The forest was quiet.
Too quiet.
Han Chandu walked alone.
No footsteps beside him.
No voice.
No distraction.
Only silence.
And awareness.
The deeper forest welcomed him.
Familiar.
But different.
Because now—
He moved alone.
A faint scent drifted through the air.
Blood.
Fresh.
Han Chandu stopped.
He moved forward.
Slow.
Controlled.
Each step measured.
The ground changed.
Claw marks.
Deep.
Heavy.
Not ordinary.
Not primitive.
Not mutant.
Higher.
A low sound echoed.
Weak.
Heavy.
He stopped.
Listening.
Then—
He saw it.
A massive golden lion.
Collapsed.
Breathing—
Breaking.
A king—
At the end.
A Sacred Creature.
Han Chandu didn't move.
Because even dying—
It could still kill him.
The lion's eyes opened.
Locked onto him.
Then—
It lunged.
Slow.
But powerful.
Han Chandu shifted.
Minimal.
The claws missed.
Barely.
The ground cracked.
He didn't counter.
He waited.
The lion staggered.
Failing.
Another step.
Another attempt.
Weaker.
Unstable.
Han Chandu moved.
Forward.
A single strike.
Clean.
Precise.
Final.
The lion froze.
Then—
Collapsed.
Heavy.
Still.
Dead.
A voice echoed.
"Sacred Creature (Lion King) has been killed."
At the same time—
A silent message appeared.
"Beast Soul gained (Armor Type)."
Han Chandu didn't react.
Because only he saw it.
He waited.
Watched.
No movement.
No trap.
Only then—
He stepped forward.
The body was massive.
Too much.
Not all usable.
He cut a portion.
Only the softer meat.
Avoided hardened layers.
Claws.
Dense parts.
Useless.
He sat.
Ate.
Slow.
Measured.
→ Sacred Geno Point +1
Another portion.
→ Sacred Geno Point +1
He paused.
Then took one more.
→ Sacred Geno Point +1
He stopped.
Because more—
Would not matter.
The body had limits.
So did he.
Staying longer—
Would only increase risk.
The scent of blood—
Would spread.
Draw attention.
He stood.
Still.
Then—
The armor formed.
Dark.
Smooth.
Covering his body completely.
No gaps.
No features.
No identity.
He looked down.
Calm.
Because this—
Was necessary.
He cut more meat.
Only what he could carry.
No excess.
No greed.
Then—
He turned.
Left the forest.
Wearing the armor.
The shelter appeared.
Familiar.
Busy.
Alive.
People moved.
Trading.
Talking.
Then—
They noticed.
A figure.
Unknown.
Covered.
Silent.
Han Chandu walked through them.
No hesitation.
No pause.
No one recognized him.
No one stopped him.
He moved to a quiet corner.
Placed the meat.
Simple.
Direct.
People gathered.
Careful.
Curious.
"…sacred meat…"
"…lion type…"
"…rare…"