As a mere Qi Condensation warrior, Gao Han could not yet peer within his own body. He knew nothing of the ice pearl nestled in his dantian, let alone the profound transformation unfolding within it.
All he sensed was that the scorching energy had surged toward his dantian, intent on incinerating his core—until a frigid, soothing current had abruptly erupted within him, driving the fiery force away.
Now that he was unharmed, his foe must be on the brink of collapse. Though he could not fathom why the Crimson Wind Wolf had unleashed such a devastating technique, he knew the beast could no longer fight back.
Gritting his teeth against the throbbing pain in his meridians, Gao Han dragged his sword forward and limped slowly toward the wolf. Strike it down while it was vulnerable—such was his sole thought now. Under the creature's terrified gaze, as it scrabbled backward in vain, Gao Han raised his sword and thrust.
A flash of silver sliced through the air, and a gaping hole appeared between the wolf's brows. The First-Grade demonic beast was dead. The knot of tension in Gao Han's chest unraveled at last; his strength deserted him, and he collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath.
"Truly, First-Grade beasts live up to their name. Even the weakest among them nearly claimed my life." Too exhausted to care about the sharp stones digging into his back, he lay sprawled on the earth and muttered to himself.
Though the battle had seemed brief and decisive, Gao Han had teetered on the edge of death at every moment. The slightest lapse in focus would have let the wolf's razor-sharp claws or rampaging demonic qi end his life instantly, and he had maintained his peak state without respite throughout.
This clash with a transcendent beast gave him a clear measure of his own strength: he was roughly on par with a newly promoted True Essence warrior. Against one who had broken through for a month or more, however, he would be outmatched. This estimate applied only to raw power; in actual combat, humans wielded intelligence and refined techniques, not the brute force of beasts. The wolf's final strike had nearly killed him despite his best efforts, a stark reminder that he still fell short of the True Essence Realm. His trump cards were not on the same level as those of a True Essence cultivator.
Gao Han summed up his findings: his power lay somewhere between Half-Step True Essence and genuine True Essence.
In truth, he was underestimating himself. That last attack had drained the wolf of nearly all its demonic qi, even drawing upon the essence of its demonic core. It would take months for the beast to recover its demonic qi, let alone its core essence.
Not every demonic beast formed a demonic core; it required a fortuitous opportunity, much like a human's special physique. Yet any beast that possessed one held a devastating secret weapon.
Two beasts of equal strength, for instance: if one unleashed its core essence, it would defeat the other effortlessly.
The only drawback was that a demonic core held the beast's life essence; replenishing it was agonizingly slow. This was why Gao Han had barely survived the strike—and why he had misjudged his own limits.
As Gao Han lay recovering, the ice pearl in his dantian slowly absorbed the raw power siphoned from the Crimson Wind Wolf, spinning gently and emitting streams of frigid qi that circulated through his meridians, mending the damage wrought by the beast's demonic energy.
Half an hour later, Gao Han's strength was fully restored. He rose from the muddied earth and clenched his fist in satisfaction. At the very moment his stamina returned, the icy currents had fully repaired his meridians, the residual frost seeping into his pathways to strengthen them.
At first, he did not notice the anomaly. Normally, such severe meridian damage would take three days to heal, even with steady meditation.
But when he sat to restore his inner qi, he froze in astonishment—his meridians were completely unharmed.
He pondered the mystery at length, yet could arrive at no conclusion. He set the matter aside, resolving to examine his body once he reached the True Essence Realm and gained the ability to see within.
Gao Han sat in quiet meditation, replenishing his inner qi. The Qiling Mountains were silent but treacherous; to be defenseless was to court death. The past half-hour had been safe only because the aura of the fallen First-Grade beast still lingered, deterring low-ranked creatures and leaving higher ones uninterested. Even a Tier Four beast could have killed him in his weakened state.
He restored his inner qi with all his might, and within a few hours, he had regained forty percent of his reserves. He dared not linger; once the wolf's demonic qi dispersed, other First-Grade beasts might come to claim the territory, spelling certain doom for him.
Gao Han slung the wolf's corpse over his shoulder, activated the Glimmering Shadow form of the Phantom Stride, and darted back the way he had come like a loosed arrow. He had gathered enough demonic materials to sell; any more would be too heavy to carry in one trip.
He ignored the beasts along his path, cutting his return journey nearly in half. But when he was less than a hundred yards from his hidden cache, faint, heated voices drifted through the air.
"Zheng Kong, I'll say it one more time—we found these goods. We don't even know who they belong to; the owner is probably dead. Let's split them up and be done with it! Understand?" A middle-aged man's voice hissed, simmering with rage.
A younger man snapped back, equally furious: "I told you, we found them! We wait for the owner, dead or alive. And watch your mouth! You dare curse me? You're asking for a beating!"
By the time the words faded, Gao Han had crept close enough to see the group. A burly young man had finished speaking, rolling up his sleeves in anger, clearly ready for a fight.
Another voice cut in, and Gao Han saw a tall, sturdy youth speaking with disdain. "Who dragged this fool along? Can someone please send him back?"
"You watch your mouth! You calling me an idiot? I'll break your neck before the day is done! Damn you to hell!" The young man named Zheng Kong looked deadly serious, hefting a staff over his shoulder in a thuggish manner.
The twenty-odd men opposite him erupted in anger. "You watch your tongue!" "You dare insult us? You're courting death!"
Only one man looked awkward—it was he who had invited Zheng Kong along. Seeing that Zheng Kong was a Ninth Layer Qi Condensation cultivator, he had recruited him into his group, only to discover he was a vulgar, hot-tempered ruffian.
"All of you punks! I'll teach you what a real ruffian is today!" Zheng Kong knew he was outmatched; the other side had twenty men, five of them Ninth Layer cultivators like himself, the rest Eighth Layer.
Watching from the shadows, Gao Han smiled to himself. This man is quite the character. He stepped forward, for the goods they argued over were his own hidden materials.
The group was stunned when they saw him. The demonic materials were from Tier Eight beasts—a windfall they had no intention of surrendering. Only Zheng Kong had refused to take them, insisting they belonged to someone else and should be left until the owner returned.
Naturally, the others had rejected the idea outright.
"Enough bickering. This pack is mine. Hand it over." A calm voice cut through the tension as Gao Han stepped into view.
The group eyed him warily. One man signaled to the others and stepped forward. "Friend, you can't claim this just by saying so. Be smart and leave."
Zheng Kong, however, spoke in his usual crude manner. "Hey, buddy—if this is yours, you better prove it."
Gao Han frowned slightly but explained, "There are more than ten types of materials inside, all from Tier Eight demonic beasts."
The men knew at once he was the true owner—but they were not about to surrender their prize.
"That's a lie," the spokesman said. "There are Tier Seven materials in here too. Now get lost." He waved a dismissive hand.
Zheng Kong would have none of it. He slouched casually, tapping his staff against his neck. "Did your father drop you on your head as a kid? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. This is clearly his stuff, and you're denying it to his face. Either your father's an idiot, or you inherited it." He turned to Gao Han and grinned. "Don't worry, friend. I'll get this back for you."
Gao Han's face had darkened at the group's audacity, but he offered Zheng Kong a faint smile at his support.
"I grow tired of this. I'll give you one last chance—hand over the pack." Gao Han rested his hand on his sword hilt, his inner qi surging ready to strike. If they refused, he would show them no mercy.
Zheng Kong saw his stance and knew he intended to fight. Though he thought it suicidal, he had given his word and intended to keep it. Besides, he believed his status would protect him from death.
The bandits, confident in their numbers, snarled, "Hmph! You'll regret this. Men, attack!"
Before the man could finish speaking, Gao Han moved. His sword slid from its sheath in a blur; he activated Glimmering Shadow and struck.
Four Eighth Layer cultivators fell instantly, their throats slit without a single drop of blood spilling forth.
Zheng Kong's eyes widened in shock. He had not expected the man's sword to be so deadly. "Nice work, buddy! Watch this!"
He raised his staff high and brought it crashing down in a domineering strike. A storm of staff shadows blotted the air. A Ninth Layer cultivator from the group charged forward to block, but the force of the blow sent him staggering back ten steps before he collapsed, spitting blood. One strike had defeated a Ninth Layer warrior—an easy feat for Gao Han, but unthinkable for an ordinary cultivator.
This Zheng Kong is no ordinary man, Gao Han thought to himself.
"He killed our men! Charge!" The greedy bandits surrounded the two men.
Gao Han cared little for Zheng Kong's help. He found the man amusing, but they shared no deep bond. He poured all his focus into slaughtering the bandits.
His sword whirled as he unleashed the Soul-Breaking Sword Art in relentless succession, each strike claiming a life. With the final form, he slashed at a Ninth Layer cultivator, chipping his blade with a single blow.
The man was sent reeling, blood spurting from his mouth. He stared at Gao Han in terror. "Mercy, sir! I don't want the materials anymore! They're yours—spare my life!" He was terrified by Gao Han's overwhelming power. Even with an ordinary weapon, to chip a blade in one strike meant he was completely outmatched.
In truth, Gao Han had mastered the Soul-Breaking Sword Art to perfection, its tenth form carrying devastating power.
Gao Han held his sword slanted toward the ground, his voice icy. "Regret comes too late."
He let out a cold laugh and unleashed the Ice Peak Roar. Blocks of frost materialized before his palm.
The bandits' eyes widened in terror. Force projection—a True Essence warrior! They dropped to their knees in unison. "Senior, spare us! We were blinded by greed!"
Gao Han laughed coldly. Spare the root, and the weed grows back. He was no saint. They had sought to kill him; they would not be allowed to flee.
Without another word, he slammed his palm forward. More than half the bandits died instantly, most of them Eighth Layer cultivators, the two remaining Ninth Layer fighters badly injured.
Zheng Kong cheered loudly. "That's how you deal with these punks! Finish them off!" He whooped and jeered. "Come on, you losers—surrender or die!"
Gao Han could bear it no longer and snapped, "Shut up!"
Zheng Kong fell silent at once, though he continued to dance about and mutter, "Who's the creep? You're the creep…"
Gao Han wove together the Cold Mountain Palm, the Soul-Breaking Sword Art, and the Phantom Stride in a seamless storm of death. Within five minutes, every last bandit lay dead at his feet. He did not even pant; with forty percent of his inner qi, defeating these ordinary Qi Condensation warriors had been effortless. Without the Phantom Stride, however, he would have sustained severe wounds even in victory.
Zheng Kong had turned into a cheerleader. "Yes! We won! Hey, buddy, you're awesome! Let me be your subordinate! Or you be my big brother! Or we think of something else!"
Gao Han's face darkened at his inane chatter. Finally, he snapped, "Shut your mouth! What are you, a parrot?" He slung the pack of materials over his shoulder and strode toward the edge of the mountains, Zheng Kong trailing closely behind.
An hour later, Gao Han was on the verge of breaking down. Zheng Kong had not stopped talking for a single moment.
"Where are you from, buddy?" "What's your name?" "Do you have a wife?" "Are you a sect disciple?" "Do you have kids?" "How old are your kids?"
Gao Han felt as though twenty ducks were squawking above his head. He could no longer contain his fury. "Look at me—I'm only sixteen! How could I possibly have children? Are you daft?"
He even regretted coming back for his materials. Why had he gotten stuck with such a man?
The sun sank toward the horizon, painting the pair's silhouettes long in the dying light. One figure rambled on nonstop, turning again and again toward the other, as the two walked side by side toward Feng City.