The small leather pouch, heavy with the dull gleam of Spirit Stones, became Mo Li's most prized possession. Each stone pulsed with a refined Essence far purer than the ambient energy in the air, a direct conduit to power he had only dreamed of. The partnership with Han Ling, though simple in its terms – supplying Sunpetal Blooms for a regular exchange of these precious stones – was nothing short of a miracle. It was the first steady ground the Mo Clan had felt beneath their feet in generations.
For the next two years, the rhythm of their lives intensified. Mo Li dedicated himself with a renewed, almost desperate, fervor. Every dawn saw him practicing his breathing techniques, meticulously absorbing the Essence from the Spirit Stones. He didn't just cultivate; he forged himself, pushing past the pain, past the fatigue, knowing that every increment of strength was a step closer to securing his children's future. His goal was clear: not just to consolidate his Body Refinement 6th Stage, but to break through to Body Building 1st Stage before the quadruplets turned eleven. He needed that power, that physical fortitude, to face the beasts that held their fate in their very blood.
The Beast Forest became his second home, a brutal training ground where every rustle of leaves could signify danger, and every distant roar was a reminder of the escalating threats. He meticulously scouted, learning the paths of lesser Martial Beasts, identifying areas where the more potent ones might lair. His hunts for Martial Beasts – the naturally occurring creatures with the subtle, awakening-grade Essence in their blood – were calculated risks. He couldn't afford to waste a single drop of Essence, nor a moment of his precious time.
He often clashed with Body Refinement 8th or even 9th Stage Beasts. These weren't easy victories. More often than not, he found himself locked in desperate struggles, relying on the raw power of his Fire Essence to scorch through tough hides and burning away wood-type defenses. Sometimes, he'd emerge victorious, leaving a smoking carcass behind, his body aching, muscles screaming, but a grim satisfaction settling in his heart. These triumphs, hard-won and perilous, pushed his limits, refining his control, and accelerating his cultivation. The Spirit Stones fueled his recovery, allowing him to push harder, faster.
But there were also days when the forest proved too formidable. Days when a beast's roar was too close, its aura too oppressive, forcing Mo Li to retreat, limping back to their shelter, nursing painful wounds and the bitter taste of failure. He learned to differentiate between a fight he could win and one that was sheer suicide. Each failed hunt, each setback, was a setback for his children, tightening the knot of anxiety in his chest. He would tend to his injuries, gritting his teeth, and push himself even harder the next day. The clock was ticking.
Back at the crude shelter, the quadruplets, now taller, their features slowly sharpening from childhood innocence, absorbed their father's lessons like thirsty sponges. Mo Li would spend evenings under the dim light of their fire, the children huddled close, his voice a low, steady murmur. He spoke of Essence, how it permeated the world, how it was gathered and refined. He described the Spiritual Sea, the ethereal core within each being where their nascent Martial Soul would reside. He explained the profound impact a Martial Soul had – dictating their path, their strengths, their very abilities.
"When you awaken your Martial Soul," he'd say, his eyes burning with a fervent hope, "it will define you. It will determine what arts you can learn, how fast you can cultivate. It is your gift, your inherent power." He drilled into them the importance of mental fortitude during the awakening ritual, emphasizing that while the ritual didn't fail, their inner resolve could influence the purity and potential of the Martial Soul born.
The children listened with varying degrees of focus, their distinct personalities shining through.
Mo Feng, ever the pragmatic one, would ask precise questions about the mechanics of Essence circulation, the different types of Martial Souls, and the dangers of cultivation deviation. He'd spend hours mimicking his father's basic breathing techniques, his small frame rigid with concentration, determined to master every fundamental.
Mo Lei, restless as ever, often interrupted with eager questions about the most powerful Martial Souls, the most destructive techniques, and how quickly one could become strong enough to challenge the powerful cultivators in the distant city. He'd shadow-box, his small fists mimicking thunderous blows, his imagination already soaring with visions of overwhelming power.
Mo Yue, quiet and observant, would listen intently to her father's words, often catching the subtle nuances, the unspoken anxieties in his voice. She'd ask about the spiritual aspect, the connection to nature, the balance of power. Sometimes, she'd draw intricate diagrams in the dirt, seemingly just doodles, but Mo Li suspected they held a deeper, intuitive understanding of the Essence flows he described.
And Mo Xuan, ever the enigma, sometimes seemed to be in another world during the lectures, his gaze distant. But then, he'd suddenly interject with a remarkably insightful question about the mystery of Martial Beasts, or the ultimate purpose of cultivation, questions that occasionally made Mo Li pause, genuinely considering the profundity of the child's thought.
Their lives, though still marked by hardship, gained a new purpose. The fear of the future was slowly being replaced by anticipation, fueled by their father's unwavering conviction.
As the first year of preparation drew to a close, the air grew thick with a familiar, ominous tremor. The yearly beast surge was approaching. Mo Li knew it. The very ground seemed to vibrate with the distant, growing cacophony of snarls and thundering hooves from deep within the Beast Forest.
This time, their preparations were different. The Spirit Stones, carefully managed, had allowed Mo Li to fortify their shelter. He had reinforced the canvas with salvaged wood and tough hides, creating a more robust, if still humble, refuge. He instructed his children on the emergency protocols, where to hide, how to remain absolutely silent, and how to stay together.
The night the surge broke upon the outskirts of Pinecreek Town was a maelstrom of primal chaos. The very air vibrated with the guttural roars of thousands of beasts, their desperate cries echoing across the plains. Shadowy forms, some towering, some swift blurs, crashed through the scrubland surrounding their shelter. The ground shuddered with the impact of their stampeding hooves and paws.
From their reinforced haven, the Mo Clan witnessed the raw power of the world. Through cracks in the hide coverings, the quadruplets peered out, their faces pale with a mixture of terror and awe. They saw not just the smaller, rabid beasts but also glimpses of larger, more powerful creatures—Body Building level beasts, their eyes glowing malevolently, pushing through the desperate hordes. The distant clang of steel against claw, the occasional flash of cultivated Essence lighting up the night sky from the city walls, served as a stark reminder of the cultivators who stood guard.
Mo Li stood silently at the entrance, his hand on his knife, his Fire Essence subtly circulating, ready to defend his children to his last breath. He made no move to join the city's defense, nor to exploit the chaos for a risky hunt. His place was here, protecting his legacy. He had seen too many desperate fools fall attempting to claim glory during a surge. His children were too important.
Mo Lei, ever impulsive, had to be held back by Mo Feng when a particularly large, scarred boar beast (likely Body Refinement 7th Stage) crashed through a nearby thicket, its eyes wild, before being swiftly dispatched by a flash of light from the distant city walls. Mo Yue whimpered softly, clutching her siblings, while Mo Xuan watched with a quiet, almost detached fascination, his eyes wide as if seeing patterns in the chaotic carnage.
The surge lasted through the night, a symphony of destruction and desperate survival. By dawn, the cacophony began to subside, replaced by the eerie silence of a landscape churned to mud and littered with carcasses. The city guards had held, but the outskirts were ravaged. Mo Li emerged, his senses on high alert, his gaze sweeping the devastated landscape. His family was safe. That was all that mattered.
The second year of preparation began. The yearly beast surge had been survived, but it was a stark reminder of the limited time. Mo Li's cultivation continued its arduous climb. He finally felt the familiar push, the internal pressure, and with a focused burst of Spirit Stone-fueled effort, he broke through to Body Building 1st Stage. The surge of power was immense, a profound transformation from the physical limits of Body Refinement. His body felt lighter, stronger, his Essence purer and more expansive. He could feel the vibrant hum of concentrated power within him, a stark contrast to his desperate self just two years prior.
This breakthrough made his hunts significantly less perilous. He could now confidently engage Body Refinement 8th-9th Stage Martial Beasts with a greater chance of success, even the occasional Body Building 1st Stage beast if he used cunning and his elemental advantage. He carefully selected his targets, seeking out the specific Martial Beasts whose subtle Essence was most suitable for awakening. One by one, he managed to acquire three such beasts, carefully preserving their essence-saturated blood, storing it in specially prepared containers.
His consistent supply of Sunpetal Blooms also began to solidify his reputation with the Han Clan's son. Han Ling subtly increased the frequency of their exchanges, and the trickle of Spirit Stones became a more consistent flow.
This newfound, albeit small, prosperity wasn't entirely unnoticed. Other small, struggling cultivators on the outskirts of Pinecreek Town, always eking out a living, began to cast curious, sometimes envious, glances towards the Mo Clan's improved shelter and the father's increasing strength. Whispers circulated – of a lucky break, of a sudden windfall. Mo Li kept his head down, ever cautious, aware that success, even minor, could breed unwanted attention.
With the quadruplets now ten, then eleven, the tension in the Mo Clan's shelter was almost palpable. Three Martial Beasts secured. One more needed. And the deadline loomed, a shadow both exciting and terrifying. The children, their minds primed by their father's lessons, their spirits honed by witnessing the beast surges, were ready. Mo Li, Body Building 1st Stage and a veteran of countless desperate hunts, was ready. The forge had been hot, and the hope was now hardened steel.