The earth bear, its beady eyes blazing with fury that belied its deceptively cute appearance, blurred into motion.
Its speed was shocking, its small form a deceptive cloak for the raw power of a peak Body Refining cultivator.
Tian Hao's eyes widened, shock freezing him for a split second as the creature's speed outstripped his expectations. He stumbled back just in time, barely avoiding a swipe that would have torn him apart.
Lin Mei reacted a moment later, her glaive flashing, a silver arc intercepting the beast’s charge, the force of the blow echoing through the forest.
She moved with fluid precision. Her glaive was a shimmering extension of her will, her strikes like moonlight on a restless sea, a blur of silver. Each parry, each thrust, a calculated move to defend herself, to wound, to kill. Her earlier weariness was gone, replaced by the cold focus of a warrior, her every movement a testament to her years of disciplined training.
Tian Hao, heart pounding, fumbled for his flask, the cold jade a welcome comfort against his palm. Wine sloshed down his throat, burning a path to his core, igniting the familiar chaotic energy of Wine-Fueled Fury. He grinned, the reckless confidence of the wine washing away his fear as he moved into the fray, his own movements now mirroring the chaotic shifts of the forest itself.
The battle raged, a dance of claw and blade, fist and fur. Lin Mei’s glaive flashed, deflecting the earth bear’s furious swipes, her agility keeping her just out of reach of its snapping jaws. Tian Hao, fueled by the wine, darted in and out, his strikes unpredictable, targeting the beast’s blind spots, each blow a jarring thud against its thick hide.
Blood wept from their wounds, painting the earth in sorrowful crimson, staining Tian Hao’s robes and Lin Mei’s glaive. A deep gash on Tian Hao’s arm, the pain a sharp, stinging reminder of his own vulnerability. “Great,” he muttered, wincing, “just what I needed, more blood. Last time I bled like this, I ended up with a spoiled fox on my shoulder.”
Lin Mei, her own arm bleeding freely from a glancing blow, gritted her teeth, her glaive spinning faster, her strikes more forceful now, her movements fueled by a fierce protectiveness—and a growing anger. She saw an opening, lunged, and with a guttural yell, her glaive connected with the beast’s flank, the silver blade slicing into its flesh with a sickening crunch, a torrent of blood spraying into the air, turning the earth crimson.
The earth bear roared in pain, its movements faltering, its attacks now less precise as it stumbled back, its strength waning, its body giving way, each fresh wound chipping away at its failing strength. Tian Hao seized the opportunity. He darted forward, fist clenched, and with a guttural cry, struck the earth bear’s jaw, the force of the blow enough to break bone.
The bear's movements faltered as it groaned one last time, and with a final, desperate lunge by Lin Mei, the battle reached its gruesome end.
Her glaive found its mark, plunging deep into the earth bear’s throat with a sickening, ripping sound, the silver blade tearing through flesh and bone. A spray of blood shot into the air, staining the forest floor crimson, the stench of gore heavy and thick, filling the air like a shroud.
Tian Hao stood there, panting, his chest heaving, his gaze fixed on the now lifeless beast. Its form, once so menacing, now seemed… small, vulnerable, the remaining fluff clinging to its mangled corpse a grim reminder of its lost power.
“Life and death hang by a thread, like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, a shadow1,” Tian Hao murmured, shaking his head, the phrase masking a his exhaustion. He felt a pang of sadness—this beast had been a guardian of sorts, and now it was gone, its purpose ended by their own ambition.
“Such a shame to have to kill something so small, yet so fierce. Perhaps I’d rather duel with my fellow cultivators. At least they’re making choices rather than simply following the path of instinct, of what the Heavens themselves have crafted into their very existence, making their intentions, even their attacks far more honest.” He looked towards Lin Mei, whose shoulders still tensed, her own blood flowing freely, the scent mixing with the earth bear’s, and for a moment, their shared violence forged a new bond between them.
“Come on, Mei Mei,” he said, his voice softer now. “Let’s find that exit, and that formation, before this forest decides to send something even less friendly.”
They bandaged their wounds and continued onward, though their steps were now heavier somehow, more weary. The once playful energy of their earlier exploration had been replaced by a grim determination, the shadows of the forest seeming deeper, the air itself more menacing, as though some part of the forest itself mourned the earth bear’s death.
After what seemed like hours of walking, they came to a clearing. In the center stood a massive stone statue, its features weathered and worn, its gaze fixed on a point beyond the trees, like an ancient sentinel holding vigil over secrets lost to time. Before it a heavy stone slab, etched with symbols that seemed to pulse with a faint, ethereal light. A sign, carved into the stone bore an inscription:
Move Aside to Enter
Tian Hao and Lin Mei exchanged glances. They approached the statue, their hands finding purchase on its rough surface. They pushed, their combined strength straining against the unyielding stone, but it wouldn’t budge. The statue seemed rooted to the earth, as if it had been part of the mountains themselves, placed by something beyond any power they might hope to summon in their current state.
“It’s… it’s not moving,” Tian Hao grunted, his muscles burning with exertion, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “What kind of test is this?”
Lin Mei, her face flushed with effort, stepped back, her glaive clinking softly against the stone. “There has to be a way,” she muttered.
“This is ridiculous!” Tian Hao exclaimed, his frustration boiling over. “It’s just a statue! Why won’t it budge?!”
Lin Mei, her own patience wearing thin, leaned against the unyielding stone, wiping sweat from her brow.
“There must be a trick,” she muttered, her gaze sweeping over the statue, searching for some hidden mechanism, some clue that might reveal its secrets. “But there are no markings here, not even formation runes beneath it,” she muttered, “nothing indicating some way of shifting or altering its hold. Just… stillness.”
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Tian Hao, his efforts futile, slumped against the statue and took a long sip from his flask, defeated. "I give up," he muttered.
Tian Hao closed his eyes, fingers tracing his spatial ring as he muttered for divine help. “Big Sister System, a little help here would be appreciated. I’m stuck in this stupid forest, with a statue that seems to be laughing at me, my arms and shoulders are killing me, I’ve got blisters in places that shouldn’t even have blisters, I’m almost out of wine, and I swear my robes are starting to more resemble scraps than silks!”
He paused, then added with a hint of desperation. “I promise to be less reckless! I swear! No more hidden markets, no more antagonizing other sects. Just… get me out of here, and I’ll be the best little disciple you’ve ever seen.”
Big Sister System’s voice echoed in his mind, amusement lacing her every word. “Oh, really, Little Hao? Less reckless? That’s a good one. And you think I’d fall for that… again?” She let her laughter, soft and melodic yet still tinged with mockery, fill the spaces between them.
“But I mean it this time!” Tian Hao pleaded, though he suspected she was correct, his promises as hollow as the deepest cave despite his growing frustration with his own shortcomings, with how little he understood of this world.
“Sure you do, little Hao. Just like you meant it when you promised not to cause any trouble at the Celestial Conclave…" She paused, then added with an edge to her tone, “Let’s just say you owe me a few… extra favors in the future.”
Tian Hao let out a theatrical groan. “Fine, fine, favors it is. Just… please Big Sister, help me out here.”
“Very well, little Hao, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. There are always… karmic ramifications for relying on external forces. Especially for someone like you, whose greatest talent seems to lie in causing chaos rather than cultivating inner strength. Still, I suppose a little nudge in the right direction—with a hefty interest rate, mind you—won’t hurt.”
A surge of energy pulsed through him, followed by a flash of insight, the knowledge settling within him like a drop of water in a still pond. Heavenly Feast Reinforcement, a technique that resonated with his own unique path, a way to amplify his physical abilities not through grueling training but through the simple act of… enjoying a good meal.
His spatial ring, seemingly always filled to the brim with feasts, now seemed less a sign of his lack of discipline, his hedonistic excesses now not just a mark of his privilege but a path towards power, as though the heavens themselves had taken pity on his bumbling, feasting, napping way through cultivation.
“Mei Mei,” he announced, opening his eyes and turning to Lin Mei. “I’ve had an epiphany! A culinary revelation! The heavens themselves have blessed me with enlightenment!”
Lin Mei gave him a skeptical look. “Enlightenment? You were just complaining about how heavy this thing was. What changed? A new appreciation for rocks?”
Tian Hao grinned, ignoring her sarcasm. “Just watch,” he said, pulling out a selection of delicacies from his spatial ring – roasted duck, glazed ribs, and a small jar of pickled ginger. He devoured the food quickly, savoring each bite as he felt the energy coursing through him, his muscles tingling with newfound strength. The Heavenly Feast Reinforcement technique was already at work.
With another deep inhale, his body now humming with the energy of Heavenly Feast Reinforcement, he pushed against the stone statue. The stone, previously unyielding, now shifted slightly, as if the very earth itself acknowledged his newfound strength.
Lin Mei reluctantly joined him, her own weariness replaced by Tian Hao's sudden, infectious surge of power.
They pushed together, his body now infused with the essence of the feast he’d just consumed. The stone slab groaned, then slowly, grudgingly, began to move. The stone grated against the ground, the sound echoing through the clearing as it slid aside, revealing the cave entrance and the jade token lying within.
Lin Mei looked at Tian Hao. “How… how did you do that?”
Tian Hao grinned, puffing out his chest proudly. “It’s a secret technique, Mei Mei. Passed down through generations of… pleasure based cultivators. I found it in the sect repository,” he added, winking at he.
She rolled her eyes, having lost count of how many times he'd used that excuse when he pulled out some odd technique or saying.
He gestured towards the passage. “After you, Mei Mei.”
The tunnel led to a small, dimly lit cave where a jade token rested on a small pedestal.
As they emerged from the cave, a figure stepped out from behind a nearby tree, their form tall and imposing, blocking their path, the posture radiating the tension of a simmering confrontation.
It was Feng Liang of the Steel Vine Sect. He wasn't alone. A young woman whose cold gaze and the steel vine insignia emblazoned on her robes stood beside him.
“Well, well, well,” Feng Liang sneered. “Look who it is. The Skyward Lotus Sect’s… dynamic duo.” He let out a mocking laugh. “I see you’re still relying on your little girlfriend to protect you, silkpants?”
He looked towards Lin Mei. “Are you going to let him speak for you as well? I can hardly imagine that a warrior like you would consort with someone like him. Are his silks that warm? Or is his family’s purse just full enough to soothe the humiliation of being his… plaything?”
Lin Mei’s expression hardened, her eyes narrowing as she placed herself in front of Tian Hao, her glaive gripped tightly in her hand, her earlier hesitation now replaced by the chilling focus of someone protecting not just themselves but the one behind them.
“Feng Liang,” she said, her voice low and menacing. “We are not here to fight. We're her for the challenge—as you should be attempting as well. Step aside.” She hoped her stern pronouncement would be enough to deter him, that it would remind him of the rules of the competition, but the way he smirked made the words feel like ashes in her mouth.
Feng Liang, however, sensing an opportunity to humiliate Tian Hao and the Skyward Lotus Sect, ignored her. The weight of his frustration and the simmering animosity from previous encounters made every word a matchstick waiting to ignite.
“Hiding behind a woman now, are we, Tian Hao?” He taunted, eyes gleaming with malicious glee. “Is that why I haven’t seen you in the real duels? Too afraid to face an actual opponent without your... protector?”
He shifted his gaze to Lin Mei, his grin turning lecherous. “Though, I’ll admit, you’ve got good taste. Perhaps after this is done, we could—”
Tian Hao's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a dangerous smile.
"Feng Liang, you speak of bravery, yet here you stand, spouting cheap insults like a coward who can’t fight his own battles without backup. You think hiding behind crude words makes you fierce? Please. You want to talk about consorting? At least Lin Mei stands beside me by choice. What about you? How does it feel to be so spineless you need someone else to hold your hand just to make you feel competent?"
Feng Liang opened his mouth, a retort forming, but Tian Hao cut him off before he could speak.
“My path may not be yours, Feng Liang,” he continue, the usual jesting tone gone from his voice, replaced by a quiet intensity. “But there’s no shame in walking it with… better company.”
He turned slightly, holding Lin Mei's gaze for a moment before turning back to Feng Liang, his eyes fixed on his rival with a look that was more than just playful taunting. His gaze boring into Feng Liang's. "You think you can humiliate me? Try harder. Your words are as empty as your courage, and your ambitions as hollow as your backbone. The only thing you're proving here is how pathetically desperate you are for attention."
Tian Hao's voice lowered to a menacing growl. "Now, either draw your sword and back up your big mouth, or step aside before you embarrass yourself even further."
Feng Liang’s face twisted in fury as he drew his sword, his voice barely a whisper. “I'll make you regret this, Tian Hao."
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1: Shēng sǐ yī xiàn, rú mèng huàn pào yǐng; 生死一线，如梦幻泡影