Yang Yi found a hollow beneath the roots of a twisted ironwood tree. The damp earth smelled of copper and mold. He slid into the darkness, his back against the rough bark, and pulled the porcelain bottle from his pocket.
The liquid inside sloshed, heavy and viscous.
He didn't hesitate. Survival in the Li estate had taught him one thing: power borrowed was better than no power at all. He uncorked the vial and tipped it back.
The blood hit his tongue like molten lead.
Yang Yi gagged. His throat convulsed, fighting the intrusion, but he forced the swallow. Heat exploded in his stomach. It wasn't the warmth of alcohol; it was the searing, tearing burn of a wildfire.
"Garbage body."
He curled his knees to his chest. His veins bulged, turning a dark, bruising purple against his pale skin. The Refined Beast Blood tore through his system, hunting for weakness, purging the stagnation of a Tier 1 wastrel.
Memories that weren't his flickered behind his eyelids.
A girl with dirt on her cheeks. Yang Shan. Her hands offered a half-eaten bun. Her eyes wide with fear as men in silk robes laughed.
"Brother, run!"
Yang Yi clenched his teeth until his jaw popped. The pain in his blood ceased to be pain and became fuel. The thrumming energy of the beast blood hit his dantian and shattered the blockage there.
A crack echoed inside his ears.
Sweat slicked his hair. He panted, the air hissing through his teeth. The weakness that had plagued his limbs moments ago evaporated, replaced by a tension like a drawn bowstring.
Tier 1 Middle Stage. No. Peak Stage.
He looked at his hands. The tremors stopped. He squeezed a fist, and the knuckles popped, sharp and loud in the quiet forest. It wasn't Grandmaster strength, but it was enough to kill.
A heavy paw crushed a twig outside the hollow.
Yang Yi didn't flinch. He slowed his breathing, willing his heart to match the slow rhythm of the forest. He reached for the dead thug's dagger. The hilt felt greasy.
A snout pushed through the hanging vines.
It wasn't a wolf. It was a nightmare stitched together with muscle and bone. Red fur matted with dried gore, eyes glowing with a feral, yellow hunger. A Blood-Mane Wolf. Low tier, but enough to rip a normal man in half.
The beast sniffed. It smelled the Refined Blood lingering on Yang Yi's breath.
Yang Yi didn't wait for it to roar. He exploded from the hollow.
The wolf scrambled back, surprised. It snapped its jaws, teeth clicking inches from Yang Yi's nose.
"Too slow."
Yang Yi stepped into the creature's guard. He drove the dagger upward.
The blade skidded off the wolf's sternum. The beast's hide was like cured leather. The impact jarred Yang Yi's wrist, sending a shockwave up his arm.
The wolf slammed its shoulder into him.
Yang Yi flew back. He hit the ironwood tree, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. The wolf didn't hesitate. It lunged, jaws wide, aiming for the throat.
Yang Yi dropped the dagger. He didn't need steel. He needed leverage.
He caught the wolf's lower jaw with his left hand and the upper snout with his right. His grip tightened. The beast thrashing, claws tearing furrows into the dirt.
The strength of the Tier 1 Peak surged.
Yang Yi roared. He twisted his torso, using the wolf's momentum against it. He slammed the beast's head into the tree trunk.
Crunch.
The wolf whimpered and went limp.
Yang Yi didn't let go. He smashed the skull against the wood again. And again. Until the struggling stopped completely and the yellow light faded from the beast's eyes.
He dropped the carcass. He stood over it, chest heaving, blood dripping from a scratch on his forearm.
"Beast blood creates beasts."
He wiped his hands on his trousers. He looked down at the dead wolf. A faint red mist began to rise from the corpse. Essence.
He couldn't waste it.
Yang Yi knelt. He placed a hand on the wolf's ruined head. He didn't know the technique, but the body remembered. The Blood Siphon Art. A common trick for hunters, usually requiring tools. Yang Yi used sheer will.
The mist curled around his fingers, seeping into his pores. It was a trickle compared to the vial, but it settled the raging fire in his veins.
He stood up and checked the sky through the canopy. The violet leaves turned black as twilight approached. The forest would come alive soon. Real monsters would wake up.
He patted the pocket containing the Dragon Transformation Token.
"Yang Shan. Wait for me."
He turned north, toward the distant peaks where the Dragon Transformation Palace touched the clouds. He moved silent and fast, a ghost in a forest of monsters.