The first beast erupted from the undergrowth—a massive Red Scale Boar. It was a Tier 1 Spirit Beast, nearly as tall as Hanyuan's chest, its body covered in thick, crimson-plated scales. Two yellowed tusks curved cruelly upward from its snout, and its red eyes locked onto the boy with feral hatred. Behind it, the brush snapped again as two more boars emerged, instinctively flanking him.
The lead boar charged. The ground trembled under its weight as it thundered forward, hooves tearing through dirt and roots like a living landslide.
Hanyuan didn't retreat. He shifted one foot back and lowered his center of gravity, his breathing steady despite the roar of the beast. Ten paces. Eight paces.
"Why isn't he moving?" one of the mercenaries shouted, reaching for his crossbow.
Zhang Hu narrowed his eyes, holding up a hand to stop his men. "Watch his stance," he murmured. "Not bad for a noble brat."
When the boar was only five paces away, Hanyuan finally exploded into motion. His spear shot forward in a lightning-quick thrust. The tip grazed the beast where the neck met the shoulder, piercing through the edge of a heavy scale with a sharp crunch and sliding deep into the muscle. The boar screamed in pain but didn't stop; its momentum carried it forward, a mountain of flesh intent on crushing him.
Hanyuan reacted instantly, initiating the White Drift Block. He spun the spear shaft rapidly, manifesting a swirling cloud of cold Qi. The icy barrier absorbed the brunt of the impact, acting like a cushion. Even so, the sheer force drove Hanyuan back. He rolled aside just as the boar's tusk tore through the air where his torso had been a breath earlier.
Before he could find his footing, the second boar—smaller but significantly faster—attacked from his right. Its charge was low and precise. Hanyuan snatched his spear from the dirt, spinning the shaft mid-rise and slamming the iron-shod butt of the spear into the boar's snout.
Crack!
The impact echoed through the clearing. The boar let out a strangled yelp and collapsed, stumbling into the dirt, unconscious from the blunt trauma.
The third boar took advantage of the opening and charged from behind. Hanyuan sensed the movement and twisted his waist, the tusk missing his leg by an inch. He took three rapid steps back to create distance and channeled his Qi into the blackened steel.
"Icy Current Thrust!"
A focused beam of frost-Qi erupted from the spear-tip, penetrating the boar's side and tearing through its stomach. Blood and organs, partially frozen by the technique, spilled onto the grass as the beast crashed to the ground, lifeless.
The first boar, recovered from its initial wound, rushed him again. Hanyuan dropped to one knee, rotating his spear in a low, sweeping arc. The sharpened tip sliced clean across the boar's front leg. The beast collapsed mid-charge, shrieking as it plowed into the dirt and skidded to a halt at his feet.
Before it could struggle back up, Hanyuan stepped forward, gripped the spear with both hands, and drove it straight down.
Thud.
The spearhead punched through the armored skull and buried itself in the earth beneath. The boar's body convulsed once, then went still. Hanyuan didn't stop; he quickly moved to the unconscious second boar and ended its life with a single, clinical strike to the heart.
The clearing went silent, save for the heavy breathing of the young boy and the dying gurgles of the beasts.
Hanyuan stood up, leaning slightly on his spear. He could feel his Dantian—the Icy Current Thrust had once again drained a massive portion of his Qi, and his arms were sore from the impact of the White Drift Block.
"Impressive," Zhang Hu barked, riding his horse closer. He looked at the three carcasses and then at the eleven-year-old in the pristine white robes, now splattered with mud and boar blood. "You didn't panic, and your techniques are solid. Most kids your age would have been a pancake under that first charge."
Aunt Yumei giggled, sheathing her daggers. "Told you he was a sharp one, Captain. Though, little Hanyuan, you should watch your Qi consumption. If there had been a fourth boar, you'd be in trouble."
Hanyuan wiped a streak of blood from his cheek and nodded. "Thank you, Auntie. I'll keep that in mind."
"Skin the boars quickly!" Zhang Hu ordered the servants. "Spirit meat is good coin, and we don't want the smell of blood attracting anything larger. Hanyuan, get back to your carriage and recover your Qi. The outskirts are the easy part; we've still got a long way to go."
The servants moved like a well-oiled formation, hands swift and merciless. Crimson scales were peeled from flesh with expert precision, each prized fragment stacked neatly beside the road. Spirit meat was cleaved, portioned, and sealed into salt-lined crates before the lingering scent of blood could draw further calamity. In less than fifteen breaths of an incense stick, the caravan was in motion once more, wheels creaking as if nothing extraordinary had occurred.
Hanyuan settled into his saddle, his slim frame steady despite the long march. His hands rested atop his thighs, fingers relaxed. He half-closed his eyes and allowed the rhythmic rise and fall of the pony beneath him to guide his breathing, slipping into a shallow meditative trance.
Within his body, his Dantian felt like a dry riverbed.
Such was the cruel truth of the early Qi Refining realm. One could unleash techniques as fierce as crashing tides, yet the Qi they drew from was no more than a shallow pond. Earlier, if those Red Scale Boars had been at the peak of Tier 1—or Heaven forbid, if a Red Scale Boar King had emerged—he would be doomed.
A soft, amused voice broke through his thoughts.
"A penny for those serious thoughts, little Hanyuan?"
Shen Yumei guided her horse to his side, her movements light and unhurried. Though her daggers were sheathed, her posture remained coiled like a predator ready to spring. A teasing smile played upon her lips, but her sharp eyes studied him closely.
"I must say," she continued, "your combat senses are quite sharpened. You didn't just swing that spear—you predicted their weight. Have you fought beasts before today?"
Hanyuan nodded, conserving both breath and Qi. "I trained in the woods with a Elder. I've faced Grey Wolves… and once, a Brown Bear. But this was my first true Spirit Beast."
For the briefest instant, Yumei's playful smirk cracked.
A Brown Bear? At that age?
Her gaze flickered with something akin to awe. The great clans truly are monstrous, she thought. They throw their whelps into the jaws of beasts just to see whether they can bite back.
Before she could speak again, a shout rang out from ahead.
"Brother Hu is calling for a double-flank formation! Yumei, rear position!"
"Duty calls," Yumei giggled, flashing Hanyuan a wink as she tugged her reins. "Don't exhaust yourself just yet—we haven't even entered the deep fog."
With that, she wheeled her horse around and vanished into the shifting ranks.
The caravan pressed onward, and the forest answered in kind.
The canopy thickened until the afternoon sun was reduced to thin, sickly-green needles of light piercing the gloom. Shadows layered upon shadows, and the air grew damp and cold. At the front rode Zhang Hu, his massive frame unyielding, the great saber on his back humming faintly as if sensing danger.
"Stay close!" Zhang Hu roared. "This stretch belongs to Ghost-Claw Macaques and Iron-Tusk Gazelles. Inner outskirts—high Tier 1 territory."
A mercenary near the middle wiped sweat from his brow, leather armor creaking. "I'd take a bar fight over a macaque ambush any day."
"Better the forest you know than the bandits you don't," the Merchant Leader muttered, fingers trembling as he stroked his graying beard. "The Main Road is suicide right now. The Blood-Iron Bandits are growing bold. If we went that way, we wouldn't just lose goods—we'd lose our heads."
"I heard the city's finally moving," another mercenary added. "Bai Clan and Ma Clan are forming a joint subjugation force. Two Mortal Core Elders are being dispatched."
Hanyuan's attention sharpened at once.
Mortal Core Elders…
That meant the bandits either harbored a Qi Refining peak expert—or worse, a rogue Mortal Core cultivator. The forest was deadly, yes, but the schemes of men were far more treacherous.
"If the Bai and Ma Clans are acting, the road will be clear within a month," Zhang Hu said, eyes fixed forward. "But that does nothing for us today. Spears up. The air's turning."