There was a slight cool breeze, gentle and constant, threading its way through the canopy above and coaxing each tree to sway with its own rhythm. The sound of rustling leaves filled the air, a natural orchestra rising from the forest's breath. These tall, leafy sentinels formed a thick canopy above, their interlocked branches casting speckled shadows across the forest floor. Beneath that protective ceiling, life teemed, small animals skittered, birds chirped in sudden bursts, and insects danced in golden shafts of light. It was a place where predators and prey played their age old game.
The soil was firm but not dry, slightly springy underfoot, neither soft enough to sink in nor hard enough to make movement difficult. The humidity wasn't overwhelming, just enough to make your skin feel the air pressing in. It was the kind of heat that hung onto your back, clinging with each breath, but it didn't choke. Still, most people would've preferred to stay inside, away from the sun, away from the buzzing of mosquitoes and the promise of sweat soaked robes.
Especially the mortals, soft skinned looking folk who had neither the stamina nor the inclination to wander forests under the full weight of the summer sun. But one person was different.
Instead of meditating inside a cool shaded courtyard, fanning himself while circulating qi through the meridians, he had chosen to train under the sun's oppressive gaze. His form was lean, some might say skinny, and his frame didn't stand out. From a distance, he looked like someone you wouldn't glance at twice.
A bead of sweat crawled down the side of his cheek, following the jawline that was sharp in shape but softened by fatigue. His dark brown hair fell just below his ears, slightly damp and clinging in lazy curls. In the right light, his green eyes shimmered with a faint hue of pale blue, giving him a strange and elusive presence. His nose was tall with a slightly pointed tip, and his overall expression constantly floated between dull indifference and sleep deprived detachment.
His body, although lacking in visible strength, moved with a sense of stubborn rhythm. After a while, he reached for his storage ring and withdrew a simple clay jug. Lifting it to his lips, he drank exactly four measured mouthfuls before sealing it and storing it away again. His motions were practiced and minimal.
Using his right arm, he pushed himself off the ground and stood, wobbling slightly, then stabilizing. He exhaled a long, drawn out breath, the kind you make when you've been moving too much and thinking too little, like a dog letting out a sigh at the absurdity of the world. After that, he finally began to move.
On his left was a long hill blanketed with tall grass, wild shrubs, and tangled roots. Trees clung to the slope, their bodies twisting like sentries mid dance, offering shadow and shelter, perfect for any hunter to lie in wait. On his right, a river churned beside him, broad and clear. A dozen meters further down, a waterfall spilled noisily, its crashing waters creating a continuous slashing roar that drowned out most nearby sounds. If someone, or something, wanted to travel unseen, unheard, this was the path to choose.
As he walked along the river's edge, somewhere deeper in the forest, a more primal scene played out, timeless and uninterrupted by human thought. A chase.
A predator stalked its prey. The hunted creature dashed forward on four powerful limbs. Despite its frail appearance, its movements were fluid and agile. It relied on sharp turns and bursts of speed, kicking back with legs strong enough to break bone. Desperation pushed it forward, every moment counted. Every choice was life or death.
The predator wasn't large, but it was determined and intelligent. It didn't waste energy, keeping its breathing controlled and minimizing unnecessary movement. In time, it had shrunk the distance between them, closing in with patience and calculation. The prey tried to lose its pursuer by darting through trees, diving under roots, and even kicking up dirt to obscure its path, but nothing worked.
Eventually, the chase reached a waterfall, the sound overwhelming, the space limited. The predator advanced with cold confidence. Cornered, the prey had little choice, it leapt onto a slick stone at the center of the waterfall's flow, desperately trying to buy time. The predator feinted a charge, and the illusion was too real. In its panic, the prey lost footing, slipped, and tumbled down the cascade. Its body crashed against the stones, each impact dull and final, until it finally slammed headfirst on a sharp edge just outside the stream.
Blood seeped from its ears and mouth, forming small crimson threads that meandered their way to the river. Life left it instantly.
A short distance away, unfazed by the violence, a boy sat in meditation. He was perched high in a tree that loomed far above the rest of the forest's canopy. This tree, taller and thicker than its neighbors, was no ordinary species, it was a cruelsprout tree. Deceptive by nature, the cruelsprout mimicked the appearance of a harmless fruit bearing tree.
Its tactic was cunning, it dropped fruit decoys and flattened its branches near the forest floor to lure unsuspecting creatures. If a lightweight animal approached, it would simply retract. But if the prey seemed worthy, plump enough, heavy enough, it would trap it in a sudden flurry of movement. Its branches would twist around the target, creating a living cage. From every leaf, thousands of nearly invisible micro spikes would extend. These tiny needles would inject a fast acting poison, silencing the prey before it could thrash or scream. Within minutes, digestion began.
The boy sat cross legged among its uppermost branches, indifferent to the tree's hunger or methods. This tree was dangerous, yes, but only to those who didn't know where to sit. For cultivators like him, it was perfect.
After a short while, the predator emerged from the thickets of the forest, its breath steady and predatory sharpness dulled slightly after the chase. It calmly approached the broken body of its prey. For a moment, it just stood there, its snout hovering above the bloodied carcass, eyes distant, reflective even. Then, without warning, it raised its head and cast a glance toward a towering tree a short distance away, as if awaiting a signal, or acknowledging a silent watcher.
Then, with a quiet grunt that almost sounded annoyed, it grabbed the corpse by the neck with its jaws and began dragging it through the grass toward the tall tree. Its movements were slow and deliberate, betraying a certain reluctance in its posture.
High up in that very tree, the boy, Zhuo Meng, watched it approach, barely paying attention at first. Only when the beast got closer did he glance down, letting out a long, exasperated sigh. It wasn't the first time this had happened.
Without a word, he reached into his storage ring and pulled out a few smooth, ordinary looking stones. He judged the angle carefully, squinting one eye shut, and began throwing the rocks toward a branch trap below. The first two missed, one clinking harmlessly against a root, the other bouncing off the wrong branch. On the third try, the stone struck a fake fruit embedded in the center of the trap. For a second, nothing happened.
Then, the branches retracted quickly like snapping ropes pulled by some invisible force. With the danger gone, Zhuo Meng dropped from the tree and landed smoothly on his feet, dusting himself off with casual ease.
By that point, the predator had already arrived, dragging the corpse with heavy breaths. It placed the dead animal down respectfully in front of the boy and stared at him with a blank, unreadable expression.
Zhuo Meng looked at the beast, clearly unimpressed. "Sigh... took you long enough with this one..." he muttered. "Fine, here, enjoy it."
He waved his hand again, this time retrieving a stage two demonized blonde hound from his storage. With a flick of his fingers, a multicolored ball of light formed in his palm before he launched it lazily at the corpse. The energy sank into it, causing subtle pulses of color to ripple over the body's surface.
Without waiting for a reaction, Zhuo Meng turned and walked away, vanishing into the distance with calm, unhurried steps.
It took him nearly two hours of walking to finally reach the outskirts of Feiyun City. Before stepping through the gate, he paused, reached into his ring again, and changed into his formal Blue Cloud Academy robe. His robe shimmered faintly with an enchantment and bore his class A permit stitched subtly near the collar. Voru, of course, had already been stored inside his core, undetectable to even a highly skilled cultivator unless they were specifically probing for it.
He approached the gate, and with just a glance at his attire and permit, the guards let him through without issue or question.
Once inside, Zhuo Meng made his way toward the outer market. The atmosphere was noisy, crowded, and chaotic—just the way he remembered it.
"Come at my stall, I sell cheap stage one demonized alpine axolotl!"
"Buy three mini baboon corpses and get one free!"
Vendors shouted themselves hoarse trying to grab the attention of passing cultivators. Many of them recognized the robe he wore and quickly tried to pitch him special deals, hoping to latch onto a Blue Cloud student with too many resources and too few shopping instincts.
Zhuo Meng, however, merely strolled past with his hands behind his back. He surveyed the stalls with a bored expression, as if shopping here was a chore more than a task. Many of the vendors even offered him better prices simply out of flattery, but he declined silently, not even breaking his pace.
Eventually, he reached the quieter end of the market. There, the noise dulled slightly. The crowd was thinner. There were fewer cultivators, and more mortal buyers, merchants, poor families, small time herbalists trying to score decent materials on a tight budget.
One of the vendors was a middle aged man with a sickly look to him. His face was pale, his body thin, his clothes old and worn from months of barely breaking even. His eyes, however, still carried a stubborn glimmer of pride.
"Come at my stall, everything is half the price of other stalls!" he called out. His voice cracked midway, but he kept shouting anyway, clutching hope like a man clutching his last copper coin.
Zhuo Meng, without a word, walked over to the stall.
The moment the vendor saw the robe and recognized the emblem on it, his tired face transformed. His eyes lit up with new life. His posture straightened, and for a second, he looked ten years younger.
"Master, master! I sell cheap animal corpses, maybe one is to sir's liking!" he beamed, nearly bowing over in excitement.
Zhuo Meng looked at the stall quietly before raising his hand to support his jaw, his thumb under his chin and his index along his cheek. "Hmph, I want some demonized corpses. Do you have some?"
The man blinked, then fumbled excitedly with a cloth bag behind him. "I have two demonized one eyed ravens! Does sir want them? I can give you a discount!"
Zhuo Meng nodded but waved off the offer. "There's no need for a discount. You've got to make a profit too, isn't that right?" He smiled faintly and handed over six qi stones.
The middle aged man froze for a moment. His eyes widened as he looked down at the stones in his palm, then back up. His lips quivered slightly as if holding back disbelief. That much money, for him, it wasn't just a good day's earnings. It was more than what he'd usually earn in a two months.
Zhuo Meng laughed out loud, gave a friendly wave, and walked off, leaving the man stunned behind the stall. People around were shocked. Some whispered, some just stared. Many assumed the two knew each other, and even passing cultivators turned their heads, puzzled at the interaction.
"Although these stage one demonized one eyed ravens don't carry much demonic qi." Zhuo Meng thought to himself, "I didn't overpay. It may look that way, but it's part of my plan. Two qi stones more no longer sway me."
The next morning, Zhuo Meng returned.
The sun had just risen, casting long shadows across the market. The vendor was still at his stall, standing in nearly the same position. But this time, Zhuo Meng approached with a far different energy.
His face was stern, his brows furrowed. His Blue Cloud Academy robe floated behind him, swaying sharply in the morning breeze as he walked with visible purpose. His pace was firm, like a man on a mission. He stopped right in front of the stall and fixed the vendor with a cold stare.
"I want compensation." Zhuo Meng said, his voice heavy with restrained anger.