The ascension was arduous and unforgiving. The lower world's qi was sparse and coarse, far from the rich, flowing currents of the Ancestral Realm, and his new body, though vigorous, resisted the unaccustomed burden of cultivation, like a wild horse unbroken to the bit. This initial recalcitrance would diminish with time, as his meridians widened and his cultivation base solidified, but for now, he had to contend with it. The village was situated in forbidding lands, bereft of readily available cultivation resources, a stark desert for a fledgling cultivator. He had diligently sought even the lowest tier of spiritual sustenance—common herbs, low-grade spirit stones—but found none. He desperately needed to discover resources to accelerate his growth, to mend the damage inflicted by the coin, and to build a foundation that would withstand the trials to come. With this resolve firm in his mind, he decided to await nightfall before embarking from the village, a silent departure so as not to cause undue worry. He left a simple note, assuring the villagers not to fret, that he was venturing forth to explore the world, and would return to share his exploits, asking them to anticipate his homecoming. A convenient lie for their simple hearts. His path now was one of solitude and danger.
Mu Yan extended his spirit, patiently discerning the subtle concentrations of spirit qi beyond the village's periphery, pushing the nascent boundaries of his internal spiritual perception. He scanned for fluctuations across a hundred-mile radius, his mind a detailed map of invisible energy currents. Finally, a hundred miles north, deep within the ancient, sprawling forest, he detected a faint increase in spirit qi density. The elevation was almost imperceptible, easily overlooked by an ordinary individual, a mere flicker in the vast emptiness. However, given his vast knowledge and profound experience, Mu Yan was able to discern this minute shift, a whisper of promise in the barren lands. A faint glimmer, but a glimmer, nonetheless. It is enough to start. Before venturing further, he needed to make some final preparations. As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, he resolved to conclude his day. He ascended a sturdy tree with ample space to settle in, pulled out dried meat he had preserved earlier, and chewed thoughtfully, his mind already calculating the quickest, safest route. As he contemplated his next course of action, a distinct rustling in the underbrush below caught his attention, a sound that was too deliberate, too heavy to be a mere animal.
The rustle intensified, escalating into a guttural snarl that vibrated through the very trunk Mu Yan was perched upon. A hulking silhouette materialized from the encroaching gloom below—a massive black bear, its eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. Its fur was matted and coarse, its claws like honed daggers, and a low, resonant growl rumbled from its throat. This was no chance encounter; this was a territorial behemoth, or perhaps, simply a predator seeking its next meal.
Mu Yan's heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the stark reality of his mortal form. He was no longer the omnipotent cultivator of his past life; he was vulnerable, raw, and internally wounded from his earlier gamble. The bear reared up, a towering, dark monolith against the last vestiges of twilight, unleashing a deafening roar that ripped through the stillness of the forest. It was a crucible of his wits, a brutal and immediate reminder of his current frailties.
He swiftly appraised his meagre resources. His spirit, still in recovery, felt like a flickering flame, and his body was weak. Matching brute force with brute force was suicide. He scanned the forest floor, his sharp eyes pinpointing a scattering of fist-sized stones. Overhead, thick, sturdy vines snaked between the ancient branches. A desperate plan, perhaps, but his only viable one.