The world dissolved into shades of blood and rust. The moment Li Tian stepped through the gate, the familiar sounds of the sect were severed, replaced by an oppressive, muffled silence. The scarlet mist clung to him like a wet shroud, cold and heavy. Each breath was a minor battle, the acidic tang stinging his throat and lungs. The light was a dim, perpetual twilight, casting long, distorted shadows from the twisted, bone-white trees that clawed their way out of the acidic soil.
He moved with deliberate slowness, every sense stretched to a razor's edge. The ground underfoot was treacherous; in places, it looked solid but gave way to patches of bubbling silt that hissed and dissolved the edges of his footprints. The ring on his finger pulsed, a slow, steady rhythm that felt less like a warning and more like a companionable heartbeat in the eerie quiet. A guide or a countdown? he wondered, but pushed the thought aside. Speculation was a luxury he couldn't afford.
Finding a semblance of cover behind a large, fungus-encrusted boulder, Li Tian closed his eyes. He tentatively cycled the Heaven Swallowing Art, not to feast, but to sip. The ambient Qi of the valley was thick, chaotic, and laced with a violent edge. It was easier to draw in than the sect's placid energy, but it burned like cheap liquor as it entered his meridians. He immediately understood the first rule of this place: gluttony meant death.
Devour small. Refine clean. Bleed off the poison.
He focused on pulling in a thread of energy, no thicker than a hair. He guided it through the art's refining pathways, feeling its chaotic nature being sanded down, made usable. The residual, hostile energy—the "poison"—he didn't try to absorb. Instead, he gently vented it through the pores on his soles, a faint grey mist seeping into the ground beneath him. The process was painstaking, but when he opened his eyes, the world was slightly sharper, the muffled sounds a fraction clearer. It was a small gain, bought with discipline.
Pushing onward, he saw them: neat red talisman flags tied to branches, marking a clear path through the thorny undergrowth. It was too convenient. The ink on the closest flag looked freshly applied, and he caught a faint, lingering scent of human sweat and spirit oil beneath the valley's metallic reek. A trap. It stank of Zhang Fan's arrogance. He didn't touch the flags. Instead, he chose to shadow the path from a distance of about ten paces, using the dense, twisted foliage as cover. The jade token in his pocket warmed faintly when he faced the flagged direction, a subtle pull he noted with deep suspicion.
He tested every footfall, recalling Yan Qiao's advice. When a patch of ground that looked solid rippled like jelly under a tossed stone, he gave it a wide berth. The valley demanded respect.
The first sign of the apes was not sound, but evidence. Deep gouges scored the bark of a tree at shoulder height. Tufts of coarse, scarlet fur, almost invisible against the mist, caught on thorns. Then came the sound: a deep, resonant thump that vibrated through the ground, answered by two more from different directions. A primal drumming. The rhythm grew closer. The mist itself seemed to pulse with each impact.
The ambush was sudden and brutal. A hulking shape dropped from the canopy above, landing with a force that shook the earth. The Scarlet-Furred Ape stood as tall as a man, its muscles coiled like thick rope under a coat of blazing red fur. Its eyes glowed with a dull, intelligent malice. It didn't roar; it exhaled a hot, foul breath and charged, its Qi a blunt, oppressive wave that preceded it.
Li Tian threw himself sideways. The ape's fist smashed into the ground where he'd been standing, exploding dirt and stone. The shockwave hammered into his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs. He rolled to his feet, heart pounding. The difference in raw power was staggering.
He couldn't match it. He could only outthink it.
The ape charged again. This time, Li Tian didn't fully dodge. He met the charge, crossing his arms in a guard. At the moment of impact, he opened a tiny, focused vortex in his palms. The Heaven Swallowing Art flared.
CRACK!
Pain lanced up his arms, white-hot and searing. It felt like trying to drink from a firehose. He'd only managed to devour a fraction of the force, but it was enough to keep his bones from shattering. He was thrown back, blood trickling from his nose. He hit the ground and immediately began the bleed-off cycle, venting the ape's violent Qi into the earth. The pain receded from a scream to a throb.
The ape hesitated, confused by the feedback. It shook its massive head and attacked again, this time hurling a rock the size of a human skull. Li Tian ducked, the projectile whistling past his ear. The ape followed with a two-fisted overhead smash. Li Tian barely sidestepped, the force of the blow sending him stumbling backward. His heel skidded on the slick edge of a sharp decline—a cliff face hidden by the mist. The Ape Cliffs.
Knees are habits. I broke mine. The thought was a spark in the darkness. He would not be cornered.
He baited the creature, feigning a stumble toward a thick, thorn-covered trunk. The ape took the bait, lunging with a full-force slam meant to crush him against the wood. This was the moment. Li Tian planted his feet, ignoring the pain, and focused all his will. He didn't try to swallow the whole attack. He created a tighter, denser vortex, right over his heart, and aimed to devour just enough.
The ape's fist connected. The world exploded in agony. But Li Tian held, his body screaming as he siphoned a surge of raw power. The ape, its momentum suddenly unbalanced by the loss of a chunk of its energy, staggered forward. Li Tian pivoted on his heel, the stolen Qi flooding into his own fist. There was no technique, only desperate, refined force. He drove his fist into the ape's temple.
A sickening crunch echoed in the muffled air. The ape's eyes went wide, then dull. It collapsed like a felled tree.
Gasping, Li Tian fell to one knee. His whole body trembled. With a sharp rock, he pried open the ape's skull and retrieved a small, pulsating scarlet beast core. It was hot and prickled with wild energy in his palm. He didn't celebrate. He immediately sat and cycled the art, bleeding off the last remnants of the hostile Qi. The tremor in his hands subsided, but a network of hairline pains along his meridians remained, a map of the cost of victory.
He pocketed the core, wrapped his bleeding knuckles, and re-tied the cloth over his mouth. He was learning. Swallowing enemy Qi here was a double-edged sword—incredibly potent, incredibly dangerous.
A hundred paces ahead, another red flag fluttered, marking a path that led to a wide, seemingly stable ledge overlooking a deeper part of the gorge. The ledge's edge was dusted with an unusual, powdery white grit that stood out against the red stone. A disguised deadfall. Zhang Fan's final touch.
Li Tian's eyes narrowed. He would keep his distance. But as he prepared to skirt the ledge, a deeper, far more powerful roar rolled through the valley. It was the sound of authority. Of an alpha. From the mist above the ledge, multiple, heavier chest-thumps answered the call.
The ring on his finger pulsed once, hard and urgent. A warning.
Above, on the ridge overlooking the deadly ledge, a shadow moved. Massive, knuckled fingers, each as thick as Li Tian's wrist, curled over the rocky edge.