The morning light crept over the horizon, spilling pale gold across the uneven grasslands. Lin Yue kept low, pressing his small beast against his chest as they moved through the tall grass, careful not to disturb the morning wildlife. Every movement was deliberate, every step measured. The hunters had been driven away for now, but he knew better than to let his guard down. Danger always lingered.
Over the past week, Lin Yue had discovered that survival wasn't just about hiding—it was about understanding the world and using it. He and his beast had begun a strict routine, moving between shaded groves, small streams, and ancient stone ruins that dotted the land. Each day was an exercise in awareness, training, and careful study of their surroundings. Lin Yue would watch the wind, follow the scent of the grass, and track subtle movements, teaching the beast to mirror his own caution.
The beast had changed. Its once small, hesitant movements were now deliberate. Its gaze followed threats before they appeared. Lin Yue had noticed that during these training sessions, faint pulses glowed along the mark on its skin. Each pulse seemed to grow warmer, more consistent. He didn't fully understand it yet, but he felt the bond—the connection that allowed them to share instinct and emotion—strengthening with each passing day.
Veil of Shadows… he thought, almost absentmindedly, remembering the power that had saved them the first night. The spatial distortion, the blurring of the world around them, the short-range teleportation—it was no longer just a desperate reaction. It seemed to pulse in rhythm with the beast itself, responding not just to fear, but to intention.
During one particularly tense morning, Lin Yue found a patch of glowing moss near a crystal-clear stream. Its shimmering light radiated a faint warmth, a fragment of energy that seemed alive. Carefully, he gathered pieces of the moss, offering them to the beast. As it absorbed the small fragments, the mark along its forearm pulsed brighter, sending ripples of sensation through Lin Yue. He could feel the beast's nervous energy transform into focus and clarity, the first true sign that the treasure had awakened something within it.
That day, the Veil of Shadows shifted subtly. Previously, it had allowed short-range teleportation of roughly two meters, enough to dodge immediate threats. But now, after absorbing the moss and surviving multiple small encounters with predatory animals, the effect had grown. The world blurred and twisted with faint waves, and Lin Yue felt them lift and land roughly four meters away from where they had stood. His chest tightened with a mixture of awe and fear—this was power that even seasoned tamers might envy.
The beast, still small and seemingly fragile, had awakened another trait. Its instincts had sharpened. When Lin Yue crouched behind a grove, the faintest rustle of leaves sent the beast into a defensive crouch, its glowing mark pulsing as if to warn him. They had survived because of this bond, and every day, the link deepened.
By the fourth day, Lin Yue realized something extraordinary. The beast's bloodline was stronger than it seemed. Though it had started as a weak, overlooked creature, the mark hinted at hidden potential. Its Veil of Shadows was evolving not just linearly—it was adapting. The bond itself influenced the awakening, allowing the spatial teleportation to extend, enemies' senses to blur more, and the beast's reaction to danger to sharpen.
For Lin Yue, the process was quiet and almost mundane. They spent hours dodging predators, absorbing fragments of celestial moss, and training in careful maneuvers through dense foliage. But each step, each pulse of power, felt monumental. He whispered encouragements to the beast, not just out of hope, but out of an instinctive recognition that their survival depended on trust and timing.
By the end of the week, the Veil of Shadows had grown stronger. The teleportation now reached roughly five meters, enough to avoid a sudden ambush or cross dangerous terrain. The beast's claws, once blunt and hesitant, had strengthened, showing hints of the Blood Claw Slash that would follow. Even more astonishing, Lin Yue realized that this growth was unlike anything he had read about in cultivation or tamer manuals. The beast's powers were responding to his choices, to his timid, careful strategies. Its hidden evolution was quietly taking shape.
Lin Yue crouched on a low rock, watching the horizon. The grasslands seemed peaceful now, but he knew better. Every day was a trial, every encounter a lesson. And yet, for the first time, he felt something he hadn't before: hope.
They were growing—not through brute strength, but through cunning, patience, and trust. And in the quiet bond between boy and beast, Lin Yue understood something fundamental: survival was their true power, and the world would have to respect it sooner or later.