The sun had barely risen when Li Shen arrived at the Mission Hall. The air inside carried the faint scent of incense and ink — a mixture of reverence and routine that only a sect's inner workings could produce.
He approached the mission desk where a young deacon sat, his face calm, eyes flicking over jade slips that recorded the daily postings.
"Iron Fang Rabbit Subjugation," Li Shen said with a slight bow, his tone respectful but steady.
The deacon nodded. "Body Tempering – Early requirement. You meet the qualifications." He handed over a slip of jade glowing faintly with spiritual script. "Remember, Moonridge Hill is shrouded in constant mist. Do not underestimate the Iron Fang Rabbits. Their claws are sharper than steel, and they move faster than the eye can follow."
Li Shen clasped his hands in thanks. "Understood."
As he turned to leave, his steps were light but deliberate. For the first time since joining the Verdant Cloud Sect, he would walk beyond its gates — not as a mortal, but as a cultivator embarking on his first mission.
Before departing, he stopped at the Exchang Pavilion, where a steward in green robes weighed coins and stones with meticulous precision.
"One sect coin to one silver or one hundred copper," the steward explained.
Li Shen thought for a moment. "Exchange thirty sect coins to copper."
The steward nodded, the coins clinking softly as they were transferred into a small pouch.
With his funds in hand, Li Shen browsed the nearby stalls. As this is his first hunter experience in a forest of danger, he knew instinct alone would not suffice.
He purchased:
A small vial of Spirit Repelling Powder, effective against low-level beasts.A beast-skin pouch reinforced with thin metal threads for carrying cores safely.A coil of hempen rope, lightweight yet strong enough to suspend prey.A ration pack of dried spiritual grains — enough to sustain a cultivator for three days.A small sharpening whetstone to keep his Iron Spirit Blade keen.And finally, a bamboo whistle — a simple signal tool, but invaluable should one encounter allies or need to ward off beasts sensitive to high frequencies.
After securing the items, he fastened his robe, slung the pouch across his shoulder, and began his descent.
The Verdant Cloud Sect rested atop towering cliffs, surrounded by ancient forests that breathed life and qi into the very air. The path downward spiraled like a serpent's spine — steep, uneven, and enveloped by drifting clouds.
For two kilometers, Li Shen walked in silence. He could feel the crisp mountain air filling his lungs, merging naturally with the flow of his Verdant Breathing Art. His heart was calm; his steps were steady.
The world beyond the sect was vast and alive. He passed merchants with loaded carts, villagers carrying firewood, and the occasional sect disciple traveling in small groups. Mortals would bow slightly as he passed — not in servitude, but in awe. To them, cultivators were beings who had stepped half a foot into the realm of immortality.
Li Shen, once one of them, could only nod humbly. Power brought distance, but he vowed never to let it bring arrogance.
By midday, the path widened into a forest trail, and the silhouette of Moonridge Hill appeared on the horizon — a range veiled perpetually in mist, as though the heavens had lowered their clouds to kiss the earth.
The closer he came, the heavier the air grew. Dew hung on every leaf, the fog twisting and shifting like living spirits. The sound of birds diminished, replaced by a silence that was neither empty nor peaceful — but waiting.
"This is where I'll hunt…" Li Shen murmured, unsheathing his Iron Spirit Blade. The weapon reflected the fog like liquid glass.
He took a deep breath, his senses sharpening.
At first, the hunt was clumsy. He was too eager, his steps too loud. The Iron Fang Rabbits — creatures the size of dogs, with grey fur and claws like daggers — darted through the mist, their shadows vanishing before he could even strike.
Thud!
His first slash hit nothing but air. The blade hummed faintly, and a gust of wind followed, but the rabbit was gone.
"So fast…" Li Shen exhaled, narrowing his eyes.
He remembered the description — swift movements, sharp claws. But he had underestimated their intelligence. The rabbits did not move randomly; they studied their prey. Twice, one feigned retreat only to circle behind him, claws slashing at his leg.
He barely deflected with a turn, sparks flying as claw met steel.
"Instinct, not thought," he reminded himself, recalling the words of his master before he left. "The forest favors those who feel, not those who think."
So he closed his eyes.
He let the Verdant Blade Form flow through him — no longer as practiced movements, but as living instinct.
Fourth Form Shifting Wind
His breath aligned with the rhythm of the forest. Each rustle of leaf, each twitch of air, became part of his perception. He no longer looked for his prey — he felt it.
When the next Iron Fang Rabbit lunged, its outline blurred in the mist — but Li Shen was already moving. His blade cut horizontally, gliding through the air as if slicing through water.
A clean, silent strike.
Blood misted the air, warm against the morning chill.
The rabbit fell.
A faint glow pulsed within its chest — a beast core, about the size of a walnut. Li Shen knelt, retrieving it with quiet reverence before sealing it in his pouch.
"Not bad for a first," he muttered. But there was no pride in his tone — only understanding.
This was the true path of cultivation — the endless sharpening of body, mind, and will.
Hours passed. Each battle was a lesson, each wound a teacher.
He learned that the Iron Fang Rabbits hunted in pairs — one to distract, the other to strike.
He learned that mist distorted sound, but spiritual sense cut through it like light through shadow.
He learned that speed was meaningless without control — and control was born only from calmness.
By the time dusk settled, four cores rested in his pouch. His robe was torn at the shoulder, a faint scratch marked his cheek, and his breath came steady but heavy.
In the silence of the fading day, he sat upon a moss-covered rock, wiping the blood from his blade.
He thought back to the sect. To his training. To the system's power that had granted him mastery in an instant.
The system could optimize his proficiency, perfect his body, and refine his qi. But understanding — that could not be bestowed.
Each strike, each parry, each drop of sweat was an imprint upon his soul.
He looked toward the mist where his last prey had fallen. "So this is what it means to hunt," he said softly. "To walk the thin line between predator and prey… and to never let arrogance blind you."
As the last light of day faded beyond the hills, Li Shen stood. His blade gleamed faintly, its edge cold yet alive.
He turned back toward the distant mountain where the Verdant Cloud Sect stood hidden among the clouds.
Today, he had not merely slain beasts.
He had slain the hesitation of a novice.