Hunting a Rabbit, Startling the Dragon

Wu Ming stepped forward with sword in hand, his expression cruel. With each step, the distance between him and Uncle Sun dwindled, an inevitable fate drawing closer.

Kneeling on the ground, Uncle Sun trembled as he gazed at the young cultivator approaching him. He could find no trace of mercy in Wu Ming's eyes.

Forcing himself to prostrate, Sun Cheng pressed his head against the dirt. "Master Wu Ming, please have mercy! I, I was blind! I only wanted to secure my family's future…"

Wu Ming did not pause.

Uncle Sun's heart pounded, each beat hammering against his ribcage like the frantic flapping of a caged bird.

"You and I, we have shared history. If not for me, would you have lived so long?" Uncle Sun cried. "Back in the village, when your father fell ill, did I not lend you medicine? When you were young and lost in the forest, did I not search for you all night? Master Wu Ming… I have always treated you as one of my own!"

Still, Wu Ming did not answer.

His pace did not quicken, but neither did it slow. Every step was measured, like the tolling of a great bell announcing the end of mortal life.

In truth, Wu Ming had already decided.

He would not kill Uncle Sun.

But the old man did not need to know that.

Wu Ming purposefully took his time closing the last stretch of distance, watching and waiting. He knew that in a man's final moments, when he clung desperately to life, things otherwise left unsaid would often spill out.

A secret. A treasure. A hidden card.

But Uncle Sun had nothing.

Only regret, only fear, only cowardice.

'How disappointing.'

Wu Ming finally halted just an arm's length away. The sword in his hand lifted, gleaming with cruel indifference. Uncle Sun squeezed his eyes shut, his body curling in on itself as he braced for the blade's bite.

But the sword never fell.

Instead, Wu Ming sheathed it.

A long silence stretched. Slowly, Uncle Sun opened his eyes, confusion written across his features.

"Huh?"

At first, his mind refused to process it. Then realization struck, and he sucked in a sharp breath, relief surging through his limbs like a flood breaking through a dam.

He was alive.

He was alive!

Uncle Sun sobbed, pressing his forehead against the dirt once more. "Thank you, Master Wu Ming! Thank you for your great mercy! This lowly one will never forget your kindne—"

"Do not be so happy, Uncle Sun." Wu Ming's voice was stern.

Uncle Sun stiffened.

"What you have done is a crime against the sect that has sheltered you your entire life. Sect laws dictate immediate execution of your entire family." Wu Ming's gaze was ruthless. "If it were anyone else standing before you, you would already be dead."

Uncle Sun swallowed hard.

"You are only alive because it is me." Wu Ming looked at him deeply. "But do not take this as an opportunity to act foolishly. There will not be a second chance."

Uncle Sun nodded frantically, his body trembling.

Wu Ming gave him a last look before turning around and ascending the narrow path leading out of the cave. As he climbed, his voice echoed down.

"Tell your boy to participate this time. I will ensure his safety."

Uncle Sun froze, his breath catching. Then, before he could even process the meaning of those words, Wu Ming spoke once more.

"And I don't think I have to tell you that what happened today must remain a secret."

Silence followed.

Uncle Sun stared at Wu Ming's retreating figure, his body trembling. Then he quietly lowered his head to the ground and kowtowed, his gratitude burned deep, deeper than words could ever express.

In his heart, the image of the young scholar Wu Ming had completely changed. He was no longer the person he once knew. Cold and ruthless, yet carrying an unfathomable trace of benevolence, that image rooted itself deep within his soul.

....

Morning light spilled over the Black River Sect, its golden rays piercing the lingering mist. The crisp clang of swords clashing occasionally echoed through the mountain paths, while scattered outer disciples sat in quiet meditation, absorbing the first traces of spiritual energy rising with the dawn.

Wu Ming ran through the winding paths of the outer sect, his breathing steady, his expression as frigid as the morning wind.

He was not some brute who relied on force alone to solve problems, only to create greater ones in their wake.

Temptation had been there. Killing Sun Cheng and his entire family would have ensured the secret of the Scarlet Blood Crystals remained his.

It would have been simple and clean.

Afterall, mortals were nothing before cultivators. Killing them was no different from cutting grass.

And yet, Wu Ming did not.

Sentiment? Absolutely not.

It was about risk.

Unnecessary bloodshed invited unnecessary attention.

Su Lingxue's death was already on his mind. Investigations would probably follow. If the village suffered a string of strange deaths, particularly ones linked to him, suspicion would arise.

His fellow cultivator friends knew little of his past, but the mortals in the village did. And even if they were powerless, they could still whisper.

Then there was Liu Han. That Senior Brother of his was trouble. For the past four years, he had acted as the village's guardian and had witnessed Wu Ming's interactions with the villagers numerous times. He knew of Wu Ming's close ties to these people.

Even if he did not suspect Wu Ming directly, he would notice the pattern of deaths. Planting seeds of doubt in the very person meant to sell his story of victimhood was not a wise move.

That was the first reason.

The second was image.

Wu Ming had abandoned his scholar's persona, but he had yet to cement a new one. Becoming known as a senseless killer was unnecessary at this stage. Cultivators killed, that was natural. But reckless killing? That was a trait belonging to demonic cultivators. A big no-no.

A cultivator's greatest weapon was not his sword but his mind. Wu Ming had come dangerously close to killing the rabbit and startling the dragon.

Thirdly, there was the matter of usefulness.

Why discard a tool that could still be of value?

When Uncle Sun revealed his treasure, Wu Ming had been fully prepared to kill him. But when Sun Cheng explained how he had acquired it, Wu Ming's logic overrode impulse. Mortals were not entirely worthless. Their value depended on their willingness to act and the circumstances surrounding them.

A thought took root inside him.

Uncle Sun had some ability, some influence in the village. If a need arose, he could be of use. Then there was his son, who would soon attempt the entrance exam. If he became a cultivator, Wu Ming could take him as a subordinate. With his father's loyalty, manipulation would not be difficult. Even if the son proved useless, there were other children in the village. With Uncle Sun's help, obtaining information would be much easier.

Wu Ming felt a shift in his thinking. On a chessboard, one could not focus only on where to step. The positioning of the other pieces mattered just as much. Not every problem needed to be solved with a blade. Wit was just as important as strength.

For that reason, he had decided to let the rabbit live.

By the time his thoughts settled, Wu Ming reached his residence. Without hesitation, he stepped inside and locked the door behind him.

Seating himself cross-legged, he withdrew the Scarlet Blood Crystals. Their deep crimson glow pulsed like beating hearts.

Wu Ming took a deep breath, grasped a handful of Scarlet Blood Crystals, and with a clear mind, began draining their essence into his body.

A torrent of blood energy surged through his meridians, thick and viscous, like molten iron coursing through ancient channels. At first, it was formless, an amorphous sea of crimson, roiling with untamed energy.

Wu Ming exerted precise control, guiding the influx of blood energy with unwavering focus. Gradually, the energies began to take shape, condensing and coiling, molding into the embryonic form of a heart.

The crystal fragments crumbled between his fingers, drained of all vitality. Without pause, he seized another handful, continuing to temper and solidify the newborn heart. It was still incomplete, its foundation unsteady, requiring further tempering before it could be truly considered whole.

But with each passing second, its shape grew clearer, its texture more distinct, resembling a true heart in both form and presence.

Throughout the process, the bloody heart resisted its transformation like a newborn beast, but Wu Ming's will was absolute. It had no choice but to be tamed.

Sweat gathered on his brow, but his expression remained composed. The pile of Scarlet Blood Crystals dwindled as the Blood Elemental Essence Heart grew denser and more refined.

Nearly an hour passed before the last trace of energy settled. Wu Ming opened his eyes, a crimson gleam flickering in their depths.

Less than a third of the crystals remained. He clenched his fist, sensing the change within. The Blood Elemental Essence Heart was complete.