Shi Yao stepped forward and slung the wounded man's arm over his shoulder, steadying him with a quiet exhale. The disciple leaned heavily against him, breath shallow, armor clinking faintly with each step—a dull, dragging rhythm that echoed beneath the canopy.
They moved through the forest—roots twisting beneath their feet like the gnarled fingers of some buried giant, thick foliage blotting out much of the sunlight. High above, birds circled lazily between narrow shafts of light that pierced the canopy like golden spears trying to reach a forgotten world.
It was too quiet.
A faint rustle echoed behind them. Then another. Sharper this time.
Shi Yao's steps slowed, his gaze flicking back over his shoulder.
He turned slightly—
—and the rustling grew louder.
Trees began to sway. Branches trembled violently. Flocks of birds exploded into the sky in a chaotic blur of wings and shrill cries.
The forest no longer felt calm. It felt... watching.
"I wonder what could be causing the commotion," Shi Yao thought to himself, adjusting his grip on the wounded man's waist. The skin between his brows pinched slightly, a flicker of irritation slipping through his otherwise stoic face.
The rustling grew sharper. Louder. Closer. Branches snapped like brittle bones. Shrubs bent under the weight of something fast-moving and deliberate.
Then— A monkey leapt out from a bush, landing on all fours a few steps ahead, fur matted with grime, eyes gleaming with something a little too alert.
Shi Yao stared at it flatly.
"Ah… here I thought it was something big," he said, voice cool and unimpressed, like he was observing a speck of dust.
"Looks like it's just a monkey."
The shaking grew again—louder, heavier, more deliberate. It wasn't just one.
Suddenly, the trees ahead exploded into movement. Dozens of thick branches bent under weight as monkeys filled the canopy, their eyes gleaming through the leaves like embers in the dark. The sheer number made the air feel heavier, as if the forest itself had turned hostile.
Shi Yao's steps froze.
Both he and the disciple stared, eyes wide.
"I take back my words"
"Oh sh*t," Shi Yao muttered, jaw tightening. "Just how many are there?"
Without wasting another second, he shifted his stance, hoisting the disciple fully onto his back with practiced ease.
Then—he moved.
A burst of wind. Leaves scattered like startled birds. And Shi Yao vanished into the forest's depth, trees whipping past as he sprinted through the undergrowth like a shadow gliding over water.
Branches whipped past his face as Shi Yao darted through the forest, the weight of the wounded disciple pressing against his back. His footing remained sharp—balanced—even as tree roots jutted out like grasping claws and the path ahead narrowed into wild underbrush. His breaths were even, controlled, not a drop of panic in them.
Behind him, the forest erupted.
Dozens of monkeys gave chase—some bounding across branches overhead with terrifying grace, others leaping between trees or sprinting along the forest floor, claws raking bark, shrieks echoing in waves that rolled through the foliage like a war drum.
Shi Yao didn't look back.
"Hey," he called over his shoulder, voice steady amidst the chaos. "You recognize what kind of monkeys those are?"
The disciple stirred weakly, managing a hoarse response.
"Earth Monkeys... they're not supposed to be here. Usually stay near rocky hills or cliffside caves... Not dense forests like this."
"Strength?"
"Most of them sit around Qi Refinement Layer 8," the disciple wheezed. "Maybe one or two near the peak at Layer 9. They grow to about six feet tall—fast, strong, and relentless once provoked... but they don't normally move in swarms."
Shi Yao's eyes narrowed, feet not slowing.
"Then why are they here?" he muttered, his voice like the edge of a blade.
The disciple didn't answer.
But the monkeys kept coming. The air behind them felt charged, like a storm held just inches away.
"Man, what a crazy world," Shi Yao muttered, weaving through the trees as leaves tore past his cheeks. "Not even a month since I transmigrated, and I'm already getting chased around by monkeys."Shi Yao muttered to himself.
The forest thundered behind him—branches snapping, howls echoing—but a stray thought crept into his mind.
He glanced over his shoulder at the disciple. "Hey... remind me again—where do these things rank in terms of strength?"
The man, barely holding on, managed to croak, "Qi Refinement Stage 8... strongest ones hit Layer 9."
Shi Yao's steps slowed.
Then he stopped.
Completely.
Dust swirled around his feet as he stood in place, staring blankly into the distance.
"Wait," he said slowly. "Qi Refinement Layer 8?"
He blinked.
"Then why the hell am I running away?"
A silence fell.
The rustling behind him didn't stop.
But Shi Yao's eyes began to sharpen.
Shi Yao knelt and gently set the disciple down beneath the shade of a thick-rooted tree. The ground was soft with fallen leaves, the air still thick with tension.
"Stay here," he said calmly, brushing dust from his sleeves. "I'll deal with the monkeys. Shouldn't take long."
The disciple's eyes widened in alarm. "Wait—are you insane? That's a death wish! You're planning to fight a hundred... maybe more... Qi Refinement beasts all by yourself?"
Shi Yao straightened, gaze fixed on the treeline ahead.
"They're Qi Refining beasts without intelligence," he said. "Not a real threat. Just noise."
"But it's still a massive number! You can't just—"
"Hey," Shi Yao interrupted, turning his head slightly, eyes calm. "You got any weapons on you?"
The disciple blinked, startled. "Uh… yeah. Just a pair of daggers."
"Perfect."
Shi Yao extended his hand without hesitation, palm open.
"I'll return them in better condition."
Shi Yao's gaze sharpened, tracking the twitch in the bushes with a stillness honed by countless hours of solitary focus.
"That disciple said Earth Monkeys don't belong here," he thought. "Cliff caves, rocky hills — not dense forests like this. Something's off."
The branches ahead trembled once. Twice.
A sudden shriek tore through the underbrush, sharp and guttural.
Without warning, a large Earth Monkey launched forward — all muscle and motion. It was tall, perhaps six feet, with thick limbs and powerful shoulders that rippled as it leapt. Its fur was coarse, matted from movement, and its dark eyes locked onto Shi Yao with wild intensity.
The creature's leap was fast — a blur of fury and instinct.
But Shi Yao didn't flinch.
His left foot shifted subtly across the dirt, angling his weight. His right hand, already resting on the dagger's hilt, moved only when necessary — clean, direct, and almost effortless.
The air split with the whisper of steel.
In that instant, momentum halted. The Earth Monkey's charge faltered mid-arc, its power undone by the sheer precision of Shi Yao's counter.
A heartbeat passed.
Then the beast crumpled to the forest floor, its motion spent.
Not a wasted movement. Not a drop of hesitation.
Shi Yao exhaled slowly, the dagger gleaming faintly under a shaft of light that pierced the canopy. A few leaves drifted down, disturbed by the brief violence.
His eyes, cold and unreadable, didn't even glance at the fallen beast.
"Qi Refinement or not," he murmured, sheathing the blade with practiced ease, "if it lacks intelligence… it's just another obstacle."
More Earth Monkeys began to appear—crawling down from the canopy, pushing out from the brush, their growls layering over each other in a rising chorus of primal noise.
They didn't wait.
They advanced in waves.
Shi Yao lowered his gaze to the dagger in his hand, angling it slightly under the sunlight. The edge was nicked, dulled from time and use.
"This dagger…" he murmured. "It's not sharp enough."
A faint shimmer of green light pulsed from his palm. Qi flowed from his core, wrapping around the blade in a controlled sheath. The dull edge seemed to hum—growing lighter, sharper—reforged by force of will alone.
"Let's test its sharpness."
The ground trembled as the monkeys charged—bounding off roots, leaping from trunks, coming from all directions.
The first one lunged from the front, arm swinging in a wide, brutal arc.
Shi Yao stepped to the side, calm as a breeze.
The green-lined dagger flashed once.
The Earth Monkey collapsed behind him, unmoving.
Before the next beast could react, Shi Yao vanished—a blur of movement, a streak of motion through the trees.
One by one, the Earth Monkeys fell—some mid-pounce, others before their feet touched the ground.
To the eye, he barely seemed to move. Just flickers of motion between the trunks. A twist of green light. A flash of steel. A shift in wind.
Within moments, the chaos began to quiet.
Under the tree, the injured disciple watched in stunned silence. Sweat clung to his brow.
He swallowed hard.
"He can enhance his weapon with qi… That means—he's a Foundation Establishment cultivator. No wonder he wasn't afraid."
Shi Yao's dagger carved another clean arc, severing the beast that had lunged too close. Its body collapsed into the underbrush, its momentum vanishing like smoke.
But then—his eyes narrowed.
Movement.
A blur just beyond the edge of his peripheral vision—low, fast, deliberate.
One of the beasts had slipped through.
It darted toward the tree where the injured disciple sat, claws extended, its snarling maw stretched wide as it prepared to strike.
Shi Yao reacted instantly.
His figure flickered, the wind exploding beneath his feet. One moment he stood in the clearing— the next, he was already between the beast and its prey, qi burning in his limbs.
Steel flashed.
The creature's charge ended before it could land. Shi Yao's dagger swept cleanly across, and the beast staggered back, reeling. Before it could recover, a sharp kick crashed into its chest. The impact sent it flying through the forest with a loud crack, its body vanishing between trees and branches like a stone skipping across water.
The disciple flinched beneath the tree, stunned into silence.
Shi Yao exhaled slowly, aura flickering around him in steady pulses. He didn't glance back.
"That was dangerous," he muttered, scanning the treetops. "One of them got through."
Above, dozens of beasts still lingered on the branches, their silhouettes hunched and still—watching. The forest was thick with their presence, like the pressure of rain just before a storm broke loose.
He narrowed his gaze.
"They just keep coming... no matter how many fall, more replace them."
Already he could feel the early weight of exhaustion creeping into his body, the subtle strain of qi leaving his veins.
"If it goes on like this... my reserves will burn out."
Then—his aura stirred.
A pulse of green light shimmered across his body, flowing outward like ripples across still water. Leaves around him rustled, the wind suddenly sharpening.
He lifted the dagger again.
This time, it didn't gleam—it radiated.
Emerald qi wrapped around the blade in a thin, focused current. It didn't flare wildly. It whispered with contained precision, like a bowstring pulled taut.
"Let's see how far this will go."
Then he moved.
His foot grounded, stance locked. In one seamless motion, he slashed the air in front of him—not at a creature, but at the forest itself.
The sound that followed was unnatural.
A sharp, humming resonance tore through the trees—a shockwave of qi that erupted from the blade like thunder trapped in a narrow corridor.
Branches shattered. Beasts were launched from their perches, their shrieks drowned beneath the roar of compressed force.
The qi wave split the canopy. A wide scar of destruction tore through the treetops—cleaving trunks, limbs, and leaves. Everything in its path was cut down, erased by precision and sheer velocity.
The entire forest seemed to recoil.
The winds died down. Silence stretched over the clearing like a veil.
Shi Yao stood still, dagger lowered, breath calm. The green aura around him flickered once... then steadied, like a warning to whatever still lingered.
Beasts flew through the air, flailing mid-scream as the aftermath of Shi Yao's qi slash tore through the treetops. Leaves rained down. Splintered wood spun like shrapnel. The wind itself seemed to stagger from the force.
Shi Yao didn't waste the moment.
He vanished from the branch.
His figure streaked across the air, dancing between the collapsing limbs of trees. Each time his feet touched bark, a beast died. His dagger whispered through the air—swift, silent, final.
He wasn't just cutting down enemies.
He was sending a message.
The green aura around him blazed faintly in motion, leaving soft trails behind his movements. For a few fleeting seconds, he looked like something untouchable—less man, more force.
Finally, he crouched atop a thick branch high above the forest floor. Bark flaked beneath his boots. His dagger pointed downward, angled loosely in his grip. Breathing calm, pulse steady.
He surveyed the battlefield below.
"That must've taken out a large number of them," he muttered, narrowing his eyes.
But the forest didn't agree.
A sudden shriek cut through the stillness, followed by the crack of a branch.
A beast lunged from the left—larger than most, its body packed with dense muscle. It leapt with a surprising angle, swinging its fist not straight, but curved—aimed to catch Shi Yao from the side mid-dodge.
He caught the motion and sidestepped fluidly.
His blade rose in a blur.
A faint hiss of displaced air followed as the beast's arm fell—severed at the joint. Its momentum crumbled, but Shi Yao didn't have time to follow through.
Another presence.
Behind him.
He felt it before he saw it.
The moment his balance shifted from the first step, a second beast surged from the rear, silent and fast, its claws already raised for a slash to the back of his neck.
Shi Yao didn't turn.
His left foot coiled, then snapped backward in a brutal mule kick.
The impact connected with the beast's chest in a deafening crack. Ribs buckled. The creature was launched backward through the branches, limbs flailing as it disappeared into the canopy with a thundering crash.
Without breaking rhythm, Shi Yao stepped into his next strike. The dagger swept low, then cut upward like a crescent moon—finishing the first beast in a single motion.
Then—
A faint glint in the air.
Something fast. Thin. Sharp.
His pupils contracted.
Fssht!
A dart zipped through the treeline, barely audible, aimed directly at his temple.
Clang!
His blade flicked up with surgical timing, deflecting the dart in a clean parry that sent it spiraling off into the branches.
Shi Yao stood still, blade raised, eyes locked in a narrowed stare.
The wind picked up. The beasts… didn't charge.
He scanned the treetops, his expression shifting—cool calculation returning to his features.
"...Something's wrong."
He looked closer.
They weren't moving randomly anymore.
They were surrounding him—some keeping distance, others shifting into place behind thick tree trunks. They weren't attacking all at once like before. They were waiting. Measuring. Timing their movement like trained hunters.
Above, a few took higher ground. Below, others crouched between roots and cover.
One beast gave a soft grunt—barely audible.
Another replied with a short motion of its claw.
Signals.
Shi Yao's frown deepened.
"They're positioning themselves to trap me…"
He lowered his center of gravity, eyes darting between the shifting silhouettes.
"They're coordinated."
He exhaled once, softly.
"These aren't mindless beasts anymore."
Another dart hissed through the air.
Shi Yao's eyes flicked toward it instantly—his dagger tilted up in a practiced motion, deflecting the projectile with a metallic clang. It veered off course…
…right into the injured disciple's shoulder.
The man jolted, his eyes rolling back as he slumped sideways, unconscious.
Shi Yao blinked. "Oops. Didn't expect that."
He exhaled slowly, then glanced down at his own palm. The green aura flickered faintly across his fingers.
"Wait… now that guy's out cold…"
His lips curved into a slight smirk.
"…That means I can finally use it."
His right hand rose.
In the next moment, a strange force pulsed out from his core—quiet at first, like a held breath.
Then the air shifted.
A current stirred around him—not wind, but something heavier. The corpses of the beasts around him twitched slightly, the faint remnants of qi within them pulled loose, like smoke dragged toward a flame.
Strands of energy—barely visible threads of pale green, violet, and silver—rose from the fallen beasts, drawn upward, spiraling toward Shi Yao's open palm.
The Heavenly Devouring Pulse Art had awakened.
The moment the energy touched his body, he staggered slightly.
Then the pain began.
It wasn't external—it was within. A crushing, grinding pressure sank into his bones, as if every piece of his skeleton was being shattered, pulled apart, and reforged from the inside.
His breath caught in his throat. He clenched his jaw, refusing to scream.
Every rib felt like it was breaking one by one, being replaced by something denser, more refined. His spine burned as qi surged through it like molten metal through hollow veins.
His knees buckled, but he stayed standing—barely.
More energy poured in, inexhaustible.
His arms trembled as his marrow itself was hollowed and filled anew. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, his vision blurring at the edges from the sheer pressure pressing against his internal channels.
But he endured.
Crack.
His right shoulder jolted. A fresh wave of qi refined the bone structure, reinforcing it.
Snap.
His ankles locked, then adjusted, the ligaments momentarily disjointing as they adapted to stronger pathways.
The aura surrounding him pulsed, no longer just green—but streaked with hints of gold and dark blue.
As the flow finally slowed, Shi Yao opened his eyes.
The pain faded, replaced by a heavy stillness. His breathing calmed, slower, deeper. Everything inside him felt denser. Tighter. Stronger.
His qi was no longer scattered—it was focused, firm, and heavy with power.
"…Foundation Establishment," he muttered, glancing down at his hand. "Layer three… no—peak of layer three."
He took one step forward.
The branch beneath his foot cracked.
He smiled.
Shi Yao exhaled slowly, the last wisps of qi settling in his veins.
His body felt lighter—effortless in motion. His vision sharpened, catching minute shifts in the leaves, the twitch of muscle from distant beasts. His internal reserves surged, more stable and expansive than before. His pulse didn't just beat—it resonated, steady and strong.
And then—movement.
Dozens of beasts lunged from all directions at once, shadows collapsing in like a wave of muscle, fang, and fury.
But they didn't even reach him.
With one subtle motion, Shi Yao stepped forward.
The next instant, the air split—silent and clean.
All the beasts froze mid-leap… then dropped in unison, bloodless lines scoring across their chests and throats.
They hit the forest floor without a sound.
Shi Yao narrowed his eyes.
"They pounced the moment I broke through," he said, voice low. "So my suspicion was right… There really is a commander above them."
His grip tightened slightly on the dagger.
"But I'm not here to play hide and seek."
He closed his eyes.
Qi pulsed outward from his body—an invisible sphere spreading in all directions. Every leaf, every shifting branch, every footstep within five meters etched itself into his perception.
A presence darted through the forest—fast, larger than the others. Not just moving... retreating.
Shi Yao's eyes snapped open.
"…Found you."
Far ahead, a massive silhouette swung between trees—a beast twice the size of the others. Matted gray fur, thick arms, long limbs. A large ape, with a crude iron bangle clamped around one wrist. It moved with purpose—clearly intelligent.
But before it could escape—
Boom!
A foot crashed into its face from the side.
The impact sent the beast spiraling mid-air, smashing through a thick line of trees. Bark exploded. Trunks splintered. The earth trembled from the crashes as it bounced and skidded through underbrush, finally slamming to a stop against a boulder.
Shi Yao stood above it, calm and cold.
"So… it was you."
The ape roared—loud, primal, echoing like a drumbeat through the canopy. The shockwaves pressed into Shi Yao's eardrums.
He didn't flinch.
In a flash, he vanished and reappeared right in front of it—one foot planted firmly atop the beast's open mouth, pinning it to the dirt.
"Why are you so loud?"
Crack!
He kicked downward.
The forest floor shook as the ape's head was slammed into the earth, scattering dust and leaves in all directions.
The beast twitched once—then fell still.
A moment later, pale threads of energy began to rise from the ape's body, spiraling toward Shi Yao's palm.
He absorbed it wordlessly—its essence dragged inward. But unlike before, the energy didn't blend into his core. It hovered inside him—coiling, dim and heavy.
Impure energy.
Unrefined, unstable. But still his.
The rest of the fallen beasts followed—faint trails rising and weaving into his body like threads pulled into a tapestry. Each strand settled deep within him, stored, waiting.
He turned.
The unconscious disciple still lay where he had fallen.
Shi Yao walked over, knelt, and lifted him onto his back with ease.