Chen Yu stopped walking when he found a decent place to rest for the night. The clearing wasn't large, maybe twenty feet across, but a stream ran along one edge and several massive boulders sat clustered on the opposite side like ancient sentinels. The rocks would block some of the wind that picked up after dark in these parts.
He dropped his pack and started gathering wood for a fire. Dry branches littered the ground beneath the trees, easy pickings, and within fifteen minutes he had a small blaze crackling in the center of the clearing. The warmth felt good after hours of walking through the forest.
Now came the hard part.
Chen Yu pulled out one of the boar meat chunks he'd wrapped in leaves and stared at it with growing apprehension. He'd never actually cooked anything in his previous life beyond microwaving instant ramen. And the original Chen Yu's memories were useless here, the boy had always bought his meals from street vendors or eaten in cheap inns when he could afford it.
"Can't be that difficult," he said to nobody in particular. He found a relatively straight stick, jabbed it through the meat, and held it over the flames. "Fire plus food equals cooked food. Basic math."
He waited. The meat sizzled. The smell was actually pretty good.
After what felt like enough time, Chen Yu pulled the skewer back and examined his work. The outside looked perfect, nicely browned and crispy.
He bit into it and immediately regretted everything. The exterior crunched between his teeth like charcoal while the interior was still raw and cold, somehow both overcooked and undercooked simultaneously.
"Okay. That was user error."
Second attempt went better. He held the meat higher above the flames this time, letting it cook slower and more evenly. When he finally tried it, the texture was at least consistent throughout, but the taste made him grimace. Bland didn't even begin to describe it, and the meat had a weird rubbery quality that suggested he'd done something fundamentally wrong.
"Salt would help. Probably."
Chen Yu looked around the clearing as if seasonings might materialize out of thin air. They didn't. Obviously.
For his third try, he remembered something from a survival documentary he'd watched years ago. You could wrap food in wet leaves and bury it in hot coals to steam it. That seemed promising.
It was not promising. The leaves ignited the moment they touched the coals, and Chen Yu had to scramble to dig out the meat before it became an actual lump of charcoal.
"I'm a cultivator who can bend time itself," Chen Yu muttered, glaring at his remaining meat. "But apparently cooking is beyond me."
He tried once more, this time with exaggerated patience. Lower heat. Slower cooking. Constant rotation to ensure even browning. When he finally ate it, the result was passable. Not good, not even close to good, but at least it was edible without making him want to spit it out.
Chen Yu chewed his disappointing dinner and looked up at the night sky. Stars were starting to appear between the tree branches, countless points of light scattered across the darkness. The fire popped and crackled beside him. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted. Closer by, leaves rustled as small animals moved through the underbrush.
It was peaceful.
Back on Earth, he'd spent his days trapped in a cubicle under harsh fluorescent lighting, surrounded by the constant hum of computers and air conditioning. He'd forgotten what silence actually sounded like, what real air tasted like, what it felt like to be surrounded by living things instead of concrete and steel.
Even the terrible cooking couldn't ruin this moment.
"I need to learn how to actually cook," Chen Yu said to the darkness. "What's even the point of being able to hunt if I'm just going to destroy everything I catch?"
Tomorrow he'd buy salt and pepper from a merchant. Maybe ask around for cooking advice. Cultivators had to eat too, after all, and he refused to spend the rest of his life choking down flavorless meat.
After finishing his meal, Chen Yu kicked dirt over the fire until only embers remained. He settled down with his back against one of the large boulders and closed his eyes, not to sleep properly but to enter a light meditative trance. His senses remained alert even as his body rested.
In the mindscape, his clone continued cultivating without pause.
Dawn came slowly, golden light filtering through the canopy one ray at a time. Chen Yu opened his eyes and stood, feeling remarkably refreshed. His body needed less sleep now than it used to, and what sleep he did need seemed to restore him more completely.
He shouldered his pack, checked that his sword moved smoothly in its sheath, and headed deeper into the forest.
Yesterday had been about testing his basic capabilities. Today he wanted to push himself.
The tracks appeared around midday, pressed deep into soft earth near a game trail. Chen Yu crouched to examine them. Massive paws, each print nearly as wide as his palm. Deep claw marks scarred the bark of nearby trees at roughly shoulder height. The air carried a sharp, musky scent that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Tiger.
His heart started beating faster. This was genuinely dangerous, tigers were apex predators with speed, strength, and intelligence that made them deadly even to experienced hunters. He could easily die here if he made a mistake.
But that was exactly what he needed. The boar had taught him basics, now he needed to learn what happened when he faced something that could actually kill him.
He followed the trail for the better part of an hour, moving carefully and staying downwind. The tracks led through increasingly thick undergrowth, and his senses stayed on high alert the entire time. The hunter could become the hunted at any moment out here.
The attack came without warning.
Orange and black exploded from the bushes to his left. Chen Yu's enhanced reflexes saved his life, he threw himself backward as massive claws raked through the space his head had occupied a split-second before.
The tiger landed where Chen Yu had been standing, already pivoting for another strike. It was enormous, over six feet long not counting its tail, muscles rippling under striped fur. Yellow eyes fixed on him with predatory focus that promised violence.
Chen Yu's sword was in his hand before he consciously decided to draw it. The tiger circled. He circled opposite. Neither took their eyes off the other.
Then the tiger pounced.
Chen Yu sidestepped, but not fast enough. One claw caught his armor, tearing through the leather and scoring his ribs. Pain flared, but he ignored it, bringing his sword around in a counter-slash.
The blade caught the tiger's shoulder, a glancing blow that drew blood but didn't slow it down. The beast twisted mid-air with impossible flexibility and landed facing him, already preparing another attack.
They clashed again and again. The tiger was faster than the boar, stronger, smarter. It adapted to Chen Yu's movements, learning his patterns. When he dodged left twice, it anticipated the third time and nearly caught him.
Chen Yu's mind raced. He couldn't just react anymore, he needed to think ahead, to predict and counter-predict. This was real combat, life-or-death, against an opponent that was his equal or possibly even superior in pure physical ability.
His cultivation gave him enhanced strength and speed, but the tiger had a lifetime of hunting experience.
Chen Yu started mixing feints with his real attacks. He'd begin a slash to the right, then reverse at the last second to strike left. He'd back up as if retreating, then suddenly lunge forward. Gradually, he began landing more hits while taking fewer.
Blood soaked into both their bodies, his from claw wounds and the tiger's from sword cuts. The fight dragged on, both combatants tiring, both refusing to yield.
Finally, Chen Yu saw his opening. The tiger lunged forward with its right paw, committing fully to the strike. Instead of dodging backward as he had before, Chen Yu stepped forward and to the left, inside the arc of the attack. His sword came up in a rising slash that caught the tiger under its jaw and drove up into its skull.
The beast's momentum carried it past him and it collapsed, dead before it hit the ground.
Chen Yu stood there, gasping, his sword still extended. Blood dripped from the blade, some of it the tiger's and some his own. His ribs burned where he'd been clawed, and he could feel dozens of smaller cuts and bruises covering his body.
But he was alive. And he'd won.
"That was harder than I expected," Chen Yu managed between breaths. He'd been exhausted by the boar fight, but this was on another level. His muscles trembled with fatigue, and his mind felt sluggish from the sustained concentration.
He needed to rest, to treat his wounds, to—
A low growl froze him in place.
Chen Yu's head snapped toward the sound. Another tiger emerged from the undergrowth, this one even larger than the first, but something was different about it.
Its eyes glowed with a faint golden light. Spiritual energy rippled through its fur like visible waves. And on its forehead, barely visible under the striped pattern, was a small horn-like protrusion.
Chen Yu's blood ran cold as realization hit him.
This wasn't a normal beast.
This was a spirit beast.