The forest air was thick with moisture, still heavy with the scent of blood from the leopard hunt the day before. Xue Mo stood at the edge of the jungle, his dull iron sword strapped across his back, his black eyes surveying the terrain like a hunter returning to familiar grounds.
But this time, he wasn't just here to hunt.
He was here to feed.
The Blood Deity Art had tasted blood—and now, it stirred restlessly within him.
His limbs, though still lean and unrefined, no longer trembled with every movement. After yesterday's breakthrough, his body had begun adapting to the cultivation technique.
He stepped deeper into the jungle. This time, he wasn't hunting out of desperation.
He was cultivating.
...
The jungle pressed in around him like a breathing beast. Shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy in narrow blades, casting shifting patterns across the mossy floor. Thick vines looped from gnarled trees like hanging serpents, and the damp air carried the rich scent of earth, decay, and hidden life.
Every footfall was measured. Every breath was drawn with quiet awareness.
A distant howl echoed, followed by the sudden flight of birds. Xue Mo paused, eyes narrowing. Something large was moving through the undergrowth, not far.
He crouched near a muddy stream, inspecting claw marks etched deep into the bank. Thick, uneven. Fresh.
"Fresh," he murmured. "Something big."
A snapped branch caught his eye. Nearby leaves were smeared with a dark red streak.
Minutes passed as he tracked the trail—scattered fur, upturned soil, gouged tree bark. He moved like an assassin, silent and unseen.
Then he saw it.
A Bloodfang Boar, nearly two meters tall at the shoulder, stood by a moss-covered boulder. It pawed at the ground and snorted, tusks glinting like polished ivory in the filtered light. Its thick hide was dark brown with irregular crimson streaks, its blood affinity manifesting as an aura of faint hostility that prickled across the skin.
A middle-grade beast. Too strong for the former Lin Feng.
But not for Xue Mo.
He circled silently, shifting downwind. The Blood Deity Art pulsed faintly inside his chest, a low hunger building.
Xue Mo's eyes narrowed, this was not a problem now but it could be later.
The boar stiffened, sensing something, but it was too late.
He burst from the foliage in a blur. His iron blade arced down, aiming for the joint just behind the beast's shoulder. The boar squealed in fury, spinning and charging with surprising speed. Its tusks tore through the underbrush like living blades.
Xue Mo darted aside. A tusk grazed his waist, pain flared, hot and sharp. Blood bloomed beneath his robes, but his expression didn't change.
"Predictable, but still dangerous when enraged."
He twisted and slashed again, narrowly missing the creature's left eye. The boar bellowed and reared, raking its hooves at him.
"Too shallow. I misjudged its neck tilt
Xue Mo ducked low, kicking off a tree trunk to flip behind it.
The beast charged blindly.
Xue Mo baited it toward a fallen log, then suddenly vanished from sight. As the boar lunged forward, he emerged beneath its side in a crouch and drove the sword upward into its ribcage.
CRACK!
The blade hit bone, and the beast howled in rage and pain. Xue Mo was flung aside from the impact but rolled smoothly, regaining his footing as the boar staggered, wounded but not yet dead.
Blood streamed freely from its side, pooling on the forest floor.
Xue Mo's eyes gleamed.
He advanced.
One strike across the exposed throat. Another, deeper. The boar's gurgled scream echoed across the trees, then faded to silence.
...
He stood over the dying creature, his body aching, arms trembling slightly.
Then he felt it—the Blood Deity Art awakening.
A low hum echoed in his ears. The blood that spilled around him began to pulse. Threads of red mist rose from the ground and flowed toward him like tendrils seeking their master.
Xue Mo closed his eyes and sat cross-legged beside the corpse.
He guided the energy carefully, channeling it through his meridians, it surged through his Chongmai, the Sea of Qi and Blood, raging like a river unbound. This wasn't like normal Qi, refined and controlled. This was primal, untamed.
He could feel the energy thread itself through his Shenmai—the Kidney Meridian—rooting deep into his marrow and bones, enhancing vitality at the cost of temporary instability.
He felt a burning sensation on his chest, and when he opened his robe, a faint blood-red symbol had formed just above his heart.
The first mark of the Blood Deity Art.
Blood Vein Resonance — a passive ability that enhanced Qi absorption and accelerated physical healing when surrounded by blood.
Xue Mo's breath steadied. The pain was gone. The shallow wounds from the fight had already begun to close. His limbs felt lighter. Power hummed beneath his skin.
To keep the surging blood Qi from destabilizing his foundation, he routed the excess into the Pimmai, the Spleen Meridian, quieting the turbulence with practiced precision
The blood Qi circled one final time through the Renmai, coursing upward along his front, and down through the Dumai along his spine, completing the revolution.
He stood slowly.
It had already reached this level, and this was only the beginning.
He cleaned the sword and prepared to return to the sect, but as he turned, a flicker of movement in the trees caught his eye.
Someone was watching.
Xue Mo's expression remained unreadable until, just for a moment, his lips curled upward in a faint smile, not of joy, but cold calculation.
And then, in the space of a breath, something leaked from his presence—just a flicker. The faintest ripple of killing intent. The kind born from pure instinct.
Even the air around him grew cold for a heartbeat. But the moment passed. The intent vanished. Xue Mo's face returned to blank calm as though it had never happened.
He didn't pursue the presence.
Instead, he crouched beside the Bloodfang Boar's corpse again, running two fingers through the thick pool of blood congealing near the throat. His expression remained unreadable, but his movements were deliberate, too precise for a man merely cleaning his hands.
He stood, scanned the clearing once more, and casually strolled toward a moss-covered tree trunk. His palm brushed against it briefly just a moment, as though steadying himself.
A fragment of blood clung to the bark when he stepped away.
Seconds later, a faint pulse—imperceptible to the average cultivator, rippled through the ground, then vanished.
He adjusted his sword, turned, and began his walk back to the sect.
...
Minutes passed.
The wind shifted.
Branches overhead swayed gently, disturbed not by wind but someone.
A figure emerged at the tree line.
Wrapped in dark brown outer sect robes, they stepped into the clearing cautiously, eyes darting to the fallen boar. They lingered near the stone where Xue Mo had first knelt. The air was still warm with Qi.
The figure frowned, stepping closer.
Their feet landed on damp soil beside the tree trunk. Blood pooled slightly beneath it, almost unnoticeable.
They paused, eyes narrowing.
The air felt… off.
Just for a moment.
Then the sensation vanished.
...
Later, far from the forest, Xue Mo sat cross-legged in his cave, eyes closed, face calm.
He exhaled slowly. His breathing paused.
Then, his eyes snapped open.
The faintest curve of a smirk tugged at his lips.
"So... someone had come. And now, he had their scent."