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Chapter 15: Blood and Fire

In the Crimson Sky Domain, where mountains burned crimson in the twilight and rivers shimmered like molten gold, no name bore more weight than that of the Huo Clan. Their ancestors' legends were not sung in taverns. Instead, they were etched into the bones of the land itself. At the pinnacle of those stories stood one man, the Sky Blazing Sun, the ancient cultivator who had shattered a thousand enemies in a single breath and turned the tide of an age-old war. Because of him, the Huo Clan became more than a family… they became an institution. Monarchs bent the knee. Martial sects dared not speak out of turn. If power was a throne, then the Huo Clan sat upon it with their heads high and eyes looking only skyward.

Yet even gods could be caged.

And legends could die.

The Crimson Sky Domain, once saturated with vibrant qi, now whispered of fading life. Rivers no longer pulsed with spiritual essence. Mountains cracked in silence. Qi, the breath of the world, had thinned over generations. And though the cause was buried under rubble, corpses, and forbidden scrolls, everyone with a sliver of perception knew this depletion was no accident. Other realms had suffered the same fate… realms bled dry by unseen wars and histories hidden beneath the whitewash of time.

In one such realm, inside an ornate palanquin lined with phoenix-feather silk and guarded by ten elite cultivators, Huo Jian stirred.

The youth opened his eyes. Dark irises the color of cooled obsidian flicked toward the ceiling. He could feel it… the subtle imbalance in the air. The qi was weaker here than yesterday. It was always weaker.

"Like watching a fire die one ember at a time," he thought.

The palanquin swayed gently as it made its descent along the road carved into the sky-reaching cliffs. Then, without warning, it came to a halt.

A voice boomed outside, clear and proud. "Behold! The Rising Phoenix of the Huo Clan! Scion of Flame! Heir of the Sky Blazing Sun! May the heavens tremble before him, may the earth bow!"

Huo Jian exhaled through his nose.

"So much noise for such a small kingdom."

He parted the silken curtain.

The sun met him immediately, a golden blaze across his sharp features. His long black hair rippled like ink against firelight, bound loosely by a crimson thread bearing the clan's emblem… a blazing sun crossed with a sword.

He stepped down. The moment his boots touched the ground, the monarch… some petty ruler from a border kingdom… bowed so deeply his forehead brushed the marble tiles of the palace stairs.

"Welcome, Young Master Huo Jian!" the monarch cried. "Your presence honors this humble land! May your flames bring prosperity to our soil!"

Jian's gaze was calm. He said nothing at first, letting the silence stretch and weigh down the monarch's shoulders.

"You've prepared the altar?" he finally asked, voice smooth and controlled.

"Yes, Young Master! The altar is ready. The array has been inscribed exactly as your clan requested, and the tribute of spirit stones has been gathered in full…"

"I don't care for stones," Jian interrupted. "Qi. That is what I want."

The monarch paled. "Y-Yes… the gathering site is atop the northern cliffs. The qi there is… faint, but still active."

Jian nodded, already stepping past him. His guards followed in perfect formation.

As they walked, he glanced skyward. The clouds were thin today. The sun blazed, but it lacked the fury he carried within.

"Nine layers," he thought. "Nine perfect spirals of qi. My dantian strains beneath them. It is almost time, but not quite yet."

He had reached the Peak of Qi Gathering, something unheard of in a land like this. Most cultivators plateaued at the sixth layer, maybe seventh if they were lucky. But he had formed nine. All of them pure, all of them stable. His body now hung on the cusp of something greater… the Foundation Establishment!

He clenched his fist. Heat surged from his core, radiating out into his limbs.

"The Crimson Sky Domain has been starved for too long. I will be the first to shatter its ceiling in centuries. I will show them that this realm can still burn."

They reached the altar site within the hour. The stone platform was old, cracked by time, but the formation etched into it pulsed faintly with power. It would do.

Jian walked to the center and sat cross-legged. His guards moved to form a protective circle around the perimeter.

He closed his eyes and began to breathe.

Inhale. Qi flowed in… scarce, reluctant, but real.

Exhale. Impurities fled.

Inhale. The world dimmed around him.

"Soon," he whispered inwardly, "I will carve my name into history. And when the Foundation forms… they will see me not as heir, not as child, but as the first flame to rise from the ashes."

After some time of circulating his qi and entering the proper mindset, Huo Jian decided he was ready. The chamber was silent, save for the low crackle of array-forged fire and the faint hum of suppressing talismans clinging to the stone walls like ivy.

Slowly, Huo Jian opened his eyes.

They were sharp, glowing faintly red like embers stirred from sleep.

Without a word, he stood, his expression unreadable. He reached up and unfastened the upper layer of his crimson robes, letting them fall from his shoulders. His torso, bare and unblemished, radiated a faint sheen of spiritual light… his flesh tempered by years of cultivated flame, each muscle honed not through battle, but through relentless refinement.

Then he sat again upon the obsidian slab, legs crossed, back straight, and closed his eyes.

A breath.

Then came the surge.

His qi exploded outward, flooding his meridians with fierce intensity. Like a tide of flame rushing through a network of silver rivers, his energy moved without pause, without obstruction. The nine qi layers that orbited his dantian like defensive walls shimmered into view, each a testament to his perfection in the Qi Gathering realm.

But they were no longer enough.

The Clan had done their part. They had emptied resources, offered ancient manuals, and even begun trades with other realms, begging for rare elixirs and long-lost techniques. It was all to push Huo Jian… their pride and their hope… into Foundation Establishment.

And still, it had not been enough.

That was when the rumor reached him… a demonic bird, a strange beast that spoke in the human tongue, encountered by a cultivator of their clan. An impossibility, or so the elders thought. The demonic beasts had long been hunted to extinction. The Crimson Sky Domain had been bled dry, not just of qi, but of life that could contain it.

Admittedly, it was not impossible for new demonic beasts to appear in the domain.

Huo Jian had not hesitated.

He had funded the expedition himself.

"If the heavens are stingy," he had declared to the elders, "then we'll wring it from the flesh of beasts."

The result was in front of him now: a cluster of qi-filled orbs, each the core organ of slain cultivating beasts… dantian equivalents in monstrous form. Glowing faintly with life essence, they pulsed like hearts, defiant even in death.

One by one, Huo Jian lifted the orbs, and set them aflame with his own inner fire.

They burned.

And then, so did he.

The flames coiled up his arms, crawled across his chest, and entered his pores like serpents of light. Each orb's destruction released a torrent of qi, refined through flame and discipline, filtered through his meridians and directed toward the bottleneck that had plagued him for months.

He grit his teeth.

A tremor ran through the chamber.

His breath grew ragged.

"A little bit more," he thought, sweat beading on his brow as he pounded again and again at the invisible wall barring him from advancement.

The wall cracked.

"More!"

The cracks spread.

"Break… damn you!"

With a soundless roar, the barrier shattered.

Qi erupted from within like a storm breaking free of a cage. Huo Jian's body convulsed as the nine spiraling layers around his dantian collapsed, not into ruin, but into transformation. Like molten gold poured into a mold, the energies were reabsorbed, reshaped, and reconstructed into something greater.

A single, resilient dantian, condensed and unyielding, emerged from the chaos.

He gasped, then laughed… wild, triumphant laughter that echoed off the stone.

His aura surged. The flames around his body dimmed as his Divine Sense was reforged anew. It reached inward first, studying the new world within him. His vision… no longer bound by flesh alone… traveled through his own body, marvelling at the core he had forged.

"Foundation Establishment…" he murmured.

He clenched his fists and felt the solidified qi respond instantly.

"No Awakening Pill needed after all," he chuckled. "The heavens must have realized who I am."

His Divine Sense stretched further, touching the edge of the chamber and even brushing against the guards waiting outside. They flinched. Some stumbled back.

"Tell the Elders," he called, voice calm now, "their gamble has paid off."

He reached for his robes again, still smiling.

"Now," he said to no one in particular, "find me more of those… demonic beasts!"

"Young Lord Huo," the monarch started, lips quivering. "Your name brings glory to our humble province. My daughter… she is virtuous, refined in tea ceremony and poetry. She would be honored to serve you in any manner that pleases your Excellency. The people will risk there flesh and bone to hunt demonic beasts if it pleases you. In your wait, I only ask for your patience."

Huo Jian's expression twisted.

Disgust, sharp and immediate, curled across his face. He flared his qi in a suffocating wave of heat rolling outward in a sudden burst. The gathered mortals from officials and servants alike, staggered from the heat. The monarch fell to his knees with a choked gasp, his face drained of all color.

"Why," Huo Jian said flatly, without looking at the man, "does this cattle speak to me? Has it mistaken me for an equal?"

One of his guards stepped forward, expression stoic. He bowed at the waist.

"How do you wish to deal with him, Young Lord?"

The monarch began kowtowing with frantic abandon, forehead striking the stone with audible thuds.

"Forgive me! Forgive this fool, great one!"

The sound of bone against marble echoed pitifully.

Another guard, a bit older, chuckled lowly.

"His daughter is indeed quite beautiful, Young Lord. It would not be inappropriate to reward yourself… at your leisure."

Huo Jian turned his eyes toward the man. Then, he looked away.

"Reward the cattle with gold. They cling to such things like it's their lifeblood. It's trash to us, but it will make them squeal in joy."

The guards nodded, not questioning the order.

Huo Jian narrowed his eyes, then added in a colder tone:

"As for the daughter… do what you like. If you're so enchanted, keep her. Share her. Parade her. I don't care what becomes of her. But don't you ever suggest to me, to engage in bestiality ever again."

The first guard bowed again.

"Forgive me if I have spoken out of turn, Young Lord. Thank you for your generosity."

A younger guard approached the still-trembling monarch and spoke with an edge of mockery.

"What do you say to the Young Lord, hm?"

The monarch looked up with hollow eyes, tears streaking his cheeks.

"T-thank you," he stammered, voice breaking.

Huo Jian observed him for a moment, brow furrowed in something that might have been curiosity.

"Why is he crying?"

Another guard answered, ever helpful.

"It must be tears of joy, Young Lord. To be acknowledged by your greatness, even briefly… what cattle wouldn't weep?"

Huo Jian said nothing. He stepped forward, brushing past the bowed figures without a glance. As his aura receded, the heat faded, but the taste of ash lingered in the air.

"They call this a kingdom," he thought aloud. "Yet it bows like a dog at the first breath of power. How pitiful."

He returned to the palanquin.

There was still much to do.

Chapter 16: Definitely Not What I Expected

I've never been on an adventure before.

Sure, I'd run for my life. More than once, actually. I'd scrambled through thorny brush, rolled down hills, flown into trees, and even played dead more times than I'd like to admit. But none of that counted. That wasn't an adventure… that was survival. Chaotic, clumsy survival.

This though… this was different.

I had a goal. A direction. I was going from Place A (Sacred Hill, now sadly behind me) to Place B (anywhere Master might be), and I wasn't just running for my life… I was running with purpose.

And surprise, surprise…

I found out almost immediately how completely out of my depth I was.

Behind me… snorting, stomping, and snarling… was a giant boar. And when I say giant, I mean it was bigger than any beast I'd ever seen outside of Master's illustrated scrolls. It looked like it had chewed through trees for breakfast and headbutted boulders for fun. Its tusks curved like swords, and its eyes, gods above, its eyes were small but mean.

Now, I'd like to say I stood my ground nobly and tried to negotiate peace like a proper enlightened beast. Instead, I screeched, turned tail, and ran like feathers on fire.

I don't know if it was a demonic beast or just a really, really big pig. I mean, I know demonic beasts were supposed to have qi and "wisdom," but… I couldn't exactly sense those things yet. My nose wasn't trained for it, and my divine sense was, well, non-existent.

I'm a darn body-tempering beast!

All I had was instinct. And that instinct screamed: "YOU'RE NOT READY FOR THIS!"

Luckily, I wasn't entirely hopeless. Master hadn't trained me for nothing.

With a running leap, I bounded up the trunk of a tree, flapping my stubby wings for balance, and vaulted onto a thick branch. It wobbled under my weight, but held. Good tree. Smart tree.

Below, the boar slammed into the bark with a furious snort, shaking the trunk. I almost fell.

"Easy now, easy…" I muttered to myself, pressing flat against the branch.

Then, I tried something bold. Maybe stupid, but bold.

Master had taught me the basics of the beast tongue… a way demonic beasts could speak to each other even without human language. So I cleared my throat and tried.

"Friend?" I called out in beast-speak, tilting my head. "I mean no harm. Just passing by."

The boar stopped. It stared up at me with narrowed eyes and snorted again, a deep, grumbling exhale that shook the leaves.

It didn't respond.

Not verbally, anyway.

Instead, it snarled, flicked its tail in irritation, and turned around, stomping off into the underbrush like I'd just insulted its ancestors.

"Okay…" I breathed, still not moving. "Not friendly. Got it."

But there was something there. The way it had paused, like it had understood. It hadn't attacked me blindly. That was… interesting. Maybe not intelligent like Master, but not just a dumb beast either.

"That was probably wisdom, right?" I said aloud to no one in particular. "Wisdom and annoyance."

I waited. Five minutes. Ten minutes.

No crashing hooves. No angry snorts.

I exhaled slowly, easing down onto my belly against the branch. The bark scratched at my feathers, but it was solid. Safe.

"This isn't quite how I pictured things," I whispered to myself. "But then again, I never really pictured what an adventure would be like."

All I knew was that I was alone now. For real.

No Master to laugh at my missteps.

No cozy hill.

Just a dumb bird in a very large world filled with angry pigs, forgotten roads, and the faint hope that somewhere out there, Master was still alive.

I stared up at the canopy above me, the sky peeking through in golden slivers.

"I'll find you, Master," I said softly. "Even if I have to climb every tree and dodge every beast between here and the heavens."

My thoughts were interrupted by a sharp thunk to the back of my head.

I squawked in pain and nearly lost my balance, my claws scraping against bark as I flapped wildly to steady myself on the branch. Spite rose in my chest as I turned around, glaring, ready to rain curses on whatever fool thought it was funny to hit a bird mid-thought.

That's when I saw him.

A yellow-furred monkey crouched on a branch a few paces away, laughing his shrill, wheezing laugh like he'd just witnessed the best joke of the year. He had a long tail that flicked back and forth, and his bright eyes gleamed with mischief.

"Such a dumbass," he said in beast-speak between his wheezing. "You just sat there like a plum waiting to be knocked off. Priceless."

I didn't reply right away. I stared at him, feathers bristling, still rubbing the sore spot on my head with a wing. My irritation didn't fade when I noticed what he was carrying. A short spear rested against his shoulder, the shaft weathered but well-maintained, its iron tip catching the sunlight. It wasn't a toy. It wasn't something picked up for play. It was a weapon, forged and used.

"You know pigs," he continued, unbothered by my silence, "they're known for their stubbornness and low intelligence. Of course they can't talk properly. Most demonic beasts in the wilds? No better than animals. You're lucky that one didn't try to eat you out of sheer boredom."

I kept my eyes on the spear. Master had told me about beasts like this. It was rare for cultivating beasts to use weapons, and even rarer for them to use them well. Most didn't need to. Their claws, fangs, or innate techniques were enough. But some… especially those with weak starts or clever minds… took different paths. They used tools. They used tricks. This monkey, I guessed, was one of those.

I didn't like his tone, but I wasn't foolish enough to pick a fight over pride.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice edged with caution.

He tilted his head, curious. I added quickly, "Just to warn you, I know martial arts."

For a moment, he just blinked. Then his mouth curled back into a grin and he burst into another round of laughter.

"A bird who knows martial arts?" he cackled. "Hahahaha! What's next? A rabbit who teaches swordplay? A snail with lightning techniques? Hoooh, strange world we live in."

I let him laugh. It wasn't like I hadn't heard that tone before: mocking, amused, and dismissive. I used to care. Now I just measured people who laughed like that. Sometimes they were harmless. Sometimes they had too much confidence and not enough bite. But sometimes, they laughed because they were strong.

Still, I didn't sense killing intent from him. Just mischief and curiosity. That, at least, was manageable.

He stopped laughing eventually, resting the spear across the back of his shoulders and letting his long arms hang casually over it.

"Didn't mean anything by it," he said. "I was just passing by and saw you trying to chat up a pig. Thought I'd stick around and watch you get stomped. You lasted longer than I expected."

I ruffled my feathers again and tried not to show how close that stomp had actually been.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I said dryly.

"Anytime," he grinned.

There was a beat of silence between us. He examined me with sharp, clever eyes, and I did the same. He wasn't someone I trusted, but he didn't seem like someone I needed to avoid either. At least not yet.

He gestured toward the forest with a flick of his chin.

"You heading deeper?"

I gave a small nod.

He scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"Well, if you're smart, you'll keep to the trees. And don't waste your time trying to talk to everything you see. Wisdom's rare out here. And the ones that have it? Some of them would rather silence you than answer."

That wasn't exactly encouraging, but it was more warning than threat. I took it as advice.

"Noted," I replied.

He shrugged and hopped to a higher branch, balancing with ease.

"Strange bird," he said, giving me one last look. "But maybe not the worst kind of strange."

With that, he vanished into the foliage, moving through the trees with an acrobat's grace and a thief's silence.

I sat there for a while, watching the spot where he'd disappeared. My head still throbbed from the hit, but the pain was already dulling. My thoughts returned, a bit more grounded now.

Strange bird, he'd said.

Maybe I was.

But I was also a bird with purpose.

Ah, I forgot to ask him if he'd seen a squirrel with a sword around. The thought hit me just as the monkey disappeared into the canopy. My wings drooped a little. That was probably my best shot at getting any real direction in these woods. I wasn't even sure if I was still heading east. Maybe Master had left tracks behind, or signs, or maybe… no, that was wishful thinking. Squirrels didn't leave footprints on branches.

Then, as if summoned by my regret, the monkey came back, swinging from a vine with that same grin stretched across his dumb yellow face.

My expression brightened.

"Hey! Wait, before you go again, have you seen a squirre—"

My words got cut off as the monkey suddenly yelled out, loud enough to scare a whole flock of birds out of the nearby trees.

"Boys! Here's that plump chicken I saw earlier! We're eating good today!"

What?

From the branches behind him, more yellow-furred monkeys emerged. I didn't even get time to count them. Some carried sticks. Others had stones. One even had a rusted pot lid, like he was ready to make soup out of me right there and then.

I squawked as the first rock came flying. I dodged, barely, and launched myself off the branch.

"Hey! I'm not a chicken, you bastards!"

They didn't care. Another rock grazed my tail feathers. I flapped hard and aimed for the next tree, landing with a clumsy wobble. I leapt again, this time lower, just barely weaving between the thick branches.

"I knew I should've learned a movement technique," I grumbled. "Anything would've helped! Wind Steps, Shadow Glide, even Leaf Skipping... Ugh, anything but this!"

The monkeys were fast. One of them swung through the vines with practiced ease, closing the gap. I could see the gleam of his sharpened teeth as he hooted, preparing to tackle me mid-air.

"Don't you dare!"

I twisted mid-leap and reared my head back, focusing all my strength into my neck and beak. Qi surged through me, steady, focused, deadly.

"Earth. Breaking. Spade!"

I slammed my beak forward, straight into the monkey's chest. There was a wet crunch. The monkey exploded in midair, reduced to chunks of meat and fur and something that smelled like boiled liver. Blood sprayed the trees, painting the bark in a sickening splash of red.

I landed shakily, wings trembling.

"Oh my god… OH MY GOD! That was nasty!"

My heart pounded. I'd trained that technique for years, cracked hundreds of boulders, but I'd never used it on something alive before. I glanced back, and the other monkeys had stopped mid-pursuit, some with their mouths agape. One even dropped his stick.

"Well… still think I'm a chicken?"

I tried to puff out my chest. It quivered instead. I wasn't sure if I wanted to fight or just throw up.

The monkeys began to chatter among themselves. I couldn't understand most of it, but I heard a clear "run!" and a moment later, they scattered back into the trees like rats fleeing a fire.

I exhaled, shaking.

My first real fight in the wild… and I won.

Kind of.

Also, I might be traumatized forever.

"Master would've scolded me for panicking like that," I muttered.

Then again, Master wasn't here. I had to be both disciple and teacher for now. Maybe that was part of the journey.

I took a breath and looked toward the sun.

East, I told myself. Just keep going east.

And maybe next time, ask the monkey questions before letting it leave.

Chapter 17: Enlightened Beast

Strangely enough, I didn't feel conflicted or anything after committing my first murder.

I sat by the riverbank, my feathers still dripping. The current was gentle here, winding lazily through a grove of moss-covered trees. A dragonfly hovered above the surface before darting away, and the only sound for a moment was the soft gurgle of water. My eyes stared at the rippling reflection of a bloodstained bird.

Was it normal to be this calm? Should I feel guilt? Revulsion?

I tilted my head, watching the distorted image shift in the current.

I didn't know if that monkey had a spark of wisdom or if he was just another beast who happened to speak. Master once said there were different kinds of cultivating beasts… solitary ones like leopards or snakes, and then there were the Pack types. According to him, pack beasts were strange. If one of them awakened and became wise, the rest sometimes followed, especially if that awakened one was stronger. It was like a chain reaction… the stronger the leader, the greater the odds the rest would rise above mere instinct.

I wondered if the monkey I exploded have a family. Maybe even a wife, a few children, and even grandparents. Maybe I just started a war with a bunch of banana-munching lunatics. Great.

I sighed and slumped against a rock. The sun peeked through the canopy, warming my damp feathers. It had been a week… maybe two… since I left the Sacred Hill. I didn't keep track of the days. Every sunrise blurred into the next. Every night was spent in a different tree, sometimes curled awkwardly under a leaf, other times balancing on a branch, hoping nothing tried to kill me in my sleep.

I had used my martial arts more than I expected. Master said martial techniques were treasures passed down through the sects, meant to be cultivated and mastered over years. Apparently, I was cultivating mine by sheer necessity. I was bruised, scratched, and reeked of blood. My beak had chipped once. My wing still ached from that tumble down a ravine two days ago.

The Earth Breaking Spade had been my most-used move. A straight, stabbing jab powered by my entire body and my qi. Master had scolded me once when I used it to break a rock out of boredom. Now, I was using it to blow holes in enemies.

And it worked.

Far too well.

I submerged myself again, letting the water rinse off dried blood and dirt. Some of it came off in streaks. Other patches clung stubbornly to my feathers. I couldn't tell if the red stains were monkey or something else. Honestly, I didn't want to think about it.

I missed the Sacred Hill.

I missed Master's nagging voice, his lazy yawns, the smell of tea steeping in the mornings. I missed having a place to sleep that didn't involve worrying about falling off a branch or being ambushed by stone-throwing simians.

But most of all, I missed having direction. Real direction.

Right now, all I had was a vague goal… find Master. Somehow. Somewhere.

I hopped out of the river, shook myself dry, and looked around. The forest wasn't entirely unfriendly, but it had made it clear I wasn't welcome. Still, I had survived this long. That had to count for something.

"You better be in trouble, old squirrel," I muttered. "Because if you left me just to go on a vacation, I'm going to pluck your tail."

I spread my wings, took a running hop, and launched back into the trees.

Another day. Another chance to get ambushed.

Wonderful.

A few more days of wandering. A few more days of flapping through brush and dodging aggressive squirrels and spear-wielding monkeys. But finally, I got something solid.

I met a turtle. And not just any turtle. This one was the size of a house and so old I swear the moss growing on his back had its own ecosystem. His shell was like a boulder, covered in faint lines that glowed slightly when the sunlight hit them just right. He floated in a shallow lake that looked more like a crater filled with sky-colored water.

At first, I thought he was a rock. I hopped onto him and was about to nap when the "rock" moved and nearly sent me flying.

A low rumble like thunder rolled out from beneath me.

"Little bird."

His voice echoed directly in my head, like a thought that didn't belong to me.

"You're far from your nest. What brings you to my waters?"

I straightened up, cleared my throat, and tried to sound confident.

"I'm looking for someone. A squirrel with a sword. Short, smug, and very grumpy."

The turtle didn't laugh. He blinked slowly, as if the speed of the world simply didn't apply to him.

"Ah. The sword-wielding sage. I saw him."

My feathers perked up instantly. I almost fell off his shell again in my excitement.

"You did? When? Where?"

He floated lazily in a slow circle. Ripples spread out from his massive form, disturbing the reflection of the trees above.

"He passed by here some time ago. Headed south, toward the mountains where the sky grows red at dusk. He did not stop long, only asked a few questions and offered a peach. A decent peach."

My heart fluttered. That sounded like Master. Offering fruit, asking questions, and leaving in a dramatic fashion. That was him to the core.

Why was he going south? And… how recent was this?

I dropped off from his back, landing lightly on the grass.

The turtle's massive head turned toward me. His eyes were deep, layered with age and a patience I didn't yet understand.

"There is unrest. Among the humans."

He didn't have to explain. I'd seen the signs. Sects and clans were stirring, hunting beasts like me for cultivation materials or spiritual cores.

"They hunt anything with a spark now. Even those who've never harmed their kind. Enlightened beasts, as we call ourselves. But to them... we're all just the same… demonic. Different. Prey."

I tilted my head.

"Enlightened beasts?"

That was a new term I've learned today. Beasts weren't really big on writing books… and culture among our kind was rather… meh.

The turtle gave a soft chuckle, like stones rolling together.

"There are many names for what we are, little one. Humans call most of us demonic beasts, especially those who have gained speech, wisdom, or strength from feeding on blood. Or just because they don't like us. We call ourselves enlightened when we've awakened, when our hearts guide our claws and not hunger. And then… there are sacred beasts."

"Sacred beasts?"

I'd heard that term before, but only from Master muttering to himself during meditation. Few and far between. Known for their virtue, for compassion beyond survival. Respected even by monks and daoists. Not all who are wise are sacred, and not all sacred ones are wise.

He turned away slightly, staring at something only he could see.

"Your Master… he may be seeking them."

That made me pause. Master always did have strange interests. He once chased a flying fish across three hills just to see if it could recite poetry. Maybe this sacred beast stuff was another of his eccentric goals.

I bowed… or tried to, which was difficult, given my physique.

"Thank you, honored turtle. You've given me more than I've had since I started."

He didn't respond. He simply closed his eyes and began to sink. Not fast, but… slowly, deliberately, like a mountain deciding it didn't want to be seen anymore. The lake swallowed him, ripples fading until it was as still as glass.

I stood there for a moment, still staring.

South.

I had a direction now.

Hopefully, I wouldn't forget what "south" was.

I glanced at the sun, made a few circles in the air to orient myself, and took off, flapping clumsily toward the crimson-tinged horizon.

"Hang on, Master. I'm coming."

It didn't take long for trouble to find me. Again.

This time, it wasn't a spear-wielding monkey or a giant boar. No, it was humans. A ragged group, lean and dirty, their clothes patched with leaves and scraps of beast hide. They didn't bear the Huo Clan's markings, nor any sect insignias I recognized, not that I was an expert, but I'd spent enough time on the Sacred Hill to know what proper cultivators looked like. These ones were different. Wandering vagrants? Bandits? Hunters?

They carried no real weapon or spirit talismans, but a few of them moved like trained fighters, and worse… some radiated a faint pressure that tickled my instincts. Body Tempering cultivators. Not all of them, but at least two.

I recalled what Master once said, and his words echoed clear in my head.

"Against humans of the same realm, you'll be stronger. Beasts are born with superior bodies. But once they wield martial arts or cultivate proper techniques, the scales shift. Never take a human lightly if he has form and discipline."

And these ones… despite their smell and their ratty pants… had some level of form. One even tried to sneak up on me from the left, thinking I wouldn't notice.

I did.

I flared my internal energy, reared my head back, and slammed it twice against the base of a nearby tree. The technique echoed from my bones: Earth Breaking Spade.

The thick oak-like trunk cracked on the second strike. My stamina dipped hard… I could feel the ache in my chest and wings… but it was worth it. The tree toppled with a groan and crashed toward the bandits like a wooden avalanche. Some scattered in panic, others leapt back with yelps, but I'd already broken left, diving into the opening.

A blade flashed from the right.

I twisted on instinct and struck again with my beak… Earth Breaking Spade. Sparks flew as metal met bone. A clang echoed across the forest, louder than it had any right to be. The man holding the sword staggered, his eyes wide.

"This bird… what the hell?!" he muttered.

His confusion didn't last long. If anything, it made them more determined.

They started shouting to each other, tightening formation. That's when a wide net came flying at me from above. It was big enough to catch a cow… and more than enough to trap a flightless bird.

Fortunately, I wasn't daydreaming.

I dropped, tucked, and rolled hard to the left, slipping right under one of their legs. The net landed on him instead with a satisfying thump.

He shouted in surprise, but I was already back on my feet… well, claws.

Another man came barreling toward me with a round wooden shield. He probably thought that would stop me. That was cute.

I lowered my beak and lunged. Earth Breaking Spade, again.

The shield cracked. My beak slammed past the splinters and struck his forearm. I felt the bone snap.

He screamed.

I didn't wait to hear the end of it. I knew hesitation would get me nowhere with these people.

I leapt high… higher than before… and tucked my wings tight.

Sky Piercing Talon.

This wasn't a warning blow. I aimed to kill.

My claws slashed down at one of the bandits' exposed backs, but to my surprise, he twisted and braced just in time. He took the blow and grunted but didn't fall. I saw blood. I saw pain. But no retreat. Not yet.

These humans were more resilient than I'd expected. More stubborn than yellow-furred monkeys, more annoying than wild boars. They kept chasing, yelling, throwing nets and rocks, circling like wolves. Their numbers alone made my feathers itch.

So, I did the only thing I knew would work.

I ran straight for the river. Not a gentle stream. The rapids.

If there was one escape method Master had taught me in his stories that worked against most pursuers, it was this. "No one wants to chase a flailing bird down a violent river," he once said. "Even sword-riding cultivators get their sleeves wet."

I dove headfirst into the roaring current.

The cold water slapped the air out of me, and the world spun, bubbles and foam blinding my vision. But I kicked and flailed and let the river take me. Behind me, the bandits shouted curses and tried to follow, but I knew the terrain better than them.

The rapids swept me away.

Branches overhead blurred past. Rocks under the surface tried to bruise my belly. But I was moving… fast, far, and away.

And that was all that mattered.