I stood in Dusk bane Outpost's bustling market, the Jawbreaker Beast Hammer heavy in my hands, its bone head etched with runes that pulsed with latent qi.
My pack, lighter now after selling my haul, but I still held the three martial art tomes. My lightning-laced Ember coil scales crackled faintly, my Meridians still tingling from their new growth at the Iron Spike Canyons. With 530 iron coins from earlier trades, I had sought to maximize my gains, approaching a vendor's stall draped in vibrant cloths, its counter lined with jars of glowing herbs and fruits. The vendor, a wiry woman with braided hair and a scar across her cheek, eyed my pack. "Got anything rare?" she asked, her voice sharp with interest.
I pulled out the three bitter blood oranges, their crimson rinds pulsing faintly. "From the Starlit Groves," I said, my tone steady. "qi-rich, perfect for elixirs." The woman's eyes widened, tasting the air with a practiced sniff. "Bitter bloods? Rare find. Eighty coins for the lot." I sensed no deceit in her scent, my ember coil senses sharp. I nodded, handing over the oranges and pocketing the coins, my new total now 610.
The sale stung—I'd felt their qi-boosting effects before—but the coins could fund cultivation resources for my next steps. As I stepped beyond the outpost's torchlit walls, heading toward the open wilds to hunt and train, suddenly a tremor rippled through the ground. Not from me. I crouched low, my scales flaring, senses open—but the earth stilled as quickly as it had stirred.
A warning, maybe.
The Beast Vein Continent was said to have a living will. I gripped my hammer, its weight grounding me, and scanned the horizon. I darted ahead with the cloud step feather sigil in mind, lightening my over all weight load.
Dark clouds churned above, unnatural in their speed, their edges flickering with an eerie green glow. A storm was coming, and it tasted wrong—bitter, like poison on my tongue, disrupting the flow of my qi.
The sky broke before I could find shelter. A sudden, howling gale swept through, laced with fine, shimmering pollen from some unknown plant. The pollen stung my skin, and my chi faltered, the fiery, lightning-laced pulse of my ember coil core stuttering. My scales sparked erratically, and a predatory urge surged—a primal, alien impulse to lash out, to burn and shock anything in my path.
"Whoa, did I just think that?" I muttered, clenching my jaw. I circulated the Sacred Breath technique to steady my qi flow. The ember coil's volatile essence was merging deeper, its instincts threatening to override my own. I fought it back, my hammer's runes glowing faintly, anchoring my intent. The storm raged, forcing me to take cover under a rocky overhang. As I crouched, the rain-soaked ground revealed something else: tracks, fresh and humanoid, their light, deliberate steps cutting through the mud.
Not a beast's. Someone else had passed here recently, their trail leading toward the Iron spike Canyons. My senses sharpened, tasting a faint, sweaty tang in the air. I wasn't the only one hunting. The storm passed as quickly as it came, leaving the air heavy but clear. My qi stabilized, but the pollen's effect lingered, my beast crystal's growth slowed by the disruption.
I needed to hunt valuable beasts to build up my coin and by extension my qi reserves. Moving cautiously, I tracked a pair of shadow pelt wolves, their dark furs prized by Dusk Bane's Armorers. I felled them with hammer strikes, my scales shocking jolts stunning the beasts. I harvested their pelts and hearts, adding them to my pack. A lone Crested Viper yielded another venom sac, its value high in the outpost's markets. Returning to Dusk Bane, I sold my haul for 150 iron coins, bringing my total to 750.
The Jawbreaker Beast Hammer felt alive in my hands, its qi resonance amplifying my lightning-laced strikes. But the mysterious tracks gnawed at me. Determined to find clues to the identity of the tracks, I sought out the hunters' guild, a stone hall marked with a carved wolf's head, its doors open to the market's din.
Inside, grizzled hunters swapped tales of beasts and bounties, their scales and scars glinting under torchlight. I approached a grizzled clerk in gray wolf fur, a clear sign of his storm fang wolf bond.
"Seen anyone tracking new cultivators?" I asked, my voice low. "Found fresh tracks outside, humanoid, heading toward the Iron spike Canyons." The clerk's eyes narrowed, tasting the air. "Could be a rogue initiate, failed their hunt and turned scavenger. Or worse—a Blood claw mercenary. They hunt bonded youths for cores." He leaned closer. "Check the bounty board. Might find a lead." I scanned the board, its parchments listing beasts and rogues.
One caught his eye: a bounty for a "shadow stalker," a failed initiate named Kael, last seen near the canyons, preying on new cultivators. My qi surged, scales crackling. I could hunt Kael and train my Hidden Dragon Palm further.
The Beast Vein Continent had pushed back today, but my lightning-laced defiance burned brighter.