I woke up to the sound of rustling leaves and distant bird cries. The soft hum of spiritual energy in the air told me the world had changed, or perhaps it was me who had changed. My body felt… heavier, not in the physical sense, but as though it held more than it did yesterday. More power. More weight. More purpose.
After devouring the demon prince's cultivation last night, I had hoped for a dramatic leap forward in strength. But instead, I only managed to reach First Claw 3 Realm.
Disappointment bit at me, but I understood why. The prince had been in a weak state when I consumed him—his core fractured, his bloodline mixed with impurities, and his spirit destabilized. I didn't just devour his power; I devoured his flaws. His once-proud cultivation had been cracked, and that damaged foundation had carried over to me. Though I had gained some of his knowledge and bloodline traits, the chaotic energy within me made further advancement dangerous.
The First Claw Realm was only the beginning in the vast hierarchy of cultivation. It marked the first transformation of the body and soul. From there, cultivators progressed through Second Claw, Third Claw, and Fourth Claw, each stage refining the body further. After that came Heart Reborn, where one's spiritual will and soul began to ascend, followed by Void, where laws and universal energies could be manipulated. The rare elite could reach Void King, and legends spoke of Void Emperors, beings that reigned like gods.
I was still just at the start. A baby dragon in a world filled with ancient predators.
I needed to stabilize my foundation before I could think about moving forward. The Devouring Dragon Art was an unruly beast in itself—it gave great power, but also fed chaos into my core. I needed solitude. Somewhere to train and refine the mixture of energies inside me.
Flying through the forest with my still-new wings, I found a quiet valley nestled between two hills. A small, clear river wound through it, and the spiritual energy in the area was dense enough to support cultivation. The flora here thrived, and from the signs—no broken trees or claw marks—I assumed the valley was mostly undisturbed by larger beasts. I landed near the water's edge, the wind still rippling through my wings as I folded them back.
Over the next day, I set up a simple camp with items from the storage ring. A spiritual ward barrier would keep out weaker creatures, and I laid down a few basic defensive arrays I had inherited from the demon prince's memories. Then, I focused inward.
Each meditation session was a trial. The chaotic mix of demonic qi, Void Dragon bloodline, and my own original energy clashed inside me. The pain was like being slowly crushed and pulled apart at the same time, but I endured. Every hour of refinement gave me a little more control. A little more stability.
On the fourth day, just as the morning fog began to lift, I sensed something. A ripple in the spiritual energy. Something alive. Something moving.
I opened my eyes, immediately alert. The sensation wasn't strong, but it was sharp and hungry. I stood and silently moved toward the perimeter of the valley, where the trees were dense and the shadows deep.
Then I saw it.
A wolf. But not an ordinary one.
It stood about as tall as my waist, its dark grey fur matted in places, but its muscles were lean and strong. Its eyes glowed faintly red, and its claws left shallow gouges in the ground with each step. It was a demon beast, no doubt—but its aura was weak. It was just barely stepping into the First Claw Realm.
It wasn't a major threat. Not to someone with my strength. But it was dangerous enough that if I was careless—or if I let the chaotic energy within me distract me—it could injure or even kill me.
The wolf sniffed the air, hackles rising as it caught my scent. It lowered its body into a hunting posture, teeth bared. No words. No intelligent speech. It was a beast acting purely on instinct.
Good.
I preferred this. No taunting. No prideful declarations. Just survival.
It lunged, swift and silent, aiming for my throat. I dodged to the side, barely flapping my wings, and retaliated with a sweep of my claws. The beast yelped as I grazed its side, but it recovered quickly and circled me, looking for another opening.
Despite its relatively low level, the wolf was nimble and fierce. And I was still unstable.
The battle turned into a dance of death around the valley's edge. My wings gave me brief advantages in speed and agility, but I had to be careful not to overuse them—each burst of qi usage stirred the unstable energies inside me. The wolf used its surroundings smartly, ducking into bushes and weaving between rocks to avoid direct hits.
But eventually, it made a mistake. It lunged again, and this time I stepped forward instead of back, slamming my knee into its ribs and flipping it onto the ground. Before it could recover, I sank my hand into its chest and activated the Devouring Dragon Art.
The energy that flowed from the wolf into me was faint but clean. No impurities, no shattered bloodline. Just pure, wild First Claw qi. It soothed the chaotic flow within me like water on fire. My unstable core calmed, and the disorder faded just slightly. Not much—but enough that I noticed the difference.
When the wolf's energy had been completely drained, its body turned to ash, leaving only a cracked beast core in my hand. I examined it briefly, then stored it.
This was the path forward. Carefully. Slowly. Cleanly. No rushing into devouring powerful cultivators or beasts unless their energy was pure. It was better to take small steps than risk losing myself to madness.
As I sat down to meditate again, my thoughts drifted.
I was a being caught between bloodlines. I held the remnants of a Void Emperor, and yet I crawled in the dirt like a fledgling. My original form had died—human, perhaps, though I wasn't even sure anymore. What mattered was the now.
And right now, I needed to master the chaos inside me.