Chapter 3 – Forests Alone
The forest was alive with whispers. Branches swayed overhead, their shadows dancing like spirits across the forest floor. Lin Feng's steps were unsteady, his body battered, yet each footfall was deliberate.
It had been two days since he swallowed the Blood-Recovery Pill. The warmth of its effects was long gone, replaced by gnawing hunger and the dull ache of wounds not fully healed. His lips cracked from thirst, his stomach roared like a caged beast.
Even so, his eyes burned with determination.
Every instinct told him that if he faltered here, he would be nothing more than another corpse feeding the wilderness.
---
By noon, Lin Feng came upon a shallow stream, its water glimmering like liquid jade beneath the sunlight. Relief surged through him. He dropped to his knees, cupped the cool liquid, and drank greedily until his parched throat no longer burned.
But his relief didn't last long.
In the depths of the stream, he noticed something strange: faint motes of light drifting within the water, tiny sparks of essence that danced like fireflies. Spiritual energy.
Lin Feng's heart raced. This is no ordinary stream… it's a spirit-vein tributary.
Streams like this were sacred to cultivators. They carried faint traces of heaven and earth energy, nourishing not only the land but also rare herbs that grew nearby. Where such a stream flowed, treasures could be found.
His stomach twisted again, reminding him of his hunger. He scanned the banks carefully, and sure enough—he found them.
A cluster of fruits grew from a thick vine curling up a nearby boulder. Each fruit glowed with faint golden light, the air around them humming softly. His clan's teachings surged back into his mind.
"Spirit-Nourishing Fruit."
A divine treasure among mortals. Even a single fruit could strengthen qi circulation, heal minor wounds, and nourish the body like a full meal.
Lin Feng's throat tightened. His father had once told him these fruits could spark the cultivation of even the most ordinary mortal. Now, one grew before him.
He plucked the nearest fruit and bit into it. The taste was sweet beyond words, warm like liquid sunlight. His hunger eased instantly, his body shivered with newfound vitality, and faint waves of qi flowed into his dantian.
But the forest was never generous without price.
The water rippled.
The air grew heavy, the hairs on Lin Feng's neck rising. Slowly, he turned his gaze downstream.
A pair of amber eyes glowed beneath the surface.
The water surged upward, and from it emerged a beast larger than any horse—scales gleaming like bronze, claws slicing the current, jaws lined with jagged teeth.
A Bronze-Scaled River Serpent.
Lin Feng froze. His blood turned to ice. He had read of such creatures in clan texts—ranked among the Qi Condensation Beasts, born from spiritual veins. Ordinary hunters would never dare approach their territory.
And here he was, standing on its riverbank, fruit juice still on his lips.
The serpent hissed, its tongue flicking, tasting his scent. Its coils rippled, sending waves crashing against the shore.
Lin Feng's grip tightened on the assassin's sword strapped to his back. His body screamed to run, but instinct roared louder:
There is nowhere to flee.
The beast surged forward, water exploding around it. Its massive body struck like a whip, jaws wide, fangs gleaming.
Lin Feng's breath caught. He rolled desperately aside, the serpent's strike smashing into the earth where he had stood, soil erupting like shattered stone.
His heart thundered. Just one blow would have ended him.
The serpent turned, its eyes burning with killing intent. Lin Feng drew the assassin's sword, its weight alien in his hands. He raised it before him, knees bent, breath ragged.
He remembered his father's voice: "A spear pierces the heavens, a sword defends life. When you are weak, boy, the sword is your shield."
The serpent lunged again.
Lin Feng slashed, steel ringing against scale. Sparks flew, the blade barely leaving a scratch. The impact numbed his arm, pain shooting through his bones.
He staggered back, chest heaving. Fear threatened to swallow him whole, yet something inside—something deeper than flesh—burned hotter.
The pulse in his blood surged again. His vision sharpened, the serpent's movements slowing as if the world itself hesitated. The air around him trembled.
Was this… the awakening of his Primordial Lin Bloodline?
The serpent struck once more, jaws gaping. This time Lin Feng did not flee. He leapt aside at the last instant, his sword thrusting upward with every ounce of his strength.
Steel met flesh.
The blade slid between scales and into the serpent's eye. The beast roared, thrashing violently, water exploding around them. Lin Feng was thrown backward, crashing into the muddy bank, pain searing through his body.
Yet he saw it—blood pouring from the serpent's ruined eye, its massive body writhing in agony.
It wasn't dead. But it was wounded.
Lin Feng forced himself to his feet, blood running down his forehead, vision blurred. His hands trembled around the sword, but his grip did not loosen.p