The light of dusk had faded into the color of dying embers. The forest was still. The fog that once gently swayed among the trees now felt dense, suffocating — as if the world itself held its breath.
Li Shen wiped his blade clean one last time, feeling the ache of a long day's hunt settle into his limbs. He had planned to return to the sect before nightfall. The Iron Fang Rabbits had provided both profit and experience, and his heart, for the first time, carried the pride of accomplishment.
But pride is often the prelude to peril.
Shing!
A metallic screech tore through the silence. Li Shen's instincts screamed — he twisted just in time, blade raised. Sparks flew. The force of impact flung him backward, tumbling through leaves and dirt until he hit a tree trunk. His chest burned, breath ragged.
"What—was—that…?"
His vision steadied. Then he saw it — coiled amid the mist like a living shadow, the beast's scales glimmered dark jade under the moonlight, its eyes two molten suns watching him with ancient calm.
A snake, but not an ordinary one. Its body thick as a barrel, scales patterned with faint spiritual lines that shimmered faintly when it moved. Most terrifying of all were the two crimson stripes carved across its forehead.
Li Shen froze. "Two stripes…" he whispered.
The meaning struck him immediately — a Meridian Opening Realm beast, early stage.
His breath caught. He was merely a Body Tempering cultivator, one realm below. According to the sect's bestiaries, such creatures possessed ten times the strength of a mortal man. Even an ordinary Meridian Opening human cultivator was said to hold sevenfold strength.
Against such an enemy, his odds were bleak.
His first thought was to flee — and that was human nature.
His second, to fight — and that was the cultivator's will.
The snake's tongue flickered. It began to move, gliding silently across the earth. Each motion was fluid, deliberate — predatory.
"Calm down," Li Shen whispered to himself. "Analyze. Watch its rhythm."
In his past life, he had spent countless nights in front of glowing screens, playing strategy games and fighting simulations. He'd learned one unshakable truth: every opponent has a pattern. Even predators of instinct act upon rhythm.
He focused.
The serpent struck.
A streak of motion — fast, almost invisible. Its jaws opened wide, fangs gleaming like white daggers.
The First Cut – Verdant Dawn!
Li Shen's sword rose in perfect vertical balance. He met the beast head-on, steel against scale. A sharp clang echoed. The recoil numbed his arm, yet his form remained true. The snake's head was forced sideways, gouging a mark into a nearby tree.
But the moment it missed, it coiled again, tail whipping toward him.
Flowing Stream!
Li Shen shifted to the side, blade slicing diagonally in a glimmering arc. His breath followed the cut, qi moving in sync with the rhythm of his movement. The tail's blow grazed his ribs, tearing cloth but missing flesh.
Pain and wind pressed against him, but his eyes were steady.
He watched. He listened.
Each strike of the serpent carried a delay — half a heartbeat — between its tail and its jaw. It attacked in sequence, not simultaneously. A pattern born from instinct.
"That's it…" Li Shen muttered. "Predict the rhythm. Control the flow."
He adjusted his stance. The forest trembled again as the serpent lunged.
This time, he did not retreat.
The Third Cut – Whispering Leaf!
The motion was deceptive — a strike disguised as a defense. The blade traced a delicate path, turning aside the serpent's snapping fangs with the gentleness of a falling leaf.
The tip of the sword slipped beneath its scales, leaving a shallow line of blood. The serpent hissed, fury kindled in its golden eyes.
Li Shen's heart pounded. "It's bleeding…"
It was proof — he could harm it.
But victory, he knew, was not simply about damage. It was about control.
The serpent's body twisted again, this time faster, a blur of muscle and malice.
Li Shen barely rolled aside, its tail slamming into the earth where he had stood. The ground split. Pebbles flew.
He rose, blood seeping from his arm where the scales had grazed him. His breath came ragged, the world spinning slightly — but in his mind, something was changing.
This was no longer fear. It was focus.
He began to move again, his sword an extension of his breath, his will, his spirit.
The Fourth Cut – Shifting Wind!
When the serpent lunged once more, he parried low, then turned his momentum into a rising slash that tore across its lower jaw.
The serpent screeched, a hiss that made the air quake. It recoiled, body lashing in pain.
"Now!"
Li Shen gathered his qi, his Verdant Breathing Art flaring as green light faintly wrapped his blade. His energy flowed like sap rising through a tree — steady, vibrant, alive.
He stepped forward, uniting all forms into one motion — Verdant Blade Form, Complete Flow.
The world seemed to slow.
Every breath, every twitch of the serpent's muscles, every flicker of mist became clear to him.
He struck.
A clean, decisive line — neither hurried nor forceful, but inevitable.
The serpent's head fell with a heavy thud.
For a long moment, the forest was silent.
Then Li Shen exhaled. The tension in his body released all at once, and he collapsed to one knee, panting, sweat and blood mingling on his robe.
He looked at the fallen beast — majestic even in death.
So this was the power of a Meridian Opening creature. If not for his mastery of the Verdant Blade Form… if not for his analysis of its rhythm… he would have died before even realizing what struck him.
He sheathed his sword slowly, reverently.
"Fear," he whispered, "is the greatest teacher."
He had learned something profound that could not be granted by any system or manual.
The Verdant Blade Form was no longer just technique. It was instinct, wisdom, and courage molded together — the fruit of experience and survival.
A cultivator's path was not to chase power blindly, but to temper the heart that wielded it.
He reached forward, retrieving the serpent's beast core — larger than the rabbit's, glowing faintly gold. The energy within it pulsed like a sleeping star and he placed it into his pouch.
Li Shen smiled faintly, exhaustion tugging at his eyelids.