Qiren clamped both hands over his mouth, terrified that even a single gasp would give him away.
The furious cry overhead rattled the branches, but he didn't dare look. If he so much as tilted his head, he'd be spotted—he was lying right behind the very trees he had jumped through when attacking the first two vultures.
The moment he stabbed those birds in the eyes, he'd toppled into a bush-covered ditch and decided then and there to stay hidden.
Huff… huff…
The leaves above him trembled as something heavy landed nearby, parting the greenery just enough to let in a sliver of moonlight.
There was something like that living inside the tree? he thought, remembering the glimpse he'd caught of the enormous vulture—easily the size of a small car.
His worldview cracked again. Sure, the vultures here were already big, but he expected them to stay roughly the size of a garden bin—not evolve into sedan-sized monsters.
His earlier plan to assassinate every demon beast while they slept suddenly felt delusional. Even if he managed to silently kill the rest of the flock, when it came to their leader—or whatever that colossal creature was—he doubted his beak-blades would even scratch it.
A few minutes later, the forest stirred. Through the gaps in the bushes, he saw the entire flock taking off, wings beating in the same direction: toward the mountain that crowned the horizon.
Qiren remained still until the last shadow vanished.
Only then did he crawl out, brushing leaves from his hair.
His satchel—hastily stitched earlier—was torn in two places.
He didn't curse, afraid something might be listening, and quietly repaired the frame with fresh branches, retied the hide, and stuffed it full of feathers again.
Then he hurried across the clearing, scooping up every misfortune berry he had infused with his curses. If he wanted to escape before the flock returned, he needed to move.
He headed in the opposite direction of the vultures… only to stop mid-step.
A faint shimmer pulsed behind his eyes—another vision of the amethyst mountain, the same one that had flashed before. A tug pulled at his chest, subtle but persistent, like invisible threads urging him closer.
Qiren shook his head and forced himself onward.
But the forest refused to let him ignore it.
Insects buzzed overhead in a steady stream, all flying toward that same mountain.
Small birds followed soon after.
Then a trio of infant demons stumbled past him—yet none attacked. They merely hissed weakly and continued on, as if compelled by something deeper than fear or hunger.
Concern prickled up his spine.
He ducked behind a bush and watched.
More creatures arrived. Big, small, crawling, slithering—every kind of demon in the forest drifted toward the amethyst peak.
Some clashed when their paths crossed, tearing at each other with teeth and claws, but whoever survived simply staggered back into place and continued on toward the mountain.
Qiren swallowed.
If the whole forest was heading there… there had to be a reason.
His grip tightened on the dagger at his side. He adjusted his satchel and finally—reluctantly—stepped from hiding.
"Fine," he muttered. "If everyone is going… then I'll at least find out why."
And so he followed the silent migration toward the mountain that refused to leave his mind.
Qiren moved low through the forest, alert, crouched, never stepping into open ground. Brush and trunks shielded him as he traveled, and he kept careful count of the slow, steady pulse inside him—a byproduct of his necklace. Every six seconds, a soft pull:
+0.4 Negative Karma
+0.1 Refinement Qi
It didn't seem like much. But after an hour?
He had gained:
+220 Negative Karma and +55 Refinement Qi, on top of his earlier:
115.9 Negative Karma and 25.2 Refinement Qi.
Total:
335.9 Negative Karma
80.2 Refinement Qi
Was that impressive? Or just a child's handful of sand compared to a matured demon? He had no idea.
He had one pair of eyes on his face, and the other positioned behind his head.It let him move without ever needing to turn around—he could track anyone following him and change direction instantly if danger closed in.
How much does throwing a needle actually cost?
He pinched a strand of hair.
Refinement Qi: 78 ↓
In an instant, the strand hardened into something harder than metal—no, even denser. Qi spiraled slowly around it, feeding into it.
He twirled it lightly. "It still drains Qi even after forming…"
The needle grew straighter, firmer.
So the more Qi it drinks, the more refined it becomes…?
Qiren looked toward the trees, considering testing it on something living—then grimaced.
"Great. That's my first instinct: test it on something that breathes."
He flicked his fingers sharply.
SWISH—THUD!
The needle shot forward and buried itself in a trunk.
"Not my best throw. But if I aim at things my height… the accuracy isn't hopeless."
He counted.
One… two… three… four.
The strand softened, half of it still stuck in the bark.
He opened his inner sea. His mental scroll updated itself.
Refinement Qi: 65.9 ↓
"Thirteen units for one needle," he muttered. He pulled a misfortune berry from his bag. "But reshaping this thing doesn't even cost that much."
He crushed the berry. Black miasma leaked from his fingertips and reformed it instantly.
Refinement Qi: 65.8 ↓
"…So what exactly am I missing?"
The forest gave no answer. Eventually, he continued east.
A soft roar of water met him. He slipped through tall reeds and found a narrow river. But he wasn't alone.
A newborn demon knelt at the edge, half an eggshell still stuck to its head like a helmet—freshly hatched, barely aware of the world.
Qiren considered waiting. Or circling around.
Then the little demon snapped its head up and locked eyes with him.
"GRRRAA!!" It roared, claws extended.
Qiren's expression darkened. The same primal urge he felt in the first nest flickered inside him—violence answering violence.
He forced a steady breath and backed into the reeds.
"…I'm trying to be a good senior," he muttered. "I'm swallowing my pride. I'm giving you a chance to walk away…"
The newborn took his retreat as fear and strutted after him proudly.
But then—
Four red lights blinked to life in the shadows behind Qiren.
The newborn froze mid-strut.
Its smug bravado evaporated into terror.
Before it could react—
Fwip! Fwip! Fwip! Fwip! Fwip!
Five needles shot from the reeds.
One sliced its cheek.
Another tore through its shoulder.
Three drove into its legs.
"SKRRREEE—!!"
The newborn collapsed onto the riverbank.
Qiren stepped forward, voice flat.
"I said I was trying to be a good senior and wait for you to leave. But you insist on making that difficult."
He lifted his foot to approach—
—CROOOAK.
A deep, wet sound rippled from behind the reeds.
Qiren froze.
Something enormous shifted in the mud.
Then—
SLAP—!!
A massive tongue shot out, wrapped around the newborn, and yanked it away.
"GRRRAA—!!"
CHOMP.
Silence.
Qiren stared, jaw loose.
"…A toad," he whispered. "That was a toad."
He slowly backed away.
"Note to self… rivers are death traps."
He crouched low, his second pair of eyes shifting back to the rear of his head.
Across the water, he watched a massive green amphibian hop to the riverbank, its throat bulging as it scanned the area.
Qiren retreated from the stream in silence.
He walked for hours. His Negative Karma grew, his Qi rose in steady pulses, and he tested his aim whenever it was safe. Eventually, exhaustion caught up with him.
He needed rest.
So he looked for the only thing in this cursed forest that had consistently saved his life:
A shrub.
"…Ha. Have I seriously become some kind of nature hermit?" he muttered.
This made it the fourth time he'd ended up hiding in a bush.
He rummaged through his satchel and set several cursed fruits around the shrub like makeshift protective wards. Then he dug into the soil and half-buried himself, covering his body with dirt and leaves until only his head was hidden beneath the foliage.
He exhaled slowly as stillness settled around him, then closed his eyes and checked his numbers.
Negative Karma: 1,055.9 ↑
Refinement Qi: 37.1 ↑