The decision was made. Not in a grand declaration, but in the rhythmic tap of a claw against stone, in the deep inhalation of Qi-rich air from the tunnel, in the unshakable focus in Zhuo's eyes, now like yellowish-green gemstones. The threat from the foreign bipedal creatures had crystallized his purpose. He could no longer just be a consumer; he had to become a conqueror.
Yet, the pearlescent root remained an overwhelming force. Every breath at the tunnel's mouth still granted him power, but also reminded him of the near-destruction he had experienced. He needed to find a way not just to swallow its energy, but to tame it, to make it obedient.
His inspiration came from the most fundamental thing: basking.
As he lay on his rock, absorbing the sun's energy, he realized something. The sun's heat didn't burn him immediately; it seeped in slowly, layer by layer, processed by his cold-blooded body. He didn't swallow the sun; he absorbed it.
Why couldn't he do the same with the energy in the earth?
Cautiously, he approached the tunnel mouth again, but this time, instead of just inhaling, he tried something different. He laid his elongated body directly on the ground, touching the cold stone with the entire surface of his belly. He closed his eyes, trying to quiet the still-noisy impulses of his instincts.
At first, nothing happened. Then, ever so slowly, he began to feel it. A faint vibration. The subtle song of Earth Qi wasn't just coming through the air; it was traveling through the stone, into his scales, resonating with his reinforced bones. It was a slow trickle, a fraction of the power he got from inhaling, but also stable and non-threatening.
This was a breakthrough. A cultivation method entirely unique to a creature like him—a method that leveraged his reptilian nature, full-body contact with the earth, a patience almost like stone.
Zhuo termed it, in his primitive way, "Lying on the Pulse."
Days turned into weeks. His ritual changed. Now, he spent most of his time lying motionless at the tunnel mouth, not just when the energy was calm, but almost constantly. He would lie for hours, sometimes entire days, letting the subtle yet unceasing earth energy seep into him.
Slowly, deeper changes began to occur. Not just physical changes, though his pearlescent scales now shone brighter and his body reached two human feet in length. The change happened inside the "emptiness" in his head.
The previously chaotic sensations, memories, and impulses began to coalesce. Like magnetic shavings slowly forming a pattern. As he lay there, connected to the earth's pulse, the vague images from the earth's memory—the images that had nearly killed him—now came to him in digestible fragments. He "saw" how a crystal grew over millennia, how water carved stone, how a tree root found its way through the darkness.
His thoughts became clearer, more ordered. He no longer just reacted; he could contemplate. He began to understand the concept of "cause and effect." If he lay longer, he felt stronger. If he approached the root when its energy was turbulent, his head would spin.
One night, under a full moon that flooded the crevice with silvery light, something extraordinary happened. Zhuo was lying, half-hypnotized by the earth's pulse and the cold Qi Moon song from the crystals in the wall. His mind was calm, clear. He focused on the feeling of energy flowing from the stone into his body, through his scales, into his blood, and finally... upward. Up into his head, into the once-empty "room."
And there, in that room, the energy gathered. Swirled. Centered.
Suddenly, there was a sound. Not a sound in his ears, but a sound inside his head. The sound of grinding sand, the hiss of wind through rocks, the slow, steady beat of his own heart. It was the sound of himself, of every one of his cells, which he could now hear.
In an instant, his scattered new consciousness coalesced. He was no longer just sensing himself; he was himself, a whole entity separate from the world around him. His spirit fire—his Ling Huǒ—had ignited.
He opened his eyes. The world was no longer the same. Everything emitted a faint glow, its own energy aura. The Blood Iron trees shone with a dim green light, the Moonlight Moss emitted a pale blue mist, and from within the tunnel, the Pure Spiritual Root glowed like a buried miniature sun, radiating a powerful golden-yellow light.
Zhuo looked at his claws. He himself was shrouded in a shimmering blanket of energy, a greenish-bronze color with pearlescent spots that pulsed in rhythm with his breath. For the first time, he understood that he was different. That he was changing.
This awareness brought with it a wave of confusing new emotions: awe, pride, and... a profound vulnerability. Now he knew what he had, and he knew it could be taken.
That worry proved to be well-founded.
The next day, the scent returned. Stronger. Closer.
Zhuo, with his newly enhanced perception, detected it from a much greater distance. His heart pounded, not just with instinct, but with conscious fear. He slipped back into the crevice, hiding his energy aura as best he could—a trick he'd learned accidentally by holding his breath and focusing his mind.
They came again. Three of them this time. The two from before and a new one. This new one was older, with a graying beard, and eyes as sharp as an eagle's. His energy aura was far stronger, more focused, like a drawn sword compared to the staffs of the others. An early-stage Soul Reminder.
"Where?" the old man said, his voice rough like grating stone.
"Around here, Master Chen," the Senior Brother replied respectfully. "About a moon cycle ago. We felt a strong concentration of Earth Qi, but only found small flakes. We thought there might be a deeper vein we missed."
Master Chen pulled an object from his robe—a bronze disk with a spinning needle. A Qi Compass. The needle vibrated, then spun wildly, pointing straight towards Zhuo's crevice.
Zhuo, peeking from behind a crack, felt his blood run cold. They had a tool to find his home!
"There," murmured Master Chen, his eyes narrowing. "The concentration... is strange. Not like a normal Earth Qi vein. More... alive."
They approached. Zhuo could hear their heartbeats, could smell the cold sweat of the nervous Junior Brother. He felt Master Chen's aura sweep the area like a net, brushing against his hidden aura. The old man's eyes flickered, then focused on the crevice.
"There's something inside," he said, his voice cautious. "Some form of animal life, but its aura... is unusual. Be careful."
The Senior Brother raised his staff. "Perhaps a low-class demon beast, Master. Grown strong from living near the Qi vein."
"Demon beast?" Master Chen sounded skeptical. "In this remote mountain? Rare. But possible." He sighed. "Just kill it. Take what crystals you can carry. Don't damage the root if there is one."
The order was given so easily. Just kill it. Zhuo understood the intent. He was no longer just a wild beast; he was a nuisance, an obstacle to be removed.
The Junior Brother stepped forward, his staff raised, his face pale but determined. He peered into the crevice. His eyes met Zhuo's.
There was a shock there, at the gleam of intelligence in Zhuo's eyes, at his now-unnatural size. The Junior Brother hesitated.
"What is it?" snapped the Senior Brother.
"It... it's huge, Senior Brother. And its eyes..."
Cornered, fear flooding him, Zhuo did the only thing he could think of. He took a deep breath, gathering all the energy he had absorbed over weeks—the stable, powerful earth energy—and... exhaled.
It wasn't a blast of fire or element. It was a focused exhalation of raw energy, a shockwave made of pure Earth Qi. The air in front of him vibrated and congealed like invisible lava, hitting the Junior Brother in the chest.
WHOOF!
The Junior Brother was thrown backward, staggering, gasping for air. There was no visible wound, but his face paled, and he trembled violently, as if his very bones were vibrating. It was an attack on his physical core.
"Qi attack!" shouted Master Chen, astonished. "No ordinary beast! It's a Yao Jing! Capture it alive! Its core will be far more valuable!"
Zhuo's fear turned to pure panic. He had warned them, but now they wanted more than just his crystals. They wanted him.
The Senior Brother advanced, his staff whirling, emitting a thin green energy. Master Chen drew a silver rope from his belt, ready to throw it.
Zhuo had no choice. In desperation, he turned and plunged into the darkness of the tunnel, towards the deadly song of the Spiritual Root. He chose the destruction he knew over capture by the unknown foreigners.
He rushed into the darkness, down the tunnel, towards the heart of the mountain, with the angry shouts of the humans echoing behind him. His sanctuary had become a trap, and the only way out was to plunge deeper into the danger. The hunt had begun.