crimson shadows

As the first light of dawn crept over the village, John stirred from his slumber, his eyes still heavy with sleep. Barely awake, he shuffled out to the courtyard and picked up a broom from the nearby shed. With slow, practiced motions, he began sweeping the stone tiles, the sound of bristles brushing against stone filling the still morning air.

After his chores, John moved into his sword practice, the courtyard echoing with the swish of air as his blade sliced through it. For two hours, he repeated the forms of his technique, the Wandering Willow Style, each stroke more fluid than the last. Only when sweat soaked through his clothes did he pause to wash up—just in time for the village inns and food stalls to open.

Realizing the hour, John strolled leisurely toward the nearest inn. Eventually, he stopped in front of a two-story building with dark brown roof tiles, intricately carved into red ironwood—a material prized for its strength and longevity. Above the doorway hung a weathered wooden sign bearing the name Jade Lotus.

Seeing the door ajar, he pushed it open and stepped inside. A server, noticing his entrance, greeted him with a smile and led him to a table by the window, where the view of the village street was pleasant and serene.

As he browsed the menu, John couldn't help but frown slightly. The dishes were simple and lacked variety. With a sigh, he ordered a basic breakfast, his expectations quietly lowered. As the server left with his order, John turned his gaze toward the window, letting his mind wander.

It's already been a month and a half since I arrived in this world… he thought. And yet, I've barely explored the village. Almost all my time has gone into cultivation or wandering outside the village borders. I've missed… a lot.

Outside, children laughed and played along the road. Food stall owners shouted friendly banter while merchants opened shop for the day. The buzz of bees and the soft chirp of crickets filled the summer air. It was a simple, peaceful scene—yet alive with warmth.

Before long, the server returned with his meal. Still deep in thought, John took a bite—and winced. The food was bland, even more so than what he had roasted himself while out training. He sighed again, realizing that the villagers didn't have access to many of the spices he was familiar with.

Finishing his meal in silence, he paid and left the inn. Returning home, he grabbed his sword and a small bag of essentials, then made his way to the village gate.

There, Old Lee—an elder and former hunter—had just arrived for his shift.

"Hey, brat! What's with the gear? Off camping or something?" he called out with a half-smile.

John smirked slightly. "Just heading into the mountains to gather herbs," he replied.

Old Lee raised an eyebrow. As a veteran outdoorsman, he could see through the excuse. Still, he said nothing.

"If you're going to the mountains, at least know where you can and can't go," he muttered, pulling out a worn map from his robe. "It's outdated, but I've updated parts of it myself over the years. Should help you stay out of trouble."

He handed the map over, emphasizing the last words with a pointed look.

John accepted it without flinching, tucking the map into his sleeve. He cupped his hand in thanks, turned, and dashed off.

Old Lee watched his retreating figure with a faint grin. For all his arrogance, the kid had spirit—and in the past month and a half, he'd clearly grown stronger.

---

John made his way to the Black Horn Mountain and paused under the shade of a tree. Unfolding the map, he studied its markings. Only the outermost layer of the mountain was drawn, but danger zones were clearly marked in red—areas where Qi Condensation and Foundation Realm demon beasts were known to dwell. Water sources were noted too.

After orienting himself, John headed south toward a nearby stream. Where there's water, there are beasts—and herbs.

Halfway there, he paused to dig a few simple traps, camouflaging them with leaves and earth. The summer heat pressed down on him despite the shade of the forest. Sweat clung to his brow as he leaned against a tree, sipping the last of his water.

Once he'd cooled down, he resumed his journey. After roughly 1.6 kilometers, he reached the stream and, not far from it—about 150 meters away—he discovered an abandoned cave.

He immediately got to work. Clearing debris, he formed a firepit with a ring of stones, ensuring flames wouldn't spread. Then, with his knife, he cut leafy branches and soft bushes to build a makeshift bed inside the cave. Satisfied with the setup, he chopped firewood and stacked it near the entrance.

Looking at his small camp, John smiled with quiet pride.

With his sword in hand, he ventured out to scout the area. He examined the ground for droppings or claw marks, eventually coming upon a large paw print and bone fragments near a thicket.

A bear? he thought, crouching to inspect. The prints were fresh. Without hesitation, he began to track them.

The trail led him to a nearby river—and there, it stood.

A massive bear, its fur a deep crimson, loomed over the water. Its fangs gleamed like polished daggers.

The instant John saw the beast, its eyes locked onto him.

His heart thundered in his chest. Panic rose—but he took a deep breath, forcing calm into his limbs. Drawing on memories from his past life, he puffed up his chest and held his ground, making himself appear as large as possible.

This should work… he thought, sweat running down his neck.

But what John didn't know was that this was no ordinary beast—it was a Crimson Bear, a demon creature known for burning its blood qi to exponentially boost its power. And in doing so, it also became enraged... easily.

The bear let out a thunderous roar and charged.

"Shit!" John bolted, but the bear's eyes turned blood red, a mist of crimson qi pouring off its body. Its speed doubled in an instant, closing the gap fast.

Realizing escape was impossible, John spun around, sword drawn. He activated the Wandering Willow technique and felt a strange current flow through him—different from training. He pushed the thought aside.

The bear lunged. Its right paw lashed out like a hammer.

John was about to strike when that mysterious flow tugged at his senses again. Trusting his instincts, he dodged to the left.

Boom!

The paw smashed into the earth, sending cracks spidering out across the ground. John's eyes widened.

"Damn..."

Taking the chance, he slashed at the bear's left shoulder—but the blade clanged as if hitting metal, and he nearly lost his grip.

"What the hell is this thing!?" he cursed, jumping back.

The bear roared again and charged.

Through the Black Horn Mountain, man and beast clashed and danced—one bleeding, the other burning with fury.

But John had a plan.

He led the bear through the forest, gradually guiding it toward one of his traps. As the camouflaged pit came into view, John jumped.

The bear, hot on his heels, had no time to react.

CRASH!

ROAR!

The trap had worked. The beast howled in agony, its leg pierced and nearly torn apart by the spikes at the bottom.

John collapsed to one knee, panting. Just as he was about to catch his breath and tend to his wounds, something stirred in his soul.

For the first time—his karmic instinct triggered.

A powerful, primal fear flooded his senses.

Without hesitation, John activated his sword technique and leapt away from the trap.

Something worse was coming or so he thought.