Kong had been unconscious when humans found it. They treated its wounds, and for a time after, it lived among them. When it had healed, they released it back into the wild.
It had no enmity toward humans. It had no desire to become their enemy.
A fox was an inherently clever creature. A mutant, awakened fox even more so.
"Peaceful coexistence is just something the weak tell themselves to feel better," Zhao Feng said, glancing at Jinhong.
The math was simple. In terms of raw strength, they should be the ones inspiring dread — not the other way around.
How many First Sequence fighters did Dragon Kingdom have? Including those still developing, the number barely reached double digits.
And their own group?
Tigerflame. Kong. Jinhong. Ziling.
Four First Sequence-tier awakened creatures.
Ziling's healing ability was comparable to Ethan Yates himself.
Kong wielded First Sequence-level spatial ability — weaving through human civilization undetected to this day.
The last time, Kong had pulled him out from right under the Fire Emperor Firewing's nose without being noticed.
Zhao Feng himself hadn't fully grown yet, but as his strength kept climbing — once he absorbed a second or third First Sequence talent — whatever he became would transcend everyone. A qualitative shift. Suppressing several First Sequence fighters alone would stop being a stretch.
That kind of strength put them beyond comparison to any faction outside the national government.
Even that government would have to be wary of them.
And wariness was the precondition for any genuine peace — because both sides would have something to lose if the table got flipped.
Beyond that: the humans had hundreds of millions on their side. This group had five.
Even if they eventually sheltered more creatures that wanted nothing to do with war, right now it was humanity that should be wary of them — not the reverse.
"I know," Jinhong said, dipping its head.
Strength was essential; it understood that. But that wasn't why it was happy.
The peace that came from mutual deterrence was hollow peace. What it wanted was genuine acceptance — the kind that ran soul-deep.
Before now, that possibility had been vanishingly small. Almost nothing.
The wariness toward other intelligent species, the mounting negative emotions that had nowhere to go, the accumulation of experiences that left people feeling like the world couldn't be trusted — all of it had driven humans to extend cold indifference to everything outside their immediate circle of family and friends.
Even before the spiritual revival, they had harbored hostility toward strangers' pets — animals with collars around their necks and leashes in their owners' hands.
In public, they kept their venom contained. But on that other territory called the internet, they unleashed it freely — anonymous cruelty poured into every crack.
A nation like that — peaceful coexistence would have been nothing more than fear dressed up as civility.
It would have saddened them. But there would have been nothing to do about it.
And now, something new had appeared.
The threshold for cultivation required every person to find and commit to a Dao — a path, a belief, something worth building a life around. As more and more people went looking, they came back changed. Purer. Old qualities they had abandoned were slowly being reclaimed.
As the number of people who found their path grew, as they became more genuine, the world around them opened up to accommodate more.
The heart-to-heart belonging that Jinhong had always wanted — it might actually become real.
That was why it felt this way.
"Wait — did you just say—"
Zhao Feng's brow furrowed suddenly.
"Cultivation technique?"
He stared at Jinhong.
"Dragon Kingdom has developed a technique for absorbing spiritual energy?"
"How? The Daoist and Buddhist sect materials they collected — I thought those were confirmed inoperative."
"Did the research institutes actually produce something?"
Before he had defected and begun stealing abilities, he too had fantasized about it — read enough webnovels to wonder if real cultivation might exist somewhere. He'd gone through everything available to him in the Spiritual Energy Bureau's archives. Not a trace. Some experimental records existed, but every test had concluded the same: the spiritual revival had not made classical cultivation viable.
Jinhong looked at him without answering. Then, from somewhere, it produced a phone and tossed it over.
"See for yourself."
Zhao Feng caught it and started reading.
Cultivation technique confirmed real — Dragon Kingdom officially embarks on the path to immortality?
Shushan, Wudang, Longhu Mountain, Quanzhen — Daoist disciples reveal their true capabilities?
Alchemy, forging, formations, talismans, spellcraft — just how broad is a Daoist practitioner's curriculum?
White Cloud Temple, Shaolin — Buddhist sects reported to have fewer than one in a hundred disciples meeting cultivation threshold?
Seeking the Dao, pursuing the Dao — the Longevity Art is only the beginning.
Zhao Feng stared at the screen.
He and Tigerflame hadn't been in isolation that long. How had the world changed this completely?
It wasn't just that cultivation had become real — it sounded like all of Dragon Kingdom was embarking on this path.
Not everyone, he corrected himself. First you needed a Dao. Most people were still searching.
So — what was his Dao?
His eyes drifted to the government-released text of the foundational Daoist technique, the Longevity Art. Without thinking about it, he followed the method and tried.
He came alert after a few seconds. Something invisible — a membrane, a wall — was there, refusing to let him proceed.
That was the so-called threshold.
He gave a small shake of his head and put the phone away.
Whether he could actually cultivate wasn't the point. Even if he found his Dao and crossed the threshold, the only thing available to him would be the Longevity Art — a basic public release. Did he even need a foundational technique?
For anything more advanced, he'd need to register with the Spiritual Energy Bureau. And he was fairly certain he was still on their wanted list. Walking in would be walking into a cage.
"When you've found your Dao," Jinhong said, watching him, "I'll give you a cultivation method suited to you."
"You've seen a future where I'm actually cultivating?"
Zhao Feng looked at it. The expression on his face shifted to something stranger.
Was Jinhong's ability really what it claimed — random flashes of futures? Then how convenient that it had randomly glimpsed the exact technique suited for him?
If not — what else could explain it?
"You'll understand when the time comes."
Jinhong didn't answer. It closed its eyes and began restoring the mental energy it had spent on its vision.
Zhao Feng didn't push further. He looked at his arm — Ziling had finished the repair — then turned back to Tigerflame.
"Again."
"Sure."
Tigerflame dipped its massive head in agreement.
It and Zhao Feng shared the same drive toward strength. But where Zhao Feng wanted to stand at the apex of this world, Tigerflame wanted something simpler: to protect Jinhong, Kong, Ziling — the others.
*(Chapter End)*