Lei Man returned to the Lei family estate under the cloak of twilight, the new spatial ring a cool, comforting weight on his finger. He felt like a different person from the boy who had fled into the Azure Hills just a few days ago. Stronger, richer, and possessed of a quiet confidence that resonated in his very bones.
He was crossing the main training courtyard when a familiar, arrogant voice cut through the evening air.
"There you are, trash."
Lei Jiao stood by the courtyard's central sparring stage, flanked by two of his followers. He had clearly been waiting, his arms crossed, a familiar sneer on his handsome face.
"I heard some ridiculous rumors," Lei Jiao said, sauntering forward. "Something about you dragging a snake around. Did you finally learn to scavenge, cousin? Don't think a lucky find changes anything."
Lei Man stopped, his expression calm. The inherited fear that this confrontation would have once elicited was completely absent. "Our business is concluded, Jiao. I have nothing to say to you."
He made to walk past. Lei Jiao, incensed by this blatant disrespect, moved to block him.
"You'll speak when I tell you to," he snarled. "It's time I reminded you of your place."
Without another word, Lei Jiao struck. His fist was a blur, aimed in a casual, open-handed slap meant to humiliate. He was a cultivator at the peak of the fifth level of Body Strengthening, the family's prized genius. This was pest control.
What happened next shattered his perception of reality.
Lei Man took a single, effortless step to the side. It wasn't a dodge; it was a weightless, silent drift. Lei Jiao's hand sliced through empty air, sending him stumbling forward. He spun around, his face a mask of disbelief.
The true shock, however, was not the dodge. It was the Qi. The moment Lei Man moved, his energy flared, and Lei Jiao felt it like a physical blow. It was deep, solid, and immensely powerful. It was leagues beyond the pathetic spark he had sensed just a few days ago. It was stronger than his own.
"You..." Lei Jiao's sneer faltered, replaced by confusion. "You're at the sixth level?" The words sounded absurd even as he said them. Days ago, he was nothing.
"You're too slow," Lei Man said, his voice flat.
The insult, combined with the impossible reality of his cousin's power, lit a fire of panic and rage in Lei Jiao's chest. "Impossible!" he roared, attacking in earnest. His fists became a blur, a storm of strikes designed to overwhelm and pummel an opponent into submission.
Lei Man didn't retreat. He moved forward, into the storm, his body a phantom leaf in the wind. He didn't block a single punch. A slight tilt of his shoulder, a subtle pivot of his hips. Each of Lei Jiao's furious strikes missed by a hair's breadth.
It was the impossible ease of it all that broke Lei Jiao's spirit. The "trash" wasn't just stronger; he was toying with him. Finally, in a pause between attacks, Lei Man's hand shot out. It wasn't a strike, just an open-palmed push against his cousin's chest.
The push was gentle, but it carried the undeniable weight of the sixth level. Lei Jiao was launched backwards as if struck by a battering ram, crashing into his stunned followers and collapsing in an undignified heap.
He lay there, panting, his mind reeling. He looked up at Lei Man, who stood in the center of the courtyard, his expression not of triumph, but of utter indifference. The power was one thing, but the timeline... it defied all logic, all laws of cultivation. It was a monstrous, terrifying violation of nature.
The sneer was gone, the arrogance stripped away, replaced by a raw, primal fear. This was not just a stranger; this was an abomination.
"What... are you?!" Lei Jiao stammered, his voice cracking with genuine, terrified bewilderment. He scrambled backwards on his hands, pushing himself away. "That strength... you were nothing! A cripple! A few days ago, you were NOTHING! And now... the sixth level?! That speed! IMPOSSIBLE! NO ONE can cultivate that fast!"
He wasn't just afraid of his cousin's power. He was terrified of what that power represented. It was an unnatural blight, a speed of advancement so monstrous it could only be the work of a demon.
Lei Man looked down at his trembling cousin, the scene a perfect echo of their first confrontation, but with the roles completely, irrevocably reversed. He gave no answer. He simply turned and continued his walk back to his own courtyard, leaving the family's prized genius gibbering in the dust, his mind shattered not by a fist, but by the terrifying, impossible truth of his cousin's progress.
The Mercenary Pavilion was a chaotic, self-contained world that paid no mind to the individuals within it. When Lei Man pushed open the heavy wooden doors, the roar of conversation, the clatter of mugs, and the smell of stale ale and sweat washed over him. He might as well have been a gust of wind for all the attention he received. A burly, axe-wielding woman shouldered past him without a second glance, her focus entirely on the gambling table in the corner.
He was just another body in the crowd, the story of his serpent kill already a piece of forgotten tavern gossip, if it was ever mentioned at all. He made his way to the counter, waiting his turn behind a pair of mercenaries arguing with the one-eyed clerk over the price of goblin ears.
When he finally reached the front, the clerk looked at him with a blank, impatient expression. There was no recognition in his eye. Lei Man was just the next transaction.
"What do you want?" the clerk grunted, his voice gravelly.
"A new task," Lei Man said. "Something challenging."
The clerk gestured vaguely with his head towards the massive bounty board. "Board's over there. Pick one. Bring it back. Don't waste my time."
Lei Man spent ten minutes navigating the chaotic sea of notices. He ignored the simple F-Rank delivery quests and beast-culling jobs. His eyes were drawn to a notice written on a strip of pale blue parchment, pinned in the G-Rank section, but with a payout that seemed unusually high.
BEAST HUNT: Frostwind Peaks. Nest of a Sixth-Level Snow Falcon. G-Rank threat. Beast core and talons required. Bonus for intact eggs. HIGH PRIORITY.
He pulled it from the board and brought it back to the indifferent clerk. The man glanced at it, his expression unchanging.
"Snow Falcon," he stated, not as a warning, but as a simple fact. "Migratory. They're rarely seen this far south, usually stick to the Frozen Crown Mountains. High-altitude beast." He tapped a line on the notice. "That's why the pay is six gold. The core is infused with pure frost essence. Valuable. You'll need climbing gear."
The explanation was devoid of any concern for Lei Man's safety; it was a simple clarification of the mission's economics. This wasn't a warning, it was an invoice.
"One silver registration fee," the clerk said, holding out his hand.
Lei Man paid. The clerk stamped the parchment, handed him a copy, and was already yelling "Next!" before Lei Man had even turned from the counter.
The journey to the Frostwind Peaks took two days. He found the nest high on a sheer cliff face, a temporary perch for a magnificent, migrating predator. He began the climb, his body a weightless phantom flowing up the rock.
He was halfway there when a piercing, razor-sharp shriek echoed from the sky. The Snow Falcon descended like a feathered bolt of lightning. It was a creature of the highest, coldest peaks, its feathers the color of fresh snow, its eyes chips of cold, blue ice.
It dove. Lei Man pushed off the rock face, falling away into the open air and landing on a wide ledge fifty feet below. The falcon shrieked in fury, banking for another pass. Lei Man spotted his battlefield: a narrow, deep fissure in the rock face.
The falcon dove again. At the last possible second, Lei Man slipped into the fissure. The falcon, unable to halt its momentum, plunged in after him. In the tight, enclosed space, the falcon's greatest advantages—its speed and wingspan—were now its greatest liabilities.
It lunged, its sharp beak a living spear. Lei Man met the attack head-on, his hands a blur of stinging, fluttering strikes that deflected the beak and hammered against the falcon's powerful neck and breast. It was the Flowing Butterfly Art in its purest form. The falcon thrashed, but it couldn't land a solid blow.
Finally, seeing an opening, Lei Man launched himself forward, his Qi flaring. He used the two-fingered spearhead strike he had discovered against the serpent. He struck the falcon at the base of its neck, a single, precise blow that severed sinew and bone. The magnificent beast shuddered and collapsed.
Exhausted but triumphant, Lei Man climbed the rest of the way to the nest. Inside were two large, perfectly smooth eggs, the color of a pale winter sky.
He carefully placed the eggs and the valuable parts of the falcon into his spatial ring. He stood on the edge of the nest, the cold wind whipping at his clothes, and looked out at the sprawling vista. He hadn't needed a trip. He hadn't needed a miracle. He had faced an enemy of equal strength and had won through skill and strategy. He was no longer just a survivor whose only advantage was his madness. In the silence of the lonely peaks, with no one to witness or care, he knew he was a true cultivator.
The Mercenary Pavilion was a swirling vortex of noise and indifference, a world that paid no mind to the individuals within it. No one looked up as Lei Man entered. He was just another mercenary, returning from another job. The anonymity was a comfort.
He waited his turn in the disorderly line at the counter. When he finally reached the front, the one-eyed clerk looked at him with a blank, impatient expression, showing no sign of recognition.
"What do you want?" the clerk grunted.
"Turning in the Snow Falcon task," Lei Man said, pushing his stamped parchment forward.
"Let's see the goods."
Lei Man placed his hand over the worn wooden counter. With a subtle pulse of Qi, he materialized the required items. First, the two pale, sky-blue eggs, perfectly intact. Then came the falcon's razor-sharp talons and a tied bundle of its pristine, steel-tipped feathers. Finally, the fist-sized, softly glowing beast core appeared, radiating a palpable chill.
The clerk's professional gaze swept over the items. He picked up one of the eggs, holding it to the light, checking for cracks. He tapped a talon with his knuckle.
"Eggs are intact. No fractures. Good," he stated, his voice a monotone drone. He ran a hand over the bundle of feathers. "Feathers are high-altitude quality. Fletchers will pay a decent price for these. A nice little bonus." He gestured to the pile, excluding the core. "The carcass parts, the bonus for the eggs, and the rest of the trophies come to six gold."
He then picked up the beast core, rolling the cold, glowing orb in his palm. "Core is a clean sixth-level frost-type. Standard rate. One gold."
He pushed the items to the side into a collection bin and turned to a heavy, iron-bound chest behind him. There was no awe, no congratulations. This was a simple, cold transaction.
The clerk counted out seven heavy, shining gold coins, their luster a stark contrast to the grimy silver he was used to. The sight of them made Lei Man's breath catch. This was real wealth. Seven gold—the equivalent of fourteen thousand silver—felt like the beginning of an empire.
"Your pay," the clerk said, sliding the coins across the counter. He was already looking past Lei Man, yelling "Next!" to the impatient mercenary waiting behind him.
Lei Man swept the gold coins into a pouch and placed it securely in his spatial ring. He turned away from the counter, melting back into the anonymous, chaotic crowd. He had walked in as "new meat," a G-Rank nobody. He walked out a G-Rank nobody with a small fortune burning a hole in his ring. The indifference of the pavilion didn't bother him. He didn't need their praise. He had their gold. And with it, he could buy the fuel he needed for the next, inevitable descent into the beautiful, productive madness that was rapidly becoming his new way of life.