He retreated from his own hallucination and clutched his satchel like a shield.
The beetle girl gave him a puzzled look before fluttering away.
Qiren blinked, then shook his head.
"The future can be walked one step at a time," he murmured, opening his satchel.
"If I'm not strong enough, there'll be no opportunity for wife-searching. Not that I plan on marrying again in this unknown hell—unless I want to fall under some temptress's charm and have my spirit torn apart when she can't find her next meal."
He rummaged through the bag—pushing aside several Cursed Berries and Vulture Beaks—then began stringing together his extra Taijitu pieces.
Inside the satchel, he bound eight Spirit Cores and Daoist Apertures into a second chain using fibers harvested from the hawk's bush vines, breaking and peeling them into workable strands.
"Should this necklace boost my Qi and karma gain now?" he muttered. "It should, since I've doubled the number of trophies I'm wearing."
He slipped the necklace on and waited.
There was no surge of added increments—no karma or Qi flooding his spiritual veins, no pressure bursting through his body with overwhelming force.
In fact, he didn't feel a change at all until he willed his status scroll to unravel in his mind.
"It's just slightly more Qi," he muttered. "After a few seconds, I still get the fixed 0.1… then another 0.1 right after. My karma's still the same, though…"
When the results fully sank in, disappointment twisted his expression.
It really was tied to sin level—or emotional attachment.
His massive initial boost had come from collecting the original seven Taijitu pieces.
At that time, killing had been difficult. Even if he thought of the vultures as wild animals, he had spent the better part of his life healing people—not harming them, nor animals.
So the sin of finally taking a life, and holding onto their remains, had generated a higher rate of negative karma and Qi.
The new set of four Daoist Apertures and four Spirit Cores—paired with the old chain—failed to double his gains because he had grown accustomed to killing.
That thought was terrifying.
If his necklace's gain reflected his level of sin… then was murder now this insignificant to him?
He smiled faintly. So gathering Taijitu wouldn't be his main priority anymore—or perhaps he needed higher-quality ones.
He looked at the creatures before him.
"…I need to find a new kind of trophy."
Qiren stared off into the night, his goals quietly shifting.
They passed overflowing streams, clusters of cowering hatchlings, and lone wanderers, taking short rests when needed. Some demons pushed forward; others landed whenever one landed—preferring to recover with company rather than stop alone.
Eventually, they reached a river slicing through the forest.
"Finally, fresh water," Qiren murmured, cupping his hands and lifting them to the maw at his throat.
He drank with the thirst of a man lost in the desert.
Beside him, a winged fledgling—the term he'd given to all small flying demons—dipped its lip into the water with several others. From afar, it almost looked peaceful.
A serene display of comfort—a fleeting sense of calm and camaraderie as they drank from the same stream like sworn brothers.
Reality was far crueler.
Another corpse drifted by. Two demons fought in the river over its soul.
A third swooped in laughing, stole the core, and left the first two clutching nothing but fading spirit mist.
The drenched demons screeched and gave chase.
Flap! Flap!
Four more took off after them.
Within seconds, half the group had scattered.
The demon beside Qiren glanced at him. Seeing his expression fixed on the drifting body, it mistook his silence for fear.
Its claws ground together as it slowly spread its open palm, a single thought taking root in its mind.
If he wasn't riding the hawk… maybe it could take him.
Qiren understood immediately.
He inhaled once, then slashed its face.
The demon jerked back, stunned. It tried to flee—but his hair lashed out, binding its limbs. He dragged it close and clamped his hand around its throat.
It thrashed.
He tightened his grip.
"Keh—keh—!"
Its claws scraped uselessly against him.
Qiren's eyes darkened.
His mouths opened slowly as the fledgling realized, with dawning horror, that he meant to swallow its soul alive.
His fingers tightened. Its face purpled.
"Keh—keh!!"
The others watched with blank indifference.
"Still want to challenge me?" Qiren pressed his forehead against its skull.
It didn't understand the words; it snapped at him blindly.
Qiren yanked back, released his hair, and let it drop.
The demon scrambled away and vanished into the trees.
He almost sent the hawk after it—but didn't.
"Anyone else want to try?" he asked.
They all drifted back at once.
Qiren sighed and climbed onto the hawk. Its branch-like feathers made it easy.
With a tug, the beast lifted above the canopy.
Ahead, two demons tormented one of the deserters—ripping off its wings, then dropping the screaming body before diving after it.
It was the same demon that had tried to attack him.
"Sigh… I may as well have taken its soul myself," he muttered.
He tended to his wound—the fledgling's nail marks—wrapping them in layered leaves and vines.
They continued for hours, gliding over canopy after canopy.
Negative Karma: 0.4 ↑↓
Refinement Qi: 43 ↑↓
Refinement Realm (Early Stage): 43 / 43
So that's my max capacity after all. I thought my Qi could be stored infinitely…
By now, they had been traveling nearly five hours—judging by his diminishing lifespan. A strange thing, knowing exactly when he would die… stranger still to use it to keep time.
"The mountain's close," he whispered, noticing a flock of five-winged birds circling above it.
He glanced at the demons around him, watching for their reactions.
Qiren wanted to know what they would do next—whether they would descend, hide, or wait for the birds to move on.
Their expressions brightened.
There wasn't a hint of hesitation as they climbed higher.
They weren't fearless—just opportunistic.
Their eyes locked onto the mountain, pupils narrowing as strange excitement rippled through the group—
"Grrrkk… skreee-raaah…"