By the ti he returned to the cave, dusk was settling in.
The trees rustled in the soft wind, their long shadows dancing along the rocky walls.
The faint orange light of the setting sun bled through the gaps in the leaves above, casting an amber hue across the floor.
John dropped the fresh rabbit at by the firepit and glanced at the small pile of weapons and leather bags he had looted from the bandits.
They sat like forgotten corpses, useless now, no longer wielded by the hands that once threatened him.
"They were stupid," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.
"Too loud, too reckless... too confident."
He sighed, not out of pity, but reflection.
In this world, one mont of arrogance was all it took to die.
They had learned that the hard way.
He quickly skinned and cleaned the rabbit, piercing its at with wooden skewers and setting them over the fire.
The rich scent filled the cave again, and with each crackle of fla, his body slowly relaxed.
After devouring the al in silence, he wiped his hands on his trousers and stood up, eyes focusing.
There was no ti to waste.
Power was the only currency that mattered here.
Crossing his legs, he sat down in the far corner of the cave, his back to the wall, and drew in a slow, deep breath.
Then, with practiced precision, he began cultivating the Slow Toad Breathing Skill.
Ti passed.
The days blurred into nights.
Nights into weeks.
The wind outside changed its tune.
The moon waxed and waned.
The forest grew quieter.
He only left the cave to drink, hunt, or stretch his muscles, every other mont was spent honing his breathing, refining his control, mastering the flow of energy that coursed through his marrow.
Then, on the thirty-second day, sothing shifted.
John’s eyes snapped open, and for a long mont, he didn’t move.
The energy in his body no longer trickled, it surged.
His bones humd.
His muscles felt lighter, but packed with more strength.
Every breath felt like lightning being drawn into his lungs, pulsing through his veins like rivers of raw power.
A slow, genuine smile curled his lips.
"Finally... I broke through to Marrow Refinent."
His voice echoed softly inside the cave.
For the first ti in weeks, it sounded proud.
He opened his System Panel with a thought.
---
[System Panel]
Na: John Coral
Age: 24
Cultivation: Marrow Refining Realm (1/800)
Upgrade Slot: Slow Toad Breathing Skill (Level 8) — (4200/12800)
(Upgrading at 1 point per 6 minutes)
Skills:
ditation (Level 6 – Max)
Breathing (Level 5 – Max)
Spatial Awareness (Level 5)
Slow Toad Breathing Skill (Level 8)
---
Seeing the words before him, John couldn’t help but clench his fists.
The strength flowing through his limbs was unlike anything he’d felt before.
"If I t those bandits again..." he whispered with a smirk, "I could probably beat them all in less than a minute."
He stood and flexed his arms, rotating his shoulders.
Even his breath felt different, more grounded, more efficient, more powerful.
"The gap between Bone Refinent and Marrow Refinent is wider than I thought," he muttered, stepping outside the cave into the crisp morning air.
And then he ran.
He darted through the forest like a shadow, his speed blinding, leaves and twigs blurring beneath his feet.
Birds scattered from trees.
A fox leapt from a bush in panic.
Each stride covered ters.
His balance was flawless, footsteps whisper-quiet despite the velocity.
"It’s all thanks to the Slow Toad Breathing Skill," he murmured as he stopped atop a boulder, looking out over the misty forest below.
"It’s ant to boost stamina and reaction speed, but at Level Seven, I’m faster than most who’ve reached Marrow Refinent with it."
He took a deep breath, and the air felt cool and clean in his lungs.
Even his spatial awareness had sharpened, every small vibration, every distant chirp, every flutter of leaves registered in his mind like pieces of a grand map.
For the first ti in months, he felt confident.
Not just a survivor.
A true cultivator.
To celebrate, he tracked and hunted a pair of wild boars, brought them back, and spent the afternoon roasting the thick at over the fire.
The al was rich, full of fat and flavor, and as the sun dipped below the tree line once more, John leaned back against the cave wall, savoring the victory of progress.
But just as he was about to close his eyes and enter another ditative state...
A noise.
Faint, but sharp.
A crackling branch.
A shifting shadow.
John’s eyes opened.
He tilted his head slightly, still as stone, and listened.
Then, another voice.
Muffled.
Human.
There was a commotion outside the cave.
His expression darkened.
"Soone’s here," he murmured, standing up.
His hand reached for the sword leaning by the wall.
Muscles tensed.
Breathing slowed.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t an animal.
He paused, his breathing quiet, and imdiately activated his Level 5 Spatial Awareness.
Like ripples in a pond, the world expanded outward in his mind, twenty ters in all directions.
Footsteps. Crunching twigs. Muffled voices. The cold whisper of steel being drawn.
Ten of them.
Approaching from different angles.
An ambush.
He rose silently, eyes glinting in the firelight. His fingers curled around the hilt of his sword. His back tensed.
Blue robes. Spears. Blades. And one man—a towering brute, half a head taller than the rest—carried a giant iron hamr on his back like it weighed nothing.
John’s eyes darkened.
Blue Sapphire Clan.
The ten figures stepped into the clearing surrounding his cave, weapons gleaming, faces grim.
At the center stood the hulking man, muscles bulging beneath his robes, veins like steel cords running along his forearms.
His jaw was square, his eyes sunken and full of fury.
"You." the man growled, voice like rolling thunder. "So this is where the coward hides."
John didn’t move. "Coward? That’s rich coming from a man who brought nine others with him."
The brute stepped forward, slamming the butt of his hamr on the ground with a deep thud. "You killed my brother," he spat. "Fatmaster."
A ripple of recognition crossed John’s face. "Ah," he murmured. "So that walking lump of lard had family."
The man’s eyes flared.
"I am Giant Sorrow. You’ll rember that na as the last thing you ever hear. Fatmaster may have been cruel, but he was my blood—and I will crush you for what you did!"
The others fanned out, weapons raised.
Two of them crackled with inner energy Bone Refinent realm cultivators. The rest pulsed with slightly weaker auras Skin Refinent.
John clicked his tongue.
"Ten on one. How noble of the Blue Sapphire Clan."
Giant Sorrow sneered. "Your tombstone will read ’butchered like a pig.’ That’s more than you deserve."
John exhaled slowly, focusing his breath, feeling the Slow Toad Breathing Skill circulate powerfully through every fiber of his being.
He crouched slightly, every muscle poised to strike.
"Let’s see if you can live up to the na," he muttered.
And then he moved.
A blur.
Before the first Skin Refinent martial artist could blink, John’s blade carved a clean arc through his throat.
Blood sprayed as the man collapsed.
"He’s fast!" one of the others yelled, thrusting a spear.
John twisted sideways, barely an inch from the point, and struck with his elbow—snapping the attacker’s neck with a sickening crack.
The forest exploded into chaos.
Blades clashed. Spears stabbed.
The night lit with furious shouts and snarls of pain.
John dodged and parried, his Spatial Awareness keeping him one step ahead, his Breathing Skill fueling his endless stamina.
He weaved through strikes like a phantom, striking vital points with ruthless efficiency.
But they kept coming.
One Bone Refinent enemy charged from behind, slashing wildly with twin machetes.
John blocked the first strike, dodged the second, but the third tore a shallow line across his ribs.
He grunted and retaliated with a heavy roundhouse kick that shattered the man’s jaw and sent him sprawling.
Giant Sorrow roared.
"You think that’s enough, brat?! DIE!"
The massive man barreled forward, swinging his hamr with terrifying speed.
The first strike hit the ground where John had stood a second ago, shattering the earth.
The shockwave nearly unbalanced him, but he flipped back.
"You’ve got so power," John said, panting, "but you’re slow."
"SLOW?!" the giant howled, and ca again.
Their weapons t, blade against hamr, and the clash sent a wave of force through the clearing.
John tried to dodge, but a feint caught him, and Giant Sorrow’s hamr slamd into his back.
A sickening crack echoed.
John hit the ground, coughing blood. Ribs broken.
"I’ll grind your bones, thief!" the brute yelled.
John forced himself up, legs shaking, eyes narrowed.
Even with the pain, even with blood soaking through his robe, he was not done.
"Fatmaster... was a monster," he spat. "You’re just another one wearing his skin."
Then, with a cry, he launched himself forward, every muscle screaming, every instinct firing.
The fight resud, blood and fire, fury and steel.
Two more dropped.
Then another. And another.
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