A few more days passed, most of them quiet. I kept to myself. Wei Lin tried to make small talk now and then, but I wasn't in the mood. Too much on my mind.
Back on Earth, I'd seen things like what happened at the gate. Hunters abusing their power, throwing their weight around because they could. I hated it then. I still hated it now.
The only difference? Maybe—just maybe—I had a chance to actually do something about it here.
I'd been asking questions when I could, piecing together whatever scraps of knowledge Wei Lin was willing—or able—to share. Apparently, people here cultivated something called Qi. It sounded a bit like awakening back home. You needed the right conditions, some kind of talent, maybe even a spark of luck.
But the power gap seemed way bigger.
Here, cultivators weren't just strong. They were on another level entirely. The difference between mortals and them was like comparing a non awakened to a S rank Hunter.
That divide did come with one upside. Cultivators mostly kept to themselves. They lived in a separate world they called Murim. A society within a society. You might see one now and then, usually an outer sect disciple acting as the go-between, but otherwise they stayed out of reach.
I'd also asked Wei Lin about the system. He'd never heard of anything like it. No screens, no stats, no titles. Just cultivation, hard work, and prayer if things went badly. The more I listened, the more it became clear—I was the outlier. Whatever I had wasn't normal.
Another thing to file away. And something I'd need to keep a very close eye on.
It was time to explore the system, figure out how to cultivate, and maybe, just maybe, find a way home. As much as I'd appreciated the break the farm offered, I couldn't stay here forever. The next step was clear: I needed more of that golden energy. And that meant heading back into the forest.
So I sat on my bed, Wei Lin and his mother in the opposite room. I still had yet to lay eyes on her but judging by the sounds coming from in there, she wasn't in a good way.
I nodded my head as though to reaffirm my decision to myself. I'd go to the forest in the morning.
The forest looked different now.
Maybe it was the light, or the way the wind moved through the branches, or maybe it was just me. Last time I came through here, I'd been lost and I was man enough to admit, a little scared. But now I had something to aim for. Not a full plan. Just a direction.
I needed more of that golden energy. The Qi.
And unless it grew in town between bags of rice, the forest was my only option.
I left just after dawn with a short-handled billhook strapped to my belt—something Wei Lin used for cutting firewood. The curved blade was chipped and dull in places, but it was better than nothing. I told him I was going out to collect kindling. He didn't ask questions. Just warned me not to stray past the ridge.
"Wind moves funny over there," he said. Then he handed me a rice ball wrapped in cloth like I was going on a day trip.
I stuck to the same path as before. The narrow one that wound between mossy tree trunks and half-flooded roots. I moved slow, eyes scanning the undergrowth, trying not to make too much noise.
The thing was, I had no idea what I was actually looking for. Last time, I had rushed through chasing after the screams.
So I followed the memory. Not the trail. Just the feeling.
The forest was quieter than usual. No squirrel chatter, no rustling in the brush. Just the steady creak of the trees and the distant chirp of birds too high to worry about what was happening below.
About twenty minutes in, I found the first clue. Deep claw marks on a tree trunk. Too clean to be from anything small, too high for a boar. I paused, brushing my hand over the grooves. They were deep and screamed of danger.
I should've turned back.
I didn't.
The undergrowth grew thicker the deeper I went. Eventually, I found myself at the edge of a shallow ravine, the slope gentle but slick from the morning frost. That's when I felt it—something in the air, like the pressure before a storm. Not visible, not even clear, but there.
I crouched low, easing my way down the incline. The scent hit first—musk, damp leaves, blood that had dried days ago.
Then I saw it.
Same kind of creature. Feline shape, lean muscle under sleek black fur. Eyes like polished stone. But this one was bigger than the last, and it didn't look hungry.
It looked territorial.
It was crouched beside a half-picked carcass, the remains of some smaller beast half-hidden under its paws. Its tail flicked lazily. Its ears twitched.
I didn't move.
The billhook sat cold and solid in my hand. Useless, probably, if this turned into a real fight. But it gave me something to hold onto. Something to pretend I could control.
The beast sniffed once, then raised its head.
Our eyes met.
And that was it.
The muscles under its fur tensed. Its shoulders shifted, low and slow.
I rose just enough to shift my stance, weight centered, blade angled low.
The beast moved first.
It didn't charge right away—not like I expected. It took two slow steps forward, muscles coiled tight under dark fur, and watched me with unblinking eyes. It was sizing me up. Measuring. I held the billhook steady, the wooden grip rough and worn under my fingers. My breath was shallow. Controlled. I didn't want to give it anything. I dropped down into the ravine. Letting it know my intentions.
Then it moved.
A blur of motion—silent and clean. No roar, no warning. Just raw speed.
I swung instinctively, angling the blade low. It clipped the beast's flank, tore through fur and skin, but barely slowed it. Claws raked across my arm as it passed, a flash of white-hot pain streaking through the muscle. I bit down hard and stumbled back, trying to reset.
The beast circled, low to the ground, tail twitching.
I switched the billhook to my good arm and tightened my grip. My blood was already dripping from the torn sleeve, painting the handle red. I didn't look at it. I couldn't afford to. It looked at me with a knowing glint. It had won the first exchange.
It darted forward again, quick like a whipcrack. This time I was ready. I ducked and pivoted, dragging the blade across its shoulder as it passed. Deeper than the last cut. It snarled, more reflex than pain, and spun to face me, eyes narrowed.
The distance between us shrank fast. I backed up until I felt uneven terrain beneath my boots—roots, rocks, anything I could use. My leg hit a slope, and I half-turned, letting it guide me higher while keeping the beast in sight.
I needed every advantage.
It circled again, slower this time. The two of us breathing in sync—harsh, shallow, careful. My body was running on adrenaline now. The weight of the billhook no longer mattered. Even the pain started to fade, pulled under by the pressure in my chest.
It leapt.
I reacted without thinking.
Steel met bone. As I matched its jump.
The blade sank into its chest, but the angle was off. It wasn't a killing blow. The weight of its body knocked me clean off my feet, and we hit the ground hard. My back slammed into dirt and stone, and the air ripped out of my lungs. My grip faltered. The billhook skittered from my hand.
It was on me.
Claws tore into my ribs, and teeth snapped inches from my face. I threw up my forearm, barely keeping its jaws back. My skin screamed in pain, blood warm and fast down my side and onto my face. Its breath was hot, rancid. I could feel the strength behind every muscle.
I reached for the blade with my free hand.
Too far.
It clawed again, and I cried out as my side lit up in white agony. My vision blurred. My fingers closed on empty air.
Then I heard it.
A sound—not in the forest, but in my mind.
Skill Activated: Last Stand
Conditions met. Emergency override engaged. Boosting physical output. Suppressing pain response.
Heat surged through me.
Not warmth—heat. Like someone had dumped fire into my veins. My vision sharpened. My limbs stopped shaking. Pain dulled to background noise. My thoughts locked in.
I grabbed the beast by the throat.
It thrashed, snarling, clawing, but I didn't let go. I pulled with everything I had and rolled, reversing our positions. My knee drove into its stomach as I pinned it down. It jerked its head, trying to bite, but I slammed my fist into its eye. Once. Twice. Its skull cracked against the rock.
I spotted the billhook.
A meter to my left.
I shifted, still holding it down, and dragged myself toward it. My fingers closed on the hilt.
The beast twisted, kicked, and I felt claws slice down my thigh—but it was distant. Muted.
I roared and drove the blade into its chest.
It screamed. A horrible, shrill cry that rattled in my skull.
But it wasn't dead yet.
I pulled the blade free and stabbed again. This time through the side of its neck. Blood exploded outward, coating my arms, soaking the dirt. Its body convulsed once. Then again.
Then it stilled.
I stayed there, breathing hard, my hands locked around the handle.
The body twitched once, a dying reflex.
Then it was over.
I dropped the blade.
The strength left me all at once.
Pain surged back in. No longer dulled—now it was sharp, overwhelming. My ribs burned. My leg throbbed with every heartbeat. I pressed my hand to my side and felt blood pulsing through my fingers.
Everything around me tilted.
The trees spun.
I fell back and stared at the sky through the canopy. The wind pushed through the leaves above, making them whisper. I couldn't hear what they were saying.
I didn't move. Couldn't.
Then I saw it.
The golden shimmer. Just like last time.
It floated above the beast's corpse, drifting like ash in reverse. It hovered, as if waiting for permission. Then it moved—drawn toward me.
I didn't resist.
The energy sank into me like warm rain, soaking through skin and bone. It wasn't violent. It didn't burn. It was… right. Like something my body had always been missing.
Then the system spoke.
Qi absorbed.
System sync in progress…
Stat Increased
Spirit: 11 → 13
Progress: Mortal 1/10 → 2/10
The screen hovered there for a moment before fading.
I stayed on the ground, breathing through gritted teeth.
The blood hadn't stopped.
My entire body hurt. My arms shook. I wasn't sure I could even stand. But the fight was over. And I'd won.
Somehow.
Not because I was strong. Not because I knew what I was doing.
I survived.
Because something inside me refused not to.