Chapter 2 – The Storm and the Saber
The morning mist clung to the trees as Long Tan walked the narrow path alone.
The forest of Cloud Veil was quiet, but never safe.
Other hunters moved in groups, loud with talk and greed, but he preferred silence.
Robberies were common now.
One spirit stone could turn a man into a murderer.
He hid his Qi completely.
The breathing art he'd found in that tattered scroll years ago — Hidden Flow Breathing — let him control his aura so well that even beasts couldn't sense him easily.
It was the only thing he'd mastered quickly in fifteen years of cultivation.
With his presence masked, he slipped through the undergrowth like a shadow, eyes calm and alert.
He passed three hunting teams but none noticed him.
That was the way he liked it — unseen, untouched, alive.
---
A Lonely Hunt
Deep in the forest, far from the busy paths, he found a clearing surrounded by fallen trunks.
The smell of blood drifted faintly through the damp air.
Something had hunted here recently.
He crouched, touching the ground — footprints, long and narrow, claws sharp as blades.
A Steel-Claw Ape, a low-rank demon beast.
Stronger than an average Qi Condensation cultivator, known for its metal-hardened claws.
Long Tan steadied his breath.
His Qi circulated quietly through his meridians — slow, firm, without leaking an ounce of killing intent.
He moved around the clearing, hiding behind broken trees, step by step closing the distance.
When he was within twenty feet, the beast turned suddenly, nostrils flaring.
Its eyes gleamed with faint red light.
> "So you sensed me after all," he muttered.
The ape roared, leaping forward.
Long Tan drew his saber, its steel flashing once in the dim light.
The first clash rang like metal against metal —
the ape's claw blocked his slash perfectly, sparks flying.
The creature grinned, saliva dripping from its fangs.
---
The Battle
Long Tan exhaled, stepping back half a pace.
The ape pounded the ground and lunged again, claws tearing through bark and stone.
He dodged sideways, using his free hand to weave a basic fire art.
Qi gathered in his palm — unstable, weak, but enough.
"Fire Burst!"
A small flame exploded forward, striking the ape's chest.
The smell of burning fur filled the air.
The beast screamed, skin cracking under the heat.
But pain only made it madder.
With a roar, it charged blindly, swinging both claws like twin blades.
Each strike carried raw power — too much for Long Tan to block head-on.
He shifted, parried one claw, deflected the next, and rolled aside as the third nearly grazed his shoulder.
The ape turned fast, smashing its tail into the ground, stones flying.
Long Tan slid back, breathing hard.
His saber hand trembled slightly, but his eyes stayed calm.
He waited, measuring the beast's rhythm — three quick strikes, then a pause.
On the next charge, he ducked low and sliced at the wrist.
The blade bit deep; black blood splattered the soil.
The ape howled, clutching its bleeding arm.
He didn't stop — one more strike, clean and fierce, severed the remaining claw.
Now desperate, the creature slammed forward, mouth wide to bite.
Long Tan twisted aside and thrust upward, the saber piercing through its jaw and into its skull.
The light in the ape's eyes dimmed slowly.
It collapsed, shaking the earth.
Long Tan stayed still for a moment, panting quietly.
Then he pulled the blade free, wiped it clean on the beast's fur, and sheathed it.
---
After the Fight
The forest was silent again, except for the rustle of leaves.
He squatted beside the body, studying it like a craftsman inspecting his work.
> "Qi Condensation – first level equivalent," he muttered.
"Strong body, poor mind. It fought well."
He pressed his fingers to its chest, guiding Qi carefully.
After a moment, a dull grey core emerged — small, barely the size of a marble.
> "Low quality," he sighed. "Still worth two stones."
He stored the core and lifted the carcass into his small storage bag.
It was cheap and limited — barely big enough for one beast.
Then he sat cross-legged, drank a mouthful of his own Qi Recovery Wine, and closed his eyes.
Warmth spread through his body as faint Qi refilled his dantian.
He chewed a dry biscuit, let his breathing steady, and meditated quietly.
After a short rest, he stood and began searching the nearby area for herbs.
But the ground was bare — no Spirit Moss, no Silver Grass, not even Wild Ginseng.
Only trampled roots and claw marks.
> "The ape must have eaten them all," he murmured, disappointed.
"That explains why it stayed here."
He gazed at the sky.
The sun had already passed its peak.
It was time to return.
---
The Storm Breaks
He started down the trail toward the village.
Halfway through the slope, the wind shifted.
A cold gust brushed his face, and the air turned heavy.
The light dimmed.
> "Strange," he whispered. "Too early for evening."
The forest went still.
Even insects fell silent.
Then — boom!
A thunderclap exploded across the mountain, shaking the ground under his feet.
Rain began without warning, thick and violent.
The scent of ozone filled the air.
He ran, boots splashing through mud, trying to find cover.
Lightning flickered through the trees — one strike, then another, each closer than the last.
A blinding flash tore through the ridge ahead, hitting the ground so hard it cracked the earth open.
Long Tan threw himself sideways, barely dodging as stones shattered around him.
The noise was deafening.
Another strike came down — the world turned white.
The shockwave hurled him backward.
He crashed into the mud, rolling until his leg jammed between two rocks.
Pain shot up his body.
He struggled to pull free, but the ground shook again.
The next bolt of lightning struck the cliff above, splitting it apart.
Flaming fragments rained down.
He raised his arm to shield his face, heart pounding.
Then — a final flash.
Brighter, louder, heavier than any before.
It struck directly beside him.
The earth exploded.
A roar of light and thunder swallowed everything.
Something slammed into his chest — burning, searing — and his mind went blank.
---
As the storm raged, the cracked ground began to glow faintly.
The spilled rainwater mixed with traces of spirit energy and… wine.
A faint, golden ripple spread across the mud where Long Tan had fallen.
It pulsed once — like a heartbeat —
then sank quietly into his body.
The rain kept falling.
The thunder rolled farther away.
And Long Tan lay motionless beneath the storm.