My hands were blistered by the time the crimson sun slipped toward the horizon. Salt clung to my hair, and my clothes reeked of old tar and fresh sweat.
Still—my breath moved freely, my steps were firm, and the world no longer pulsed like an infected wound. I was alive. "Oi!" came a voice from above the mainmast rigging.
It was Skrat, a mop-armed, sea-wizened deckhand with a missing ear and too many keys hanging from his belt. "Captain says yer quarters are open now. Follow the gull stink—second hatch past the bone net racks."
I followed the creaking catwalk down a narrow stairwell. Crimson lanterns lit the corridors, each bearing a clan sigil or scrawled prayer ward. Finally, I reached a small metal-banded door, marked only by a glyph: ⵔ—a symbol meaning anchor in High Typhoon Script. I opened the door.
My room was barely more than a closet, but it was private had a Hammock. Washbasin. And a reinforced travel chest bolted to the wall. A bone hook lantern swung gently from above, giving off a low amber glow.
I sat cross-legged and poured thin wisps of Intent into the Spirit bracelet.
The beaded-links shimmered, then let out a low qi chime as the inventory field unfurled into a translucent grid in front of me.
Pocket Inventory: Ashriel ''Grey'' ember coil – Clan less
Martial Tomes 5 & Ancestral Scroll 1.
The core of my inner technique—the Hidden Dragon Palm, Sacred breath Technique, and Cloud Step mobility technique.
Spirit Fruit x7
Still potent. Still volatile. consuming too many at once risked inner rupture, but they accelerated qi development like nothing else.
Sun God Dew 2 drops.
I stared at these precious treasures.
Just two drops left.
Each one was worth a city's ransom.
Life-saving. Soul-sealing.
And capable of adding one hundred fifty years of life to a cultivator.
I remembered the searing gold light each time I used one—and how close I'd come to fraying my qi before.
I still had my Yew Bow and twenty Bone-Tip Arrows:
A Ranged weapon, silent and ghost-fast. The arrows were barbed with beast marrow—excellent against qi-warped targets.
And of course the Jawbreaker Beast Hammer.
Heavy, unbalanced, and brutal. Forged from the jawbone of a mountain howler.
Ironback Plates x6:
Durable beast-shell fragments—useful for reinforcing armor, shields, or crafting talismans.
Rare Beast Core 1:
Still warm. It pulsed faintly in the field, a rhythmic glow like a heartbeat. Could be used to empower a weapon—or traded for a high-tier artifact.
Fat-Rich Meat 14 lbs
Preserved in spirit-salt wax, good for long-term survival or bait. Not bad as stew either.
Alchemy & Crafting Materials:
Cloudsting Wings x13:
Delicate, glassy insectoid wings from the Cloudsting Wasp. Excellent for agility elixirs and glide potions.
Venom Sacs x2:
Light paralysis venom. Enough to down a mid-tier beast or disarm a skilled martialist for 30 seconds. Coating arrows? Obvious choice.
Beast Claws x5:
From a scaled predator. Still razor-sharp. Good for talisman construction or blade hilt decor.
Charred Hides x2:
Scorched leather from flame-resistant beasts. Could be shaped into light armor or wrapped for heat-resistance.
I exhaled slowly and closed the grid. Everything was still here. Nothing stolen. Nothing spent. I leaned back in the hammock, letting the sway of the Typhoon lull my nerves.
Felicity purred faintly in the corners of my mind like a cat curled behind a curtain. "You're stockpiled like a war sage," she whispered. "But you still smell like soup and salt. Can we hunt something soon?"
I smiled faintly. "I'm sure we will Soon enough."
For now, I had work to do, qi to rebuild, and a legacy storming in his direction.
And out there in the cursed delta...the next clue waited.
The swaying of the Typhoon lulled me into a meditative drift—until the first pulse hit. A strange, boiling sensation flooded my bloodstream.
Not heat exactly—but a slow, curling effervescence, like fermented lightning weaving through my marrow.
My breath hitched.
The Animus field in the room tightened like a noose, and the Rare Beast Core—resting in my pocket bracelet began to glow.
Bright. Unnatural.
A flare of spiraling glyph-light and magnetic pressure rose from the core's surface like steam off a star-forged anvil. It floated, rotating slowly. Tendrils of rune-script coiled into the air, forming sigils too ancient to name.
My skin crawled.
"Felicity," I whispered, my voice dry and hushed.
And then—She was there.
A ripple in the air, like perfume through silk. A silvery afterimage flared across the ceiling, coalescing into shifting shadowlight that curled into the edges of my vision.
Her voice, like fox laughter in a funeral garden, slid into my thoughts; "I was wondering when you'd stop polishing hammers and start listening."
I smirked without warmth, "What do you want?" Felicity chuckled, low and languid. "You. That Core. And a promise."
She drifted closer, a mental illusion of psychic energy, her aura threading into the core's light, my spirit bracelet flickered and warped under the pressure.
I narrowed my eyes. "And what's in it for me?"
Silence.
Then—
Felicity's voice curled into a seductive promise, sharp-edged and sincere:
The rare centipede juggernaut beast crystal popped out of the pocket dimension. "That little heart?" she whispered. "It isn't just rare. It's perfect. Earth based qi builds powerful defensive and support foundations. With your attack bias foundation, we will make a true power couple Slow to corrupt.
"Let me bond with the Juggernaut core, it will enhace my role as your servant and bodyguard. Once the fusion completes, I'll be able to manifest.
Not just whisper in your thoughts—I'll be able to walk beside you. Bleed beside you. We'll unlock co-cultivation.
You'll draw on my technique library—half-forgotten predator arts.
Fog-step striking.
Dream-binding talons.
My claws will burn with your flame, and you'll move like a god on famine winds."
I didn't speak.
Felicity added sweetly:
"Oh—and I want ember flare apples. I saw you had them. I'm starving."
I stared at the rare core, now pulsing with low growls and spinning sigils.
I reached into the bracelet's inventory field, hovering over the apples—bright red, crackling faintly with fire chi.
four dropped into my palm.
"Three weeks," I said flatly. "You get three weeks and four apples to cultivate with."
Felicity purred.
"Fair trade."
Suddenly, my skin split—not with pain, but with bloom. Blood tendrils unfurled from my forearms, writhing like awakened roots, and snatched the rare core mid-air. Another vine lashed out and sucked the ember apples into its spiraling folds. The core screamed—or perhaps it sang. Its spin turned wild, chaotic.
Glyphs burst like solar flares as the tendrils wrapped tight around it, drawing it in. Felicity's laughter echoed faintly as the core collapsed inward like a dying star, then vanished into her animus.
' 'New Bond Forming' '
Fusion Process: 7% – Estimated Completion: 2–3 Weeks Dependent on Cultivation Stability.
Host Overlap Threshold: Secure.
Manifestation Rights: Pending.
I collapsed into the hammock as a rush of foreign heat knifed through my lower spine! My limbs twitched once.
For a moment my eyes flickered silver.
Then the feeling passed—leaving only sweat, pulse, and quiet thunder in my chest. Felicity's voice was softer now. Feral. Satisfied. "Sleep, Ash. When I rise, we rise together. And the world will have new nightmares."
I didn't argue. I simply closed my eyes and let the ship rock me into a dreamless haze.
Felicity began her private cultivation period in my blood stream.