was immediate. Murmurs arose among the young people, many widening their eyes in surprise. They had never imagined they would leave the city limits with only a month to go before the great hunt.
Lei Feng, observing their tense expressions, thought to himself:
"I expected these reactions… most of these newcomers have never even set foot beyond these ridiculous walls. Yes, it's true that this generation is perhaps the most talented in cultivation and spiritual talent. But… they have a fatal flaw: they lack real experience. They have never faced life-or-death situations. They have always fought in controlled environments, protected by the clan. That's not enough."
As the group headed toward the city's exit, the mortals watching from a distance couldn't help but show a certain fear and respect. The mere sight of cultivators gathered together already intimidated them; they knew these young people were destined to walk a path that ordinary people would never dare tread.
Once they left the gates of Zhaokun behind, the group took the trail opposite Mor'lin Forest. The path was lined with lush green fields and low hills, where the wind swayed the tall grasses like a constantly shifting emerald sea. Further on, streams meandered between smooth rocks, reflecting the sunlight in golden shimmers. The air was clean and fresh, a far cry from the stifling atmosphere of the city.
The young men struggled to keep up with Instructor Feng's fast pace. His strides were long and steady, each movement almost seeming to cut through the wind. Even pushing at top speed, the novices barely managed to close the distance between themselves and the instructor.
After about ten minutes, Lei Feng stopped abruptly. Without warning. Without even turning his head.
Confusion was instantaneous. Everyone looked at each other, unsure of why.
"Instructor… why did you stop? What—"
The voice came from a skinny young man, short in stature, his bones practically protruding from his skin. His thin hair fell over his thin face, while his narrow eyes conveyed more insecurity than courage.
Before he could even finish his sentence, Feng disappeared.
Everyone's eyes widened.
In an instant, the instructor appeared right in front of the frail young man and, without hesitation, delivered a sharp punch to his face. The impact echoed like thunder, throwing the young man back several meters, rolling on the ground until he came to a halt unconscious.
With a slight smile on his face, Feng declared coldly:
"Rule number one: always be alert. Even an ally's footsteps can become a threat. Never forget… one day, they could be your enemy."
The young men held their breath in shock.
"I… Instructor Feng, wh-what is this?!" another young man said, his voice cracking with fear.
Before he could finish, Lei Feng was in front of him. A solid fist smashed into his stomach. The young man arched, his eyes bulging, the air knocked from his lungs. He fell to his knees, completely immobilized.
Feng leaned over him and, still smiling, said:
"Rule number two: fight more… and talk less."
This time, the young men panicked. Some of the faster ones retreated, drawing their swords and spirit spears, their eyes fixed on the instructor. Others stood paralyzed, trembling at the sight, unable to react.
Then, a firm voice cut through the silence:
"I understand, Instructor Feng. If this is a test… we will not back down!"
The speaker of the voice was Lei Tung, the strongest and most promising of the group. He had the natural presence of a leader: tall, broad-shouldered, with black hair tied in a ponytail that swayed in the wind. His eyes were deep and determined, conveying confidence even in the face of the instructor's overwhelming oppression.
With a firm movement, he raised the spirit sword in his hands. Green veins of energy began to pulse on its blade. The power of the wood element flowed around it, causing thin roots to sprout from the ground, which crept toward Lei Feng.
The instructor narrowed his eyes, as if assessing the young man's courage.
Without drawing his spear, without using any magical technique, he simply moved.
The shock was instantaneous.
Lei Tung advanced with a swift slash, his blade glowing with the life energy of the wood element. The air vibrated with concentrated power, but Feng leaned his body sideways, dodging it as if it were merely a gust of wind.
Without missing a beat, Tung flicked his wrist, releasing sharp roots that sprouted from the ground toward the instructor's legs. Feng simply lifted his foot and stomped down firmly, shattering all the roots into shards of energy.
The young man didn't flinch. With a shout, he launched three consecutive blows, each faster than the last, until the last came down with full force, unleashing a wave of verdant energy that vibrated the ground.
Lei Feng, however, raised only one arm and blocked the impact with his bare forearm. A boom echoed, dust rose, and the shock of energy caused the surrounding youths to shield their eyes.
When the dust settled, the scene was clear: Lei Feng hadn't retreated even half a step.
He looked at Tung and smirked. "Hm… not bad. But there's still a long way to go."
Before Tung could react, Feng disappeared again, reappearing behind the boy. With a single movement, a well-aimed kick landed on his back. The impact threw the young man forward, his sword slipping from his hands as he rolled across the ground, coughing up blood.
Still, Tung got to his feet, staggering, but with a firm gaze.
"I'm not done yet…!"
His body emanated energy again, roots stirring beneath the ground, the aura of the wood element overflowing around him.
Feng watched silently, his eyes carrying a flicker of approval. Despite overwhelming the young men with his superiority, he was holding back. He fought only with his body, without using techniques, without resorting to the spiritual spear he carried on his back.
For him, this wasn't a fight. It was a lesson.
Lei Tung was panting, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but his posture remained firm. The wind shook his ponytail, and the roots in the ground still pulsed with energy. He wouldn't back down.
The other young men, previously frightened, were now divided. Some looked at Tung with respect, others with fear—but the tension in the air forced them to act. If they didn't fight, they would be humiliated without a chance to defend themselves.
Suddenly, as if a silent agreement had been made, all eighteen remaining young men brandished their weapons and advanced at the same time.
The ground vibrated under the pressure of the elemental techniques. Spirit blades coated in wood energy, gusts of cutting wind, and even sparks of fire filled the field. Dust rose like a storm, covering the sky.
But amidst it all… Feng stood still.
Calm. Relaxed.
A slight smile on his lips.
"Very well. They've finally decided to act."
The first to arrive was a young woman wielding two short daggers. Her strides were swift, her body small and agile like a panther's. She leaped, aiming for Feng's throat, the blades coated in verdant Qi.
He simply raised his hand. He gripped the dagger with two fingers, twisted the hilt, and flung the girl through the air like a doll. She fell backward, gasping in pain, unable to get up.
Before the others could react, Feng disappeared.
He reappeared among three young men advancing together. A right punch, a back kick, a forward elbow—three bodies flew in different directions, screams echoing along the trail.
"Rule number three: quantity does not replace quality."
Another young man, desperate, summoned wood-elemental vines, trying to bind the instructor's feet. The roots wrapped around Feng, but he merely tensed his leg muscles, and the vines snapped like dry twigs. Then he swung his arm in a horizontal strike, unleashing a gust of wind that knocked the young man flat on his back.
Meanwhile, Lei Tung gathered his strength. Concentrating all his Qi, he raised his sword once more, and thick, trunk-like roots emerged from the ground, forming a living cage around Feng. The roots closed in like walls, crushing the space within.
"I got you!" Tung shouted, sweat dripping down his forehead.
Silence filled the air for a second.
Then, the roots began to crack.
With a crash, Feng shattered them into thousands of shards, each fragment flying like thorns. The young men screamed, shielding their faces with their arms. When they opened their eyes, Feng was already facing Tung again.
The instructor struck him with an open palm to the chest. It wasn't full force, but enough to send Tung several meters away, his body dragging through the earth until he came to a halt with difficulty.
"Good effort," Feng said, serious for the first time. "But it's still not enough."
The other young men didn't give up. In a collective effort, they all attacked simultaneously, each unleashing their strongest technique. Swords covered in flames, spears that cut the air with wind qi, chains made of golden energy. The entire field lit up with the glow of spiritual energy.
Feng advanced alone against the sea of attacks. His feet barely touched the ground.
He dodged blades with minimal movements, punched the air to dispel elemental blasts, kicked weapons out of their owners' hands.
Each of his blows was sharp, precise, and accurate. A punch to the jaw, a kick to the abdomen, a shove to the shoulder. And each contact meant a young man falling, rolling, coughing blood, unable to continue.
Gradually, the field filled with muffled screams and fallen bodies.
Lei Feng wasn't just winning; he was humiliating them, showing that all their dedication thus far was insufficient compared to the true strength of a Foundation Establishment cultivator.
A young man tried to flee, but Feng appeared in front of him, blocking the path with his arms crossed. His cold gaze shattered the young man's courage. With a kick to the knee, Feng knocked him down, unable to run.
"Rule number four: never show your back to the enemy."
Finally, only Lei Tung remained standing, though he could barely steady his feet. The rest lay groaning, their weapons scattered across the path.
Tung raised his sword again, even though his hands trembled.
"I… I can still fight!"
Feng stared at him for a moment in silence. Then he disappeared again. In the blink of an eye, he was in front of Tung, his firm hand gripping the young man's neck, lifting him off the ground.
Tung's eyes widened, and the breath was knocked from his lungs. Feng, with a serious expression, declared:
"Rule number five… accept defeat when it is inevitable. There is no shame in acknowledging the difference in power. The true shame is wasting your life in vain."
With that, he released the young man, who fell to his knees, gasping for breath, utterly defeated.
Silence returned to the field. Twenty young men lay on the ground. All immobilized. All humiliated.
Lei Feng raised his arms behind his back and gazed into the distance, oblivious to the pained expressions around him.
"Consider this a lesson. If you can't even face your own instructor… what will become of you when faced with the beasts of the forest?"