Blood River tucked the severed head into a burlap sack before he finished draining the corpse of its blood vitality. Performing the tasks in this order was something he had decided on before his first kill since the process of draining had very noticeable effects on the flesh. It wouldn't do to have to explain to the bounty office why the heads were desiccated like mummies.

This head was now the fourth such trophy he had collected in the two days since he had left Aureate Hill. Each belonged to an initial Meridian Circulation cultivator. Living his first 18 years in a clan where a single such expert deterred all forces outside of the Dragon's Den, it surprised him to find so many that lived the lives of rogue cultivators.

None of them had been particularly challenging to defeat. With Mister Black's aid, he was able to locate them with ease from the provided clues to their whereabouts. With his own abilities in speed and stealth, he had the advantage in initiating the fights and avoiding harm.

Each of these experts lacked a full system of techniques like River had. Mister Black attributed this deficiency to their status as rogue cultivators; piling on resources to make breakthroughs, particularly before Foundation Building, which didn't need a lot of knowledge to do. The few techniques he had discovered on the corpses were all rubbish in his ghostly mentor's opinion.

River searched the belongings of the target, pocketing some valuable-looking items and currency before hurling the decapitated mummy into the cave where it had lived during its life. The pickings were rather slim with these rogue cultivators, but this wasn't why he was doing this in the first place.

Leaving the cave, he set foot to earth and sprung forth into the grasslands. After the second of his targets he had successfully broken through to the second-grade Earth Realm in his physique tempering, and he could feel the benefits of that breakthrough as he sped over the tall grasses. If the first-grade Earth Realm made him an eighth of his body weight lighter than before, now he felt a full quarter of his weight lighter, a benefit of twice as much as before.

This feeling of a reduction in weight, coupled with an increase in his strength and agility, made River feel almost as though he could fly over the grasslands. He knew the reality of the situation, of course -- true flight for a physique tempering expert only came beyond the peak of the Earth Realm, when one entered the Heaven Realm -- but he was nonetheless exhilarated.

Heading east through the grasslands under the noontime sun's vigilant eye, River considered his next move. He had already completed the highest-level missions that the Aureate Hill bounty board could offer, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to find better targets elsewhere either at this point. He voiced this concern to his ghostly mentor.

"That's a good question," the old man responded. "I think you should consider a course of action yourself, my young friend. I'm happy to offer advice and assistance as I can, but you need to forge your own path. This old man won't be here forever, you know."

That brought up a subject that River hadn't contemplated much since he first encountered his spectral companion. "You aren't thinking of abandoning me now, are you Mister Black?" He asked this in a jocular tone, masking a small lump of unease that knotted in his stomach as he did so.

Mister Black chuckled. "Don't worry, young man; it won't be very soon. You're going to have to get strong enough to help me construct a new body, after all, and that's quite a ways away still."

River nodded. Another unvoiced thought occurred to him at the same time, though: why wait to construct a new body when you could grab an already functional one?

"Well then," River continued, "I'm going to turn in these bounties, check what's new on the board, and then take a night at an inn. I've been on the move since I left Flowing Water and it would be nice to have some sleep in a bed for once."

"As you will, my young friend, as you will," Mister Black agreed.

River sped along in the grasslands for another couple of hours until he caught sight of the name hill of Aureate Hill. Approaching from the west side of the town this time, he noticed that the sandy-colored mound was far more visible. It didn't quite live up to its golden reputation, but as landmarks went it did the job, he surmised.

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As he stepped foot on the road and made his way towards the gate, he retrieved the four bloody burlap packages from his storage pouch and secured them on his belt. There was no point in being conspicuous with the pouch in public, as such a luxurious item would be out of the league of a novice bounty hunter like him unless he had some kind of backing.

River drew up his hood as he approached the gate, repeating the ritual with the gate guard that he had before: a couple of silver coins handed over and no questions asked. He made his way through the town's packed dirt streets until he arrived at the bounty office. Walking up to the board, he located the four bounties he had completed and yanked their wooden slips off the board, taking them into the office with him.

The official manning the desk inside was a young woman with blonde hair done up in a bun. Besides her mannish vest and breeches, the most notable accessories on her were a leather-bound book at her waist and the small pair of spectacles that rested on her nose in front of her clear blue eyes.

"Can I help you, sir?" the woman asked as he approached the desk.

"Uh, yeah..." River responded a little awkwardly. "Where's a good place for these?" He grabbed a head from his belt and held it up.

"Ah, right there on the desk will do," the woman replied, smiling without missing a beat as she pointed at the empty space to her side. Just as one could expect from someone who saw this sort of thing every day. "I'll need to know which bounties these are for, too."

River deposited the heads on the desk before also plonking down the bounty slips with a clatter.

The woman blinked and smiled. "Well, that's one way to do it." She sifted through the slips and then opened each sack in turn, matching the slips with the heads. Then she turned and pored through the shelves behind her, picking out four specific sacks of coin, which she turned and dumped on the desk. "That'll do it for these four, Mister--?"

"River," River replied.

"Mister River." The woman smiled and gave a small nod, committing the name to memory. "Well then, the town of Aureate Hill thanks you for your contribution, Mister River. Happy hunting!"

River nodded and grabbed the four sacks of coin, not even bothering to count them as he hefted them onto his belt where the heads had been before. Without another word, he turned and left the office, returning to the bounty board to take a look.

Most of the bounties hadn't changed in the past two days, and River was about to give up on looking when he noticed a pair of new bounties nailed to the board side by side. They had the signature mark of the Dragon's Den on them. The two bounties were more vaguely described than most of the others, but they were instantly familiar to River, given he was one of them.

The two bounty slips were titled "The Ghost of Flowing Water" and "The Devil of Flowing Water" respectively. The information on the Ghost seemed a fair amount more complete, including a physical description and noting his cultivation at the initial Meridian Circulation stage. The Ghost had come to attention because he had assaulted a couple of the bandit-held outposts following the razing of Flowing Water.

If he wasn't mistaken, River guessed that the Ghost could be none other than Flowing Water's reclusive clan chief, who had avoided extermination since he had been in remote seclusion at the time of the clan's destruction. He sneered at the twist of fate that allowed the person most responsible for the rot at the clan's core having escaped the Dragon's Den. That the man had struck back at the bandits did little to elevate the young man's impression of him.

The Devil of Flowing Water was, of course, River himself, but with only vague information. They listed that he was an expert who cultivated a devilish art that drained the blood of its victims -- quite true, that -- but otherwise there was only speculation about his nature, without a clue to his current whereabouts.

Pondering the two slips, River reached out and caressed the carved letters as he considered his next course of action. Tomorrow, after he had a good night's rest, he would set out and go hunting for a ghost, it seemed. He smiled and removed his hand, turning and leaving the bounty board and making his way to the town's inn.

The interior of the inn was as well maintained as that of the tavern he had visited prior. River decided to treat himself and reserved a luxury suite for an overnight stay, directing that he would like his meals taken in his room. Wearing the hooded cloak was stifling and annoying, and he wanted some time to relax in town without it on.

Receiving his key, he made his way up the stairwell and to his room. The chamber was spacious and well-lit with high glass windows; the centerpiece of the bedroom was a well-furnished four-poster bed. River changed into some more comfortable and loose-fitting clothing and began to meditate on the floor in front of that bed.

It was around sunset when he was pulled out of his trance by a knock at the door. River admitted to himself that he was rather hungry as he stood, not bothering to cover himself back up as he went to answer the door. Who cared what a servant from an inn saw?

Opening the door, he received an unexpected surprise. It was the woman from the bounty office, still dressed in men's garb but now holding that leather-bound book in her hand. She gave a low whistle as she thrust her arm through the threshold and planted a hand on the wall.

"Hey there, Mister River," she greeted him with a smile. "Or, should I say, Mister Devil of Flowing Water?"