Yu Zhou sat by a small, smokeless fire, nursing a jagged gash on his forearm. It was a grim reminder of his last battle with a sixth-rank spirit beast—a clash that had nearly sent him to the yellow spring.
Beside him lay his "spoils of war": a bow and a sword stripped from the cooling corpses of Lu Chen and the silver-robed expert.
The Sunder-Wind Bow was a masterpiece of silver, its frame carved into the likeness of a soaring dragon. It was a weapon built for a body cultivator's raw power. As Yu Zhou stroked the frame, the string hummed—Hummm!—vibrating with a faint, ghostly light. He cradled it like a hard-won prize.
Beside it lay the Deep-Crest Sword. Even at rest, the blade was so unnaturally sharp it seemed to part the very air around it, leaving a faint scent of ozone in the wake of its edge. Yu Zhou couldn't help but laugh, remembering the shocked expression on the old monster who had wielded it.
These were superior spirit-grade armaments, far beyond the ordinary "spirit-grade crap" sold in city markets. They were weapons far too powerful for a Third Grade Qi Condensation cultivator like him to handle safely.
He turned his gaze toward his soul sanctuary. Inside, the spirit animal whose cravings had nearly killed him stirred. Despite everything, Yu Zhou reached out to command it. The creature hissed, its eyes flashing with wild, untamed arrogance. Having tasted a drop of dragon blood, it no longer saw itself as a mere "lizard" to be ordered around. It carried itself like a god, its golden eyes flicking with disdain; Yu Zhou knew he would have to win its submission before it would ever truly obey.
"Useless," Yu Zhou spat, his voice as dry and raspy as grinding stones. "You drink my Qi and give me nothing but mockery, adding a curse to my very existence."
He couldn't rely on the beast. He couldn't even rely on his own Qi. His energy contained Pure Yang, a searing heat that threatened to melt his internal organs if he channeled it too aggressively. To survive, he had to rely on sheer, physical strength. In this state, he was no different from a common body refiner.
"I'm quite laughable, aren't I?" he cracked a bitter smile. Despite achieving the third grade, he felt like empty trash—blessed with a Qi that caused him nothing but agony.
For two days, he had tracked a Blade-Horned Deer. In the past, he would have needed elaborate traps and hours of sweat to bring it down. Now, he raised his bow, nocking an arrow aimed at the beast's weak point: the hind legs, where the Qi flow was thinnest.
As he released the string, the bow's internal array flared with a blinding light, amplifying the shot.
BANG!
The arrow missed the deer's heart by a foot. Instead, it struck a distant ridge, the explosive power shattering a section of the mountain. The recoil hit Yu Zhou like a charging bull, nearly dislocating his shoulder and sending him tumbling into the dirt.
"Too much power, no control," he muttered, sighing deeply. "Heaven truly isn't fair."
He picked himself up, dusting off the grime. He realized these weapons were as dangerous to him as the beasts themselves. Even with a heaven-defying weapon in hand, the price of use was steep. But for now, he still had a deer to catch.
He knew this wasn't a common animal; it was a first-rank spirit beast.
Swoosh!!! Realizing the danger, the deer bolted, moving like a streak of silver wind. Even though weakened, Yu Zhou was at the third grade of Qi Condensation. He led his target, calculating a three-meter lead, and shot at the perfect moment just as the deer leapt over a fallen tree.
Tang!
The deer hit the ground with a heavy tremor. Yu Zhou emerged from his hiding spot to harvest the core. Although he couldn't absorb the core without his Qi, it would fetch a high price at the market.
He quickly stored the meat and the core into his space ring.
As night fell, Yu Zhou marked his next prey: a Thorn-Black Bear, a second-rank spirit beast. He tracked down a hive of wild honey, knowing the beast's weakness. He laid his trap perfectly, waiting for the bear to become engrossed in the golden nectar. He stretched the bowstring to its limit, the wood groaning under the tension.
"Better not knock me back this time," he whispered, channeling the smallest flicker of Qi he could manage while enduring the searing, white-hot pain of the Pure Yang.
The bear arrived as planned, facing away from him as it gorged on honey. Yu Zhou locked onto his target.
"How I wish my Qi was fully active without me burning alive," he thought.
But the bear was more cunning than he realized. Even without speech, spirit beasts possessed a cruel intelligence.
Suddenly, the bear vanished from his sight. The disruption of his thoughts caused a lapse in focus. Before he could react, a massive claw swiped through the air, shattering the tree he was perched in. Yu Zhou fell hard, the wind knocked out of him.
The Thorn-Black Bear lunged at the panicking human who had dared to hunt it.
In a blur of motion, Yu Zhou pulled out the Deep-Crest Sword. He didn't attempt a "Sword Technique"—he had never been taught one, and even if he had, he lacked the Qi to fuel it. He simply swung the blade with the raw, panicked strength of a cornered animal.
The sword didn't just cut; it flowed. The blade was so light it felt like a natural extension of his arm. When it struck the bear's hide, it bypassed the thick, matted fur as if it were water. The beast fell, sliced through like a piece of tofu, but the effort left Yu Zhou gasping for air.
He realized the sword required a constant drain of Qi condensation to maintain that impossible sharpness.
He harvested the core, storing the hide and tough skin in the space ring he had looted.
He quickly checked his status: [Realm: Third Grade Qi Condensation] [Essence: 7%]
His essence was dangerously low, but his physical frame remained as strong as a Qi Condenser's should be.
By the end of the week, Yu Zhou had transformed. He was no longer just a "cultivator"; he was a warrior who had tasted blood.
He used the bow for distance, learning to "pulse" tiny sparks of Pure Yang into the string to guide his arrows without rupturing his organs. He kept the sword for the "messy work," using it sparingly to conserve his essence.
His Drake remained a stubborn, heavy weight in his soul. It refused to help him hunt or enhance his strength, doing nothing more than healing his bruises and internal burns.
Yu Zhou stopped caring. He hardly recognized himself anymore. He wasn't the cultivator from the storybooks—he was a martial warrior.
He had bigger things to worry about.
He had the Zhang First Elder to kill—that scum who had sparked the clan dispute and cost him his friend, Zhang Wu. Or rather, his enemy. He chuckled softly at the thought.
And then there was the expert. The one who had cut his chains and saved him from the pit of the yellow spring, only to vanish like smoke.
Why help a guy like me? Why save someone who's already broken?
Yu Zhou stood alone under the moonlight, lost in thought.
Grr!!! A loud growl interrupted him.
He rubbed his stomach, realizing he hadn't eaten in five days.
"What kind of expert starves to death?" he joked to himself, searching his space ring for the bear meat. He imagined a delicacy of thick, roasted steaks. His stomach growled again at the thought.
But as he prepared to cook, a problem occurred.
He realized he couldn't start a fire to roast the meat, and the Drake—the only thing capable of producing a flame—was as stubborn as ever.
"Please, Drake... you wouldn't want me to starve to death. It's better to die by the sword than by hunger; it's humiliating. Please?"
The stubborn spirit simply shook its head, looking away.
"I promise... I'll take care of you. I'll find you treasure."
The Drake's eyes (^^) suddenly lit up at the mention of the word "treasure."
It finally gave a slow, arrogant nod.
It would help.