De-Reece wiped the sweat from his brow, his breath still ragged from the gruelling sword practice. His Qi reserves were running low, a frustrating reminder of his limits. The flickers of elemental power that danced along his blade had been intoxicating — but fleeting. If he truly wanted to build a sword style of his own, he needed more than just strength. He needed resources.
The alchemy books he had studied echoed in his mind. Ingredients — rare herbs, elemental crystals, and beast parts — could replenish Qi, enhance physical strength, or even fortify his meridians. Without them, his progress would stagnate. The Heavenly Demon might have left behind knowledge, but he hadn't left behind the means to fuel that knowledge.
De-Reece finished the last of his snake meat, chewing slowly as the faint traces of Qi from the meal dissipated into his body. It was a far cry from the surge he had felt the first time — now, it was barely a whisper. His limbs ached, his Qi reserves scraped thin, and the weight of exhaustion pressed down on him. Knowing he needed rest, he leaned against the cool stone wall of the cave, letting his body succumb to sleep.
When he awoke, the sky beyond the cave mouth was a soft, misty grey. His body felt marginally better, his Qi still faint but steadier, like a flickering candle. Gathering his sword, De-Reece stepped out of the cave into the thick forest of red oak trees. The air was crisp, each breath carrying a faint hint of moss and earth. Mist clung to the underbrush, swirling in delicate tendrils as he moved cautiously, his senses sharpened. The more he learned about Qi, the more he noticed the pulse of the world around him — the slow, steady thrum of life in the trees, the faint hum of insects, the shifting currents of wind.
The forest felt alive, not just with physical movement but with an undercurrent of elemental resonance. The great oaks hummed with earth energy, unyielding and ancient. Moisture in the air pulsed with water's gentle flow, while the distant rustle of leaves carried the wind's subtle touch. Even the occasional spark from a distant ember moss hinted at the fire's restless hunger.
Elemental attunement. The concept from the formation book clicked into place. Everything had an element: water flowed with fluidity and change, earth stood firm and unyielding, fire consumed and transformed, the wind carried both freedom and unpredictability, and metal cutting with ruthless efficiency. By attuning himself to these elements, he could better locate ingredients tied to them.
His first find was subtle — a patch of Bloodroot, its crimson-veined leaves almost blending into the undergrowth. The alchemy book had described it as a fire-attuned herb, known to stimulate Qi circulation and help with minor injuries. He carefully uprooted a few stems, storing them in his spatial pouch. Even as he touched the roots, a faint warmth buzzed against his fingertips — the subtle signature of its elemental essence.
Further ahead, he noticed a thin, glistening vine spiralling around a tree. Silver thread Vine — an earth and metal hybrid plant, often used to reinforce bones and strengthen Qi pathways. De-Reece's fingers brushed the vine, feeling the faint pulse of energy within it, a steady, almost metallic thrum. He remembered the book's warning about overharvesting — taking too much could disrupt the elemental balance in the area. He only clipped what he needed.
I can feel them, he realized. The elements — they're not just theories. They're alive.
As he collected more herbs — a few Windshade Flowers swaying unnaturally in a still breeze, a patch of Ember Moss clinging to a sunlit rock — a distant chittering sound made him freeze. His gaze snapped up to the trees, and there they were.
The monkey tribe.
The brown-furred creatures with their distinct red-striped markings moved with agile grace through the branches. Their eyes, encircled by husky-like fur patterns, gleamed with sharp intelligence. Some carried crude weapons — sharpened sticks and rocks tied to vines. Others clutched bundles of strange fruits and herbs.
De-Reece crouched low, his back pressed against the rough bark of a red oak, eyes fixed on the swaying branches above. The monkey tribe moved with an organised purpose that sent a chill down his spine. This wasn't random foraging — it was methodical. Calculated.
Each monkey carried something: herbs tucked behind their belts of woven vine, crude pouches slung over their shoulders, and makeshift weapons grasped in nimble hands. Some clutched the glowing blue flowers he now recognized as Moonlit Iris — rare and potent in Qi-enhancing elixirs. Others carefully gathered Frostpetal Leaves, their silvery sheen catching the dappled light filtering through the canopy.
They know what they're doing.
His mind spun. The alchemy book had been clear — these were no common plants. They had elemental properties tied directly to the flow of Qi. For the monkeys to target them so precisely, someone had either trained them, or they were following instructions left behind.
De-Reece's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. His Qi reserves were still low, a constant reminder of his limits, but his strategic instincts roared to life. Rushing after the tribe headlong would be reckless. No — this required patience.
Observe. Plan. Execute.
Moving carefully, he followed the monkeys from a distance, weaving through the underbrush and using his growing grasp of formations to mask his presence. His fingers traced subtle patterns in the air, channelling his remaining Qi into a simple Invisibility Formation — a small, 5x5 meter array that bent the light around him, having expanded 2 metres with practise. It wasn't perfect — the flickering of his Qi made it slightly unstable — but it was enough to blend into the forest's natural shadows.
The deeper they went, the more the forest changed. The red oaks thinned out, replaced by twisted trees with dark, sinewy bark and long, grasping roots. Patches of glowing fungi clung to rocks, pulsing faintly in hues of purple and green. The elemental resonance shifted — no longer the balanced harmony of earth and wind, but something more chaotic. Unstable.
Finally, the monkeys halted.
Nestled in the heart of a sunken grove was a crumbling structure — an abandoned alchemist's lab. Vines strangled the stone walls and shattered glass littered the mossy floor. The air buzzed with faint remnants of alchemic energy, the aftershock of Qi-based experimentation. A sickly green mist hovered above the ground, swirling unnaturally, and the stench of scorched herbs and decayed matter clung to the air.
But this wasn't just a ruin.
Near the entrance, a small cauldron still smoked, a sickly green vapour twisting into the air. A pile of freshly gathered herbs lay beside it, sorted into neat bundles — Ash Bark, Ember Moss, and more Moonlit Iris. Someone had been here recently.
The monkeys chattered among themselves, placing their gathered materials in designated spots. One particularly large monkey — its red stripes darker than the others — tugged at a length of chain anchored to the wall, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside were more refined alchemic tools — bone-carved knives, crystal phials brimming with liquid, and a scattering of gold coins. But what caught De-Reece's eye was a small bronze signet ring resting atop the pile — a symbol etched into its surface: a coiled serpent devouring its own tail.
An Ouroboros.
His heart thudded. The alchemy tome mentioned that certain symbols could be tied to sects or factions, but his knowledge was shallow. He couldn't place the name or significance of the Ouroboros, but its presence spoke volumes — this lab wasn't just a stray hideout. It belonged to someone. Perhaps a dark alchemic sect or rogue cultivator group.
A sudden flare of Qi resonated from within the lab — faint, but distinct. It wasn't the wild, chaotic energy of beasts. This was controlled, deliberate.
Cultivators.
He edged closer, peering through a cracked window. Inside, two figures moved about the lab — both clad in dark robes, their faces obscured by hoods. The taller one poured a viscous black liquid from a vial into the cauldron, while the other carefully mixed a powdery substance De-Reece couldn't identify.
Then he saw it — a small cage shoved into the corner of the lab. Inside, a quivering beast no larger than a rabbit thrashed weakly, its fur matted with blood. Dark runes were carved into its body, pulsating with an eerie crimson glow.
Blood alchemy.
Rage coiled in De-Reece's gut. This wasn't just alchemy — this was dark magic. These cultivators weren't seeking balance or healing; they were twisting Qi through pain and suffering, using the life force of innocent beasts to fuel their experiments.
His grip on his sword tightened.
But he didn't move.
Not yet.
De-Reece forced himself to stay hidden, his heart pounding in his chest. He needed more information. Charging in headfirst could mean death — not just for him, but for the caged beast as well. If these cultivators were part of a larger force, killing them without understanding their purpose might only draw more danger to him.
Think, De-Reece. Think.
He listened closely, focusing on their hushed voices. The taller cultivator spoke first, his tone cold and clinical.
"We need more blood essence," he muttered. "This beast's Qi is too weak. If we can't extract a pure core, the master will have our heads."
The shorter one grunted. "We should've used the crimson moon fox. Its core was stronger — but no, you had to drain it dry last time. We're running out of time. The master expects the elixir by the next moon."
The master.
De-Reece's mind raced. There was a chain of command — these weren't rogue alchemists acting alone. They were servants to a greater power, someone capable of blood alchemy on a level far beyond their skill.
I need to know who this master is.
"Plus," the shorter cultivator muttered, his voice a low growl, "those traces we found — someone's here. They might be onto us."
"I don't believe that," the taller alchemist replied, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his tone. "It could just be some wanderer passing through. Don't stir up trouble we don't need."
The shorter one snorted. "Hmm... the master might want to know either way."
But more than that — I can't let them leave here alive.
They know of me or suspect me at least.
If even one of these cultivators escaped, they could report back to their master, painting De-Reece as a threat. Worse still, the traces he may have unintentionally left behind — the faint Qi fluctuations from his formations, the broken twigs along his path — gnawed at his mind. His survival hinged not just on his strength but on his ability to remain a ghost — a whisper in the dark, untraceable and forgotten.
Eliminate them. Destroy the evidence. Leave nothing behind.
His eyes flicked to the cauldron. If he could sabotage it — overload the elemental balance within — it could explode, creating a brief moment of chaos. Enough time for him to strike.
"He crouched low—he had to act now. They knew about him. Without hesitation, he quickly consumed a handful of medicinal herbs and half a qi-restoring potion. He knew this wasn't the most efficient way—refining the herbs into a pill or potion would yield far greater results. But this was a life-or-death situation, and he didn't have that luxury. He still didn't fully understand the rules of this strange world, but right now, he needed every ounce of strength he could get."
Drawing a slow breath, De-Reece began weaving his Qi into a small formation — a destabilizing rune, using his limited elemental energy with sharp precision. Though his reserves weren't empty, he was acutely aware of their limits — every thread of Qi had to be placed with care. He didn't need a grand display — just enough to shatter the cauldron and unbalance the delicate concoction brewing within.
Strike fast. Strike hard.
The moment the formation clicked into place, De-Reece tensed — ready to become a storm.
The formation clicked into place, a silent thread of Qi slicing through the alchemic balance within the cauldron. For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then, a violent hiss erupted — the sickly green liquid bubbling over as the delicate elemental alignment collapsed. Fire clashed with water essence, wind spiralled wildly, and the cauldron shuddered before exploding in a blast of corrupted Qi and searing heat.
The taller cultivator staggered back, his robes catching the brunt of the blast, the acrid smoke clinging to him like a living thing. Glass shattered, shelves toppled, and the lab descended into chaos.
De-Reece was already moving.
Phantom Shadow Steps carried him forward — his form a flicker in the smoke. Each step was a ghostly whisper, his Qi barely a ripple as he closed the distance, sword gleaming with a faint, elemental sheen. His fear of exposure twisted into sharp intent — a desperate need to silence every witness.
The shorter cultivator coughed, waving the smoke from his face, his hand reaching for a talisman hidden in his sleeve. His mouth opened to shout — to call for aid, to alert someone — but De-Reece's blade flashed.
The strike wasn't elegant.
The sword cut deep into the cultivator's arm, severing tendon and bone. A scream died in the man's throat as De-Reece pivoted, stepping into his shadow, and with a brutal twist, drove his blade through the man's ribs. The cultivator choked, a bubbling sound escaping his lips as blood spilled over the stone floor. In the next breath, De-Reece felt it — a sudden, raw surge of Qi flowing from the dying man, an invisible current rushing into his meridians. It was wild, tainted with the cultivator's own corrupted essence, but De-Reece welcomed it, his body drinking in the stolen power. His muscles tightened, his core flaring as if stoked by unseen flames. The sensation was both intoxicating and unsettling — a dark reward for his brutal efficiency.
No time to stop. No time to think.
The taller one, recovering faster than De-Reece expected, launched a blast of fiery Qi from his palm — a roaring ember that lit the air. De-Reece twisted, barely avoiding the flames as they singed the hem of his cloak. His sword arm burned with the heat, but he gritted his teeth, pushing past the pain.
I can't let him escape.
The taller cultivator darted for the lab's back entrance — a hidden door now exposed by the blast. De-Reece's fear surged. If the man fled, his master would know. They would hunt him. He would be a target.
"NO."
Raw, unrefined elemental Qi flared within De-Reece's blade — a chaotic blend of wind and fire essence, unstable but deadly. He poured his fear into the strike, a savage swing aimed not for precision, but for devastation.
The blade collided with the wall beside the escaping cultivator, sending a shockwave of combined elements rippling outward. Stone cracked and wood splintered, cutting off the man's escape route.
Cornered.
De-Reece didn't give him a chance to react. Phantom Shadow Steps carried him forward again, his sword carving a brutal arc that slashed across the cultivator's chest. The man stumbled, blood spraying the wall, his Qi faltering as his body sagged.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then, a rush. A surge of Qi unlike any before. It flowed from the fallen cultivators, drawn into De-Reece's body like a starving beast devouring a meal. It was raw, unfiltered, and seethed with lingering remnants of their corrupted techniques. His meridians burned as they absorbed the stolen energy, his muscles tightening as if reforged in unseen flames.
He clenched his jaw, holding himself steady as the Qi stormed through him, flooding into his core. The sensation was intoxicating—a taste of power that threatened to unravel his control. He forced his breathing to steady, grounding himself in the moment. This was not the time to revel in stolen strength.
His mind still screamed of danger — of the master they spoke of, of the traces they had found of him. He couldn't leave a single clue behind.
With a cold, mechanical focus, he gathered the bodies, dragging them into the wreckage of the lab. His hands moved with practised efficiency as he rifled through their robes—snatching up unknown pills sealed in jade bottles, talismans charred at the edges, and small pouches clinking with silver and bronze pieces. All of it disappeared into his spatial bag. The cauldron's shattered remains still pulsed with unstable Qi, a silent threat lingering in the air. He carved another formation into the stone floor — a crude but effective destruction array, designed to collapse the entire structure.
Before activating the array, De-Reece's gaze flicked around the lab. Shelves of alchemical ingredients lay scattered—crystals, powders, and herbs he recognised from the Alchemy tome. His fingers moved quickly, grabbing vials and pouches and sweeping them into his spatial pouch. His heart pounded, both from urgency and the sharp realisation of what this haul meant—pills, reagents, and tools for alchemy. Power.
Then his eyes fell upon a small iron cage in the corner, half-hidden by a toppled shelf. Inside, a creature no larger than a fox, with dark fur streaked with faint blue lines of Qi that seemed to pulse in rhythm with its shallow breathing, whimpered. Its form was wiry but elegant, claws slightly elongated and teeth sharp enough to suggest it wasn't merely prey. Faint tendrils of elemental energy clung to its fur—like mist rising from a cold river. Its eyes, a brilliant shade of deep violet, intelligent and wide with fear, met his.
Another pawn in their twisted games.
Without hesitation, De-Reece shattered the lock with a precise strike of his blade. The creature darted out, circling his legs briefly before slinking into the shadows behind him.
"Come or die here," he muttered, not expecting a response.
The lab was a ruin now—glass shards glimmering like jagged stars, smoke thick as a storm cloud. The array was ready.
He placed the last Qi-infused stone into the formation's center. The symbols carved into the floor pulsed—once, twice—before the ground trembled. A faint ripple of energy began to spread.
As the array activated and the alchemic lab began to quake, De-Reece stepped back into the forest's embrace, his Phantom Shadow Steps already blending him into the night.
No witnesses.
No evidence.
No escape.
The master would hear nothing of this.
The forest was a whisper of shifting leaves and distant calls, the kind of quiet that De-Reece had learned to distrust. Each step back to his hidden cave was measured, his Phantom Shadow Steps keeping him a fleeting blur between the trees. Yet, there was something else—a presence. Not a threat, but a shadow trailing him, silent but constant.
It was the creature. The black-furred animal with the faint blue Qi lines running like rivers through its sleek body. Now that De-Reece had a better look, it resembled a small tiger—its muscles lean, its fur dark enough to merge with the forest's shade. But those blue lines… they pulsed, almost breathing, flowing along its spine and legs like a living formation. A rare beast, one he hadn't seen even in the alchemic tomes. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to appreciate its otherworldly beauty.
The creature's deep violet eyes watched him carefully, not with fear, but a quiet intelligence. It kept its distance yet stayed close enough to suggest it had chosen to follow him.
Strange. Why does it follow me?
The thought was cut short by his own carelessness. As his fingers itched to rummage through his spatial bag—checking the spoils of his brutal assault—reality hit him like a cold wave. He was still in the open. Vulnerable.
The master could have sent more men. More eyes could be watching.
Jaw tight, De-Reece pushed down the urge to examine the pills and artefacts right then and there. He shifted his focus, scanning the trees, listening beyond the steady thrum of his own Qi. The forest felt too still. His mind, sharp with the lingering fear of exposure, urged him onward.
With a last glance at the strange beast, De-Reece picked up his pace, retreating back into the safety of his cave.
The cave greeted him with its familiar dampness, a sudden, almost jarring shift from the tense, watchful quiet of the forest. The stale coolness seemed more suffocating than comforting, as if the stone walls themselves were closing in. Shadows clung to the corners, and the faint remnants of past Qi formations whispered from the floor—a reminder of his desperate attempts at cultivation. Each step inside felt like shedding a layer of the outside world, but the fear lingered. Was he truly alone? Had he been followed? Even here, in the heart of his hidden refuge, the weight of exposure gnawed at him. a stale coolness in the air that seemed to seep into his bones. The creature slinked in after him, its violet eyes flickering like twin embers in the dim cave light. It paused for a moment, head tilting as though sensing the turmoil within De-Reece—the roiling Qi, the grimace still etched on his face. A low, almost imperceptible rumble escaped its throat, not quite a growl but a sound of muted curiosity or perhaps concern. It slipped into a darker corner, its gaze never leaving him. slipping into a darker corner, its violet eyes still watching.
Finally, alone, De-Reece emptied the contents of his spatial bag onto the ground. Pills sealed in smooth jade bottles, talismans singed at the edges, small pouches of silver and bronze coins—all spoils from the lab. Alongside them, he found a small bundle of preserved food: hard biscuits, dried meat, and a tightly wrapped cloth holding what appeared to be pickled roots—sustenance the alchemists must have kept for themselves. Tucked near the bottom was a small, crystalline fruit, its surface shimmering faintly with a soft azure glow—an ingredient he recognized from the alchemic tomes, though its exact use eluded him for now. hard biscuits, dried meat, and a tightly wrapped cloth holding what appeared to be pickled roots—sustenance the alchemists must have kept for themselves. Then there were the alchemic reagents: powders, crystals, and dried herbs—some familiar, others alien to him.
His heart thudded with a strange mix of triumph and fear. He had stolen these, killed for these. And now, the real work began.
He lit a small flame with a spark of Qi, letting it hover over his palm before setting it beneath a battered bronze cauldron. The alchemic tools he'd taken were basic—chisels for carving formations, measuring spoons of various spiritual metals—but they would have to do.
Yet, before he could begin his experiments, the surge of Qi from the earlier fight gnawed at his insides. It still roiled within him, untamed, pressing against his meridians like a caged beast.
He grits his teeth. His right shoulder meridian throbbed, the flow of Qi blocked, pulsing painfully each time as the stolen energy raged within him. If he didn't break through, it would fester, slowing his cultivation.
No choice.
De-Reece steadied his breathing, focusing inward. He gathered the storm of Qi within his core, directing it like a flood toward his right shoulder meridian. The pain sharpened instantly, a burning lance beneath his skin. His muscles twitched, his vision blurred—but he pushed harder.
A sudden crack—a snap of something internal—and the Qi broke through. His right shoulder flared with a searing heat before the energy flowed freely, merging into his network.
He barely had time to catch his breath before the next wave crashed against the meridian running through his spleen. This one was tougher, half-sealed, a barricade of unyielding essence. De-Reece bit down hard, sweat beading on his forehead as he drove the Qi forward.
Minutes felt like hours—every heartbeat a drumbeat of agony. The pain clawed through his midriff, a searing heat spreading from the spleen meridian outward like molten metal coursing through his veins. Each push of Qi felt like knives twisting under his skin, his muscles clenching involuntarily, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. It wasn't just pain—it was torment, raw and unforgiving, a battle of will as much as body.
Then—another snap. The meridian opened halfway, and Qi spiralled through, wilder and more turbulent than before.
Panting, De-Reece collapsed against the cave wall. His body screamed, and his mind reeled, but the energy within him now flowed smoother—stronger. Yet, he knew he couldn't let the storm within him rage unchecked. With trembling hands, he folded his legs beneath him, straightening his spine despite the searing ache that rippled through his midriff. His breathing slowed—inhale, exhale—each draw of air pulling the chaotic Qi back toward his core.
The flow resisted at first, an untamed current still reeling from the forced meridian breakthroughs, but with each steady breath, De-Reece wrestled it into submission. The pain dulled into a distant throb, and his mind sharpened, like steel cooling after being drawn from the forge.
The creature's violet eyes flickered from the shadows, unblinking as it observed him. For a moment, there was only silence—the faint drip of water from some unseen crevice and the hushed pulse of his own Qi finding its rhythm once more.
Only then did De-Reece open his eyes. He was ready to begin.
The creature watched him still, silent and unblinking.
With a steady hand, De-Reece reached for the nearest jade bottle, popping the seal with a flick of his thumb. The scent of bitter herbs and faint Qi essence drifted up.
He was ready to begin.