Jian Feng led toward a quiet stretch of snow-covered land near the village's northern edge, just past the periter where patrols made their rounds. A small rise in the earth broke the otherwise flat terrain, marked only by a faint discoloration in the snow and a few scattered rocks. It wasn’t far from where the Black Tiger had fallen months ago.
“This is the place,” he said, stopping and gesturing to the patch of frozen ground. “We harvested its core, hide, and fangs. The rest… it was too massive to drag back, and too dangerous to leave out in the open. So we buried it.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
Jian Feng nodded, his breath curling into the cold air. “I’ll resu patrol. Call if anything happens.”
He turned and vanished into the trees with the practiced silence of soone who'd spent years moving through danger. I was left alone with the cold and what I was about to dig up.
I stabbed the shovel into the ground. The earth barely gave way. The ground was still more like stone than soil over here.
I frowned at the wooden handle in my grip.
Cultivators in the Essence Awakening Stage could infuse their weapons and armor with qi. It wasn’t just about the power you have, it was about your control of it too. Using your qi as a conduit to carry force through an object. I'd known that it required a certain cultivation threshold to even attempt, but...
I wasn’t that far off, was I?
My body and mind had both reached the fourth rank of Qi Initiation. My reserves were vast, already a step into the first rank of Essence Awakening. I was close to the next tier.
Xu Ziqing already showed he was proficient with infusing his blade with qi. I'd seen it clearly in battle, and he surely wasn't at the Essence Awakening stage, although certainly not far behind. And if soone like Jingyu Lian could use advanced alchemical arrays despite her low cultivation… then maybe this wasn’t impossible either.
I took a breath and closed my eyes.
My qi moved easily now, as familiar to as breath or heartbeat. I directed it toward my palm, down my wrist, and into the shovel.
The mont my qi reached the point where my hand t the shaft, it dispersed. It unraveled like cloth caught on thorns.
I opened my eyes and frowned.
Too forceful. I’d tried to push it through like a battering ram.
I steadied my breath and tried again. Slower this ti. I pictured the way I infused plants, how I coaxed qi into the root systems and stems to encourage growth. But this wasn’t a seedling. This wasn’t sothing alive. It wasn’t about nourishing, it was about channeling.
With plants, it was a one-ti infusion. This would have to be constant.
I adjusted the flow. More rigid. More direct. I visualized the shovel as an extension of myself; like a third arm. Not just sothing I held, but sothing I was using as a focus.
This ti, the qi held.
A faint shimr coated the tal. Barely visible, but I could feel it—like the air had thickened around the blade.
I plunged it into the ground.
The soil gave way like warm butter. The hardened frost cracked beneath the edge, and the blade sank deeper than it had any right to.
I began to dig.
The work was swift after that. Each motion clean, efficient. Earth peeled away in broad scoops, curling in black, frost-slicked clumps. Steam rose from the exposed hole as my infused strikes disturbed the layers of cold.
After a few minutes, I struck sothing different.
Flesh.
I cleared the area quickly, hands moving on instinct. The shape slowly erged: a massive torso, larger than I rembered, the fur matted and stiff, streaked with old blood and dirt. Its body, while half-decayed, still radiated a heaviness. A presence. Even in death, it was overwhelming.
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The Black Tiger.
Its body was nearly three tis my size. Limbs thick with muscle, claws as long as my forearm. One side of the chest had collapsed inward where the final blow must’ve landed, and snow had packed itself into the wound. But the rest had been preserved by winter and sheer durability.
It hadn’t decomposed properly.
The soil must've not been enough.
Too tough. Too saturated with qi. If it was alive, it would've been in the Essence Awakening Stage, just like Tianyi. Maybe even higher. I could feel the ghost of its power, lingering in its corpse like the scent of smoke in the air after a fire.
I looked down at the shovel still humming with my qi. Then back at the body.
I tightened my grip on the shovel once more and stepped forward.
After a few hours, I made my way back with the final load, my shoulders aching from the strain of dragging and lifting. Most of the Black Tiger was reduced to manageable chunks now; if anything that massive could be considered manageable. I’d separated the at from the bones, packed what I could into coarse cloth wraps, and sealed the rest in tightly lashed sacks.
But now ca the hard part.
I crouched beside the bundles just outside my workshop, catching my breath. My hands were stiff, my robes stained with blood.
The stench was worse than I expected.
Not just rot. Corruption.
Demonic qi still lingered, clinging to the sinew and marrow. So parts of the beast had already rotted through, black veins threading through muscle like moldy roots. I couldn’t just throw all this into my garden and hope for the best. Too much nutrient would kill seedlings just as fast as too little. And if even a trace of that lingering corruption remained, it would poison the entire bed.
I grimaced and began sorting.
The gallbladder I set aside imdiately—no way was that going into the soil. Likely packed with toxins even before the tiger had been corrupted. A few other organs were too far gone, bloated and discolored beyond recognition. I set those aside as well, marking them for incineration.
The bones, though...
Those I could work with. I’d grind them down later, refine them in the pill furnace. Bone al always made good base fertilizer, but I’d need to be thorough. Any corruption in the marrow and I’d be risking everything I’d built.
I turned back to the at.
It was dark. Dense. Too dense. I poked one piece with the tip of my finger and felt how rubbery it was. The cold had preserved it, yes, but it wasn’t just cold. It was toughness. Strength that resisted even in death.
I ignited a fla in my palm, watching the familiar golden-orange flicker of the Heavenly Fla Mantra bloom to life. The heat surged through my arm, focused and clean. Not scorching, but searing.
But then… I hesitated.
I couldn’t just cook this. Not like at over a fire.
I needed to refine it. Break it down slowly, without turning it to ash. If I incinerated the flesh, it would leave nothing behind—no nutrients, no essence, no purpose. I had to extract the usefulness while purging the rot. Eliminate the demonic trace without losing everything else.
My gaze drifted toward the light pouring outside of my ho, where the Two Star Pagoda Pill furnace was.
It was tempting. It had precise controls. Low-heat functions. Perfect for a slow refinent. But…
The thought of boiling this corpse-at in the sa cauldron I used to brew breakfast stew tomorrow morning wasn't very appealing.
With a sigh, I focused instead on my palm, reducing the heat until it was just shy of blistering; like holding a brand in your hand, just long enough to burn, not to destroy.
I took a chunk of at and pressed it gently into my palm.
The sizzle was imdiate.
The sll hit like a hamr.
Acrid. Sour. Like burned blood and rotted fat. It made my stomach twist violently. I held the at steady, watching as the outer layer blackened and shriveled, bubbling as congealed blood seared away. Bits of black corruption hissed and curled, flaking off in greasy strands. Even without the aid of the Essence Purifying Elixir, my flas were enough to rid the at of lingering corruption.
I fought the urge to gag.
My fingers tightened involuntarily. This wasn't just disgusting. It was familiar.
Too familiar.
The hiss of burning flesh, the scent of cooked blood... it was the sa as when I slamd my fla-coated palm into the neck of a demonic cultist. When I killed him.
The mory rose, unbidden. His noiseless scream. The sll that clung to my robes afterward. Of burnt flesh and bile.
I dropped the at with a dry heave, stumbling back, hand shaking. I bent forward, bracing myself on my knees.
I clenched my jaw, forcing whatever was in my throat back down.
The door to the house swung open quietly, soft footsteps padding toward through the cold evening air. Tianyi erged first, her eyes wide with concern. Windy slithered closely behind, his scales gleaming faintly in the lantern light from the doorway.
“Kai?” Tianyi’s voice was gentle. “Are you okay?”
I straightened, swallowing hard to steady my stomach. “I’m alright,” I said quietly. “Just… rembering things.”
For a mont, silence hung between us, punctuated only by the faint crackle of my fading fla. I glanced at them, realizing how difficult it would be to explain. To Tianyi and Windy, beings born beyond human conventions, killing was natural. Easy, even. But before I could finish that thought, I stopped myself, shaking my head slightly.
No, that was wrong. To think that way was to underestimate their ability to understand.
“I don’t like it,” I admitted softly. “Killing, fighting… blood. It’s scary. And I’m afraid that I’ll have to do it again, no matter how much I hate it.”
My voice wavered slightly, but I steadied it, feeling vulnerable yet sohow relieved. “But I know I have to. Because if I don’t, I can’t protect anyone.”
Tianyi nodded thoughtfully, her antennae swaying gently. “I don’t like it either,” she said, her voice quiet yet certain. “Even if it’s necessary. But I will do it if it ans protecting you and the garden.”
Windy let out a low, gentle hiss, his tail flicking slightly. A pulse of emotion passed through the telepathic bond we shared. I felt its aning more than heard it.
Tianyi tilted her head, translating softly for the serpent. “Windy says... life feeds on death. Eat what you kill, and kill if sothing tries to eat you.”
I blinked at the simplicity and depth of the sentint, remaining quiet as I turned it over in my mind. They were right, each in their own way. There was no easy path, no painless choice. Life was brutal and gentle at once, interwoven in ways impossible to fully untangle.
After a pause, I nodded gratefully. “Thank you. Both of you. I’ll keep it in mind.”
I glanced at the cold, darkening sky and shivered slightly. “You two should go back inside where it’s warm. I’ll be finished soon.”
But they didn’t move. Instead, Tianyi crouched carefully on the fence post, her wings folding neatly around her, while Windy coiled comfortably around her shoulder. Both of them watched , quiet and patient.
“We will guard you while you work,” she said simply.
Windy hissed softly in agreent, the faint ripple of his emotions brushing against my mind; steady, watchful, protective.
I blinked at them, a small smile tugging at the edge of my lips. “Suit yourself.”
I turned back toward the pile and lit my palm once more. The golden-orange fla of the Heavenly Fla Mantra surged back to life, its warmth cutting through the chill.
The work began again.
I picked up another slab of at, this one marbled with strange, fibrous sinew. I pressed it into the fla. The outer layer blistered, hissed, and peeled away as the demonic rot shriveled under the heat. A foul stench filled the air, thick and nauseating. My stomach clenched. I didn’t flinch this ti, but it was still horrible.
It wasn’t easier. But… it was easier to bear.
I couldn’t explain why, not in words. There was sothing in the way Tianyi’s soft blue glow reflected in the snow, in the steady pulse of Windy’s coiled warmth just beyond reach. A quiet presence behind , watching without judgnt. I wasn’t doing this alone.
I seared another piece, scraping off the blackened skin. I wiped my palm, adjusted the heat, and started again. The work was slow, steady, thodical.
Then, after several minutes, Windy flicked his tongue, as though tasting the air. He let out a small hiss.
Tianyi’s antennae twitched.
She flapped her wings to get my attention. “Windy wants to know if he’s allowed to eat so of the at, or…?”
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