Chapter 36 – Sect Selection(2)-Beneath the Rain
The forest did not answer his gaze.
Hao Tian stood at the edge of a shallow ridge, half-hidden among twisted roots and damp stone, eyes fixed on the darker stretch ahead. Somewhere deeper within, the air still trembled faintly—residual disturbances from battle. Not close. Not distant enough to ignore.
That's where they're clashing, he thought.
Real Qi Refining cultivators. Not testing. Not probing. Killing.
He didn't move immediately.
His breathing slowed, then slowed again, until each inhale felt deliberate. Only then did he allow the tension in his shoulders to ease—just a little.
"…You're not invincible," he muttered under his breath.
The words weren't self-criticism. They were grounding. A reminder.
The fight from earlier replayed in fragments whether he wanted it to or not.
The Iron-level beast—the wolf—had almost taken his leg. The human ambush after that had come closer than he liked to admit. If the man had been calmer… if his blade had angled just a bit higher…
Hao Tian exhaled sharply through his nose.
Too close. Again.
That bothered him more than fear.
He crouched, resting one hand against the damp earth. The forest smelled different here—iron-rich soil, crushed leaves, the faint acrid tang of old blood. Not fresh enough to be a recent kill. But not old either.
Someone—or something—had fought here last night.
He adjusted the strap of his pack and moved forward carefully, placing each step where roots broke the ground instead of leaves. Cloudstep stirred beneath his feet—not fully invoked, just the faint alignment of balance and momentum from its first stance, the only one he could maintain without cost.
Slow, he reminded himself.
You rush, you die.
Ten minutes later, he found it.
The clearing was torn apart.
Tree trunks bore long gouges, bark stripped clean. The ground was cratered in places, as though something heavy had slammed into it repeatedly. Patches of scorched earth mixed with deep claw marks.
No corpses.
Which meant—
"They took everything," Hao Tian murmured.
Smart. Or desperate.
His gaze swept the area again—and then he saw it.
Near the base of a split boulder, half-hidden by churned soil and broken fern, a faint glimmer of blue-green caught the light.
He approached slowly, knife already in hand.
It was a herb.
Not one he recognized immediately.
Broad leaves, dark at the edges, lighter toward the center. The veins shimmered faintly, as if light passed through water trapped inside them. The stem was thick, resilient.
Hao Tian knelt.
"…So you survived the fight," he said quietly, almost amused.
He examined the soil around it. Trampled. Cracked. Whatever had fought here had ignored it completely.
After a moment, realization dawned.
Too focused on killing each other, he thought. Didn't have the calm to notice you.
Carefully, he dug around the root and extracted it whole. The Qi within the herb was stable—not violent, not aggressive. Mature.
"Rainvein Leaf," he murmured after a moment.
A high-grade Rank 1 herb. Borderline Rank 2 if refined properly. Valued not for explosive power, but for sustained recovery and circulation stability—perfect for long fights or extended cultivation.
His lips curved slightly.
"…That makes today less of a disaster."
He stored it carefully and moved on.
The forest thickened as he descended.
The light dimmed. The air grew warmer—subtly, insistently. The trees here were broader-leafed, bark darker, roots deeper. Everything felt heavier. More grounded.
And then—
A sound.
Not loud.
Controlled.
Something exhaled.
Hao Tian froze.
His hand slid to the sword's hilt as his senses sharpened. He did not circulate Qi yet. He listened.
Leaves shifted.
A shape emerged between the trees.
It was a big cat—but not a lion.
Longer. Lower. Built for ambush rather than dominance.
Its fur was a mottled ash-brown, patterned to break its outline among shadow and bark. Muscles rippled beneath its hide with slow, deliberate motion. Its eyes were pale amber, unblinking.
And embedded near its shoulder—
A red token.
Hao Tian's heart thudded once.
Fourth stage Qi Refining… at least.
The beast didn't rush him.
It circled.
Smart, Hao Tian thought grimly. Damn smart.
His grip tightened.
"This is already pushing it," he whispered.
He considered retreat.
The thought wasn't cowardice. It was calculation.
Then the beast moved.
Not a charge.
A test.
It stepped forward—just one step—claws sinking into the earth. Its gaze never left him.
A challenge.
Hao Tian swallowed.
"…Of course," he muttered. "You won't let me walk away."
He slid his sword free in one smooth motion. No flourish. No wasted energy.
Qi check, he thought. You're not fresh.
He could afford Cloudstep—briefly. Two or three stance change at most. Three sword variation. Maybe four if things went wrong.
No more.
The leopard lunged.
Fast.
Hao Tian invoked Cloudstep, First Stance, shifting his weight sideways rather than back. The movement wasn't flashy—but it saved him. Claws grazed his sleeve instead of his ribs.
Too close!
He slashed instinctively—Formless Sword, Clean Divide—forcing the beast to disengage.
The cut landed shallow.
The leopard snarled.
Pain—but not enough.
Hao Tian's breath came faster now. Heat crawled up his spine.
You don't win by overpowering it, he told himself. You win by surviving long enough to see the opening.
The beast circled again.
Rain began to fall.
Not heavy. Just enough to slick the ground, darken the leaves, blur edges.
Hao Tian laughed softly under his breath.
"…Figures."
The leopard attacked again—this time from above.
Hao Tian felt the pressure shift a heartbeat before impact and threw himself into Cloudstep's second stance, twisting low. Qi flared briefly through his legs—controlled, minimal.
The beast sailed past where his head had been.
Now.
He drove forward—Formless Sword, Pressing Arc—forcing the leopard to parry with its own body.
Claws scraped steel.
Sparks flashed.
The force rattled his arm.
Too strong. Way too strong.
His Qi dipped noticeably.
The leopard recoiled, tail lashing.
Both paused.
Rain pattered between them.
Hao Tian's chest rose and fell.
You get one clean shot, he thought. One.
The beast crouched.
Hao Tian did the same.
And when it leapt—
He didn't retreat.
He stepped into the strike.
Metal Qi surged—not much, just enough—channelled into the blade's tip.
Formless Sword — Threading Thrust.
The sword slid between ribs, piercing deep.
The leopard convulsed, a choked sound tearing from its throat. Its momentum carried it past him, collapsing hard into the mud.
Hao Tian staggered back a step, knees threatening to buckle.
"…That's it," he whispered hoarsely.
The beast twitched once.
Then stilled.
Silence reclaimed the clearing.
Rain soaked into his hair, his clothes, his skin.
Hao Tian stood there for several seconds, sword lowered, breathing hard.
Then he laughed.
Not loud.
Not triumphant.
Just… real.
"…I really could've died," he said to no one.
His hands shook.
He didn't stop them.
When they finally steadied, he approached the corpse, retrieved the red token, and carefully extracted the beast's core.
Fourth-stage Qi Refining.
Warm. Dense. Valuable.
He packed it away and leaned against a tree, eyes closing briefly.
You didn't win because you were stronger, he told himself.
You won because you didn't panic.
That mattered.
Far more than the token.
When he finally moved on, he went deeper.
Toward where the forest truly began to bare its teeth.
And this time—
He walked forward not as a hunter testing his luck—
But as a cultivator who had survived long enough to understand what it cost.
........
The rain had never stopped.
By the time Hao Tian pushed deeper into the forest, it had settled into a steady, unyielding fall—no longer a sudden downpour, but a cold, persistent presence that soaked into everything. Water slid down leaves in thin streams, gathered along branches, and dripped endlessly into the churned earth below. The ground was already slick from earlier fighting, mud clinging to his boots with every step.
He adjusted his breathing and slowed slightly.
Still raining… good. Noise is harder to track. But footing becomes a problem.
His clothes were damp from before, the fabric heavy against his skin, but he had already adapted to it during the earlier fight. The rain blurred distance, softened sound, and muted the forest's usual sharp edges. Scents lingered longer. Blood, beast musk, and the faint metallic tang of Qi hung stubbornly in the air instead of being carried away.
Hao Tian wiped rainwater from his brow with the back of his wrist and glanced briefly at the dark canopy overhead.
No reset. No break, he reminded himself. This trial doesn't pause just because the weather turns ugly.
Somewhere deeper in the forest, a low, distant sound rolled through the rain—too heavy to be thunder, too deliberate to be wind. The earth trembled faintly beneath his feet, just enough to make him stop.
His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword.
That's not something small.
He shifted his stance, letting his weight settle more carefully, and moved on—eyes sharp, mind alert, rain continuing to fall around him as it had since the last battle.
Hao Tian slowed his pace.
"Good," he thought.
Rain favors precision… and punishes recklessness.
His breathing remained controlled, but his senses were stretched thin. Every sound mattered here—the snap of a twig, the hush of disturbed leaves, the low vibration of something large moving far away.
His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword.
Deeper means stronger beasts. Stronger beasts mean fewer people…
And the ones I do meet won't be friendly.
A flicker of memory crossed his mind—faces from the town square, confident smiles, trembling hands. Many of them wouldn't survive the first night.
The thought didn't make him smug.
It made his chest feel… tight.
"I didn't come here to count corpses," he muttered under his breath. "I came here to live."
A sudden sound cut through the rain.
Metal scraping stone.
Followed by a sharp intake of breath—human.
Hao Tian froze.
His instincts screamed danger, but something else followed immediately after.
Pain.
Not his.
Someone else's.
He moved without thinking, melting sideways between trees, careful not to rush. The rain masked his steps, the mud swallowing sound. He crouched atop a low rise and looked down.
The clearing below was torn apart.
Trees gouged with deep claw marks. Earth churned as if something massive had thrashed violently. The remains of scorched ground suggested fire techniques—recent, but not ongoing.
At the center of it stood a beast.
It was massive, low to the ground, with a broad, plated back and a long, ridged tail that dragged through the mud. Its hide was a dull, slate-green, thick and layered like overlapping stone shingles. Short, powerful legs anchored it firmly to the earth.
A Verdant Ridgeback.
A forest-dwelling predator known for endurance and crushing force rather than speed.
Hao Tian's pupils tightened.
"Fifth-stage Qi Refining," he judged instantly.
Red token level… high end.
And then he saw her.
She was kneeling behind a fallen tree trunk, one hand pressed hard against her side. Blood seeped between her fingers, dark against her soaked robes. Her breathing was ragged, her face pale—but her eyes were sharp, burning with irritation rather than fear.
Fire flickered weakly around her free hand, unstable but present.
She looked up.
Their eyes met.
For half a breath, both froze.
Then she hissed, "If you're going to stare, do it somewhere else!"
Hao Tian almost laughed.
Almost.
Instead, he whispered back, "You fought this alone?"
She scoffed despite the pain. "Don't sound so impressed."
The Ridgeback turned.
Its head swung toward their position, nostrils flaring. Mud slid from its plated neck as it growled—a deep, grinding sound that vibrated through the clearing.
Hao Tian's mind raced.
She's injured. Badly.
If I retreat, she dies.
If I fight alone… this will cost me.
Qi was precious. Rain reduced footing. The beast favored drawn-out fights.
And yet—
He exhaled.
"…Damn it."
He stepped out.
The Ridgeback roared and charged.
Hao Tian didn't meet it head-on.
Cloudstep — Mist-Drift Step.
His body shifted sideways, feet barely touching the ground as he slid across wet stone, the beast's charge tearing past where he'd stood a heartbeat earlier.
Mud exploded.
The Ridgeback slammed into a tree trunk, cracking it in half.
Hao Tian struck.
Formless Sword — Threading Thrust.
Not deep. Not fatal.
Just enough.
The blade slid between two plates of hide, drawing a low bellow of pain and rage. Hao Tian retreated immediately, refusing to overcommit.
Don't get greedy.
The beast spun, tail sweeping wide.
He barely avoided it, feeling the wind of it pass his chest.
Behind the fallen trunk, the woman gritted her teeth.
"Hey!" she shouted hoarsely. "You planning to dance all day, or do you actually kill things?"
Hao Tian shot her a glance. "You can still use any of your techniques?"
She smirked. "If you give me an opening."
"Once," he said. "That's all I need."
He inhaled.
Cloudstep — Shrouded Cloud Crossing.
This time, he surged forward, rain scattering around his feet as he closed distance sharply. The Ridgeback reacted instantly, jaws snapping shut inches from his shoulder.
Too close.
Too reckless.
Pain flared as one of its claws scraped his side.
He ignored it.
Formless Sword — Clean Divide.
A powerful, controlled slash, infused lightly with metal Qi. The blade rang sharply as it bit into exposed flesh at the base of the beast's neck.
The Ridgeback recoiled.
That was the opening.
A surge of fire roared past Hao Tian's shoulder.
Not wild.
Not explosive.
Focused.
It slammed into the wounded section of the beast's neck, searing through muscle already compromised by the sword strike.
The Ridgeback screamed.
Its roar was cut short as Hao Tian moved again using Shrouded Cloud Crossing.
He appeared at its flank.
One breath.
One strike.
Formless Sword — Threading Thrust, driven deeper this time, angled upward.
The blade pierced through vital tissue.
The Ridgeback collapsed with a final, shuddering groan.
Silence fell.
Rain continued to patter against leaves.
Hao Tian stood there, chest heaving, sword dripping with water and blood.
For a moment, he didn't move.
Then he exhaled shakily and laughed.
A real laugh.
Short. Breathless. Almost disbelieving.
"…That was stupid," he muttered. "Absolutely stupid."
Behind him, the woman let out a weak snort. "Took the words right out of my mouth."
He turned.
She was still kneeling, but she looked… relieved.
And amused.
"Name's Yan Rui," she said, wincing as she shifted. "And you just saved my life."
He hesitated. "Hao Tian."
She looked him over slowly, eyes lingering just a bit longer than necessary.
"Well, Hao Tian," she said lightly, "you're terrible at choosing safe battles."
He shrugged. "So are you."
She laughed, then hissed in pain.
"Careful," he said, stepping closer. "Your injury—"
"Already know," she interrupted. "Fifth stage. Strained meridians. I fought a black-token beast earlier. Barely walked away."
Hao Tian stiffened.
Black token… and she lived?
She caught his expression and grinned weakly. "Don't look so shocked. I didn't win clean."
He nodded slowly. "…Still impressive."
She reached into her pouch with trembling fingers and pulled out a small jade bottle.
"For your trouble," she said, pressing it into his hand. "A breakthrough pill. Third stage Qi Refining. Maybe fourth, if you're stubborn enough."
He stared at it.
"…You're giving this to me?"
She tilted her head. "You planning to refuse?"
"No," he admitted. "I just—"
"Good," she cut in. "Then we're even."
They sat there for a moment longer, rain falling softly around them, the forest breathing quietly once more.
Hao Tian retrieved the red token embedded along the Ridgeback's plated spine, then carefully extracted its core.
As he stood, Yan Rui looked up at him and said, almost teasingly, "If we survive this trial, maybe you can repay me properly."
He raised an eyebrow. "Properly how?"
She smiled.
"You'll think of something."
And for the first time since entering the forest—
Hao Tian felt something warm bloom beneath the tension.
Not safety.
Not comfort.
But connection.
And that, he realized quietly…
Might be just as dangerous as anything else here.