The Blood Mist Territory
The Blood Mist Territory
___
Jiang Yun moved like a shadow through the valley, his steps light, deliberate.
The scent of blood had become part of the air itself, thick and cloying, settling in the back of his throat like a bitter poison.
By now, he had grown accustomed to the way this place felt—suffocating, twisted, wrong.
It was not simply a battlefield.
It was a graveyard.
The deeper he walked, the heavier the silence became. No howling scavengers. No distant clashes of steel.
The world itself seemed to hold its breath.
Something was near.
Something watching.
Jiang Yun adjusted the spear strapped to his back. The weight was unfamiliar, but better than the rusted sword at his hip. His wounds still ached, but he could feel the healing ointment working, dulling the sharpest edges of pain.
He did not slow his steps.
To survive in this valley, one must never stop moving.
The corpses appeared first.
Scattered across the bloodstained earth, broken bodies lay twisted and lifeless, their chests torn open, their flesh flayed.
Jiang Yun had seen death before, but this was different.
This was not the work of men.
Not a scavenger's blade. Not the result of battle.
Something else had done this.
Jiang Yun crouched beside one of the corpses, his fingers brushing over deep, jagged wounds. The cuts were rough, imprecise—not from a weapon, but claws.
His stomach tightened.
The bodies were still fresh.
The killer was close.
He did not move immediately.
Instead, he listened.
The wind had stopped.
The valley was still.
But beneath the silence—something else stirred.
A slow, rasping breath.
Not human.
Not scavenger.
Something worse.
Jiang Yun's grip on his spear tightened.
Not yet.
He would not engage blindly.
His first battle against a cultivator had nearly killed him. His first hunt had nearly ended with his own blood on the ground.
This time, he would see before striking.
He lowered his body, keeping close to the earth, his breathing slow and measured.
Through the mist, he caught the first glimpse of movement.
It was feeding.
A creature, large and hunched, its spine jutting from its back like jagged bone.
Its hands—**long, clawed fingers—**dug into the body of a fallen cultivator, tearing muscle from bone with sickening ease.
Jiang Yun remained perfectly still.
He studied it.
Dark, rough skin—like stone.
A hunched form, long limbs, thick claws.
But its eyes.
White. Milky.
Blind.
Jiang Yun narrowed his gaze.
A blind beast?
No.
That meant it hunted in other ways.
By sound. By scent.
That meant—
He could not run.
He exhaled slowly.
His heartbeat slowed.
The beast's head lifted.
It sniffed the air.
Then—it turned toward him.
Jiang Yun did not move.
The beast was still across the clearing. Distance alone was not safety, but it was an advantage.
If it hunted by sound, he could use that.
If it hunted by scent, he was already marked.
The bodies at its feet still leaked fresh blood. The earth was soaked in it. If he moved now—if he took even a single step—it would know.
Jiang Yun's mind raced.
A cultivator would use Qi to mask their presence.
But Jiang Yun was not a cultivator.
He was a mortal.
But that also meant—his breathing, his heartbeat, his presence—were not like a cultivator's.
If this beast was accustomed to feeding on those with Qi—he was different.
It hesitated.
The beast sniffed again.
Jiang Yun clenched his grip on the spear.
Not yet.
Not yet.
He controlled his breath. His pulse slowed.
He became part of the stillness.
The beast exhaled heavily, its claws flexing against the earth.
Then—it turned away.
Jiang Yun's grip loosened slightly.
His gamble had worked.
The beast had not recognized him as prey.
Not yet.
But as he prepared to shift his position—
His foot brushed against a loose stone.
The small sound barely echoed—barely louder than the whisper of the wind.
But it was enough.
The beast snapped its head toward him.
Its body tensed.
And then—it charged.
Jiang Yun moved.
Fast.
The instant the beast lunged, he dodged left, rolling across the ground as its claws raked through the air where he had just been.
The earth shattered beneath its strike.
Jiang Yun didn't hesitate.
He grabbed the spear, planted his feet—
And thrust forward.
The spear struck true.
The steel tip **bit into the beast's side—**but did not pierce deep.
Its skin—thick. Too thick.
The beast roared.
A claw lashed out—Jiang Yun barely ducked in time.
The force of the blow sent a shockwave through the air, dust rising from the impact.
Jiang Yun's mind raced.
His weapon was useless.
His attacks lacked strength.
This was not a fight he could win by force.
Then—how?
He stepped back, adjusting his grip on the spear.
The beast snarled, lowering itself to all fours.
It was learning.
The first attack had been reckless. But now—it was adapting.
Jiang Yun gritted his teeth.
Then so would he.
He shifted his stance.
If direct attacks were useless—then he would not fight directly.
He slowed his breathing, watching.
The beast's claws twitched.
It lunged again—faster, more precise.
Jiang Yun **stepped back—**not to dodge, but to guide its attack.
The beast's claw missed by inches—but Jiang Yun was already moving.
He pivoted, using its momentum against it.
The beast's body twisted—just slightly. Just enough.
And Jiang Yun struck.
The spear did not aim for flesh.
It aimed for the eye.
The steel tip pierced deep.
The beast shrieked.
Jiang Yun tore the spear free as blood sprayed outward.
The beast staggered, its movements erratic.
It was still alive.
Still dangerous.
But now—it was no longer the hunter.
Jiang Yun raised his spear.
And charged.
___
Did you know?
The Blood Mist Territory is not just a graveyard—it's a cursed land where fallen cultivators' Qi lingers, attracting monstrous beings that feast on the remains of the strong. The creatures that roam here, like the blind beast Jiang Yun faces, have evolved to hunt cultivators by sensing their Qi rather than sight. Jiang Yun's survival instinct and lack of Qi cultivation actually saved him—the beast didn't immediately recognize him as prey. However, a single misstep turned the tide, forcing him into a deadly battle where only wit and precision could prevail.
In this place, strength alone is not enough—those who cannot adapt will perish.