Just as John slid the mammoth's Spirit Core into his spatial bag and prepared to leave with several thick slabs of its meat, a sound echoed through the trees.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The slow, deliberate applause broke the silence like a ripple over still water.
John's eyes narrowed.
His Spatial Awareness pulsed outward, catching the presence of two people stepping through the underbrush, one radiating immense pressure, the other, controlled but watchful.
The one clapping was a young woman, no older than John himself.
She was beautiful, flawless porcelain skin, dressed in layered red-and-black robes embroidered with golden phoenix feathers.
Her long hair was tied with a silver pin shaped like a crescent moon.
Beside her stood a middle-aged man, eyes sharp and measuring, with a blade strapped across his back and a silent but palpable aura at the Spirit Seed Realm.
The girl smiled as she approached, eyes scanning the enormous beast corpse beside John, then flicking to his ragged clothes and wind-blown hair.
"Well, well. What do we have here?" she said with a lilting, almost amused tone.
"I've been watching your fight. I must say, not bad, for a savage in forest rags."
She looked him over once more, as though surprised that someone so unkempt had managed to fell a fifteen-meter mammoth.
Then she stepped forward confidently and tilted her chin.
"I'll take the beast core."
John blinked once, expression unreadable.
The girl continued as if it were already settled.
"You look exhausted. It must've taken every ounce of strength you had to take that thing down. So… why don't you hand it over before you collapse? I'd hate to get blood on my robes."
She smirked and folded her arms, like a noble addressing a street beggar.
"I'm Briana Flare of the Nine Sky Clan. You do know what that means, don't you?"
Her name dropped like a stone in still water.
The older man behind her stepped forward slightly, hand resting near his sword hilt.
His gaze scanned John cautiously.
John didn't speak.
He merely looked up, eyes calm and unblinking.
Then, with a relaxed breath, he said...
"No."
The air grew still.
Briana blinked, her confident smirk twitching into a frown.
"Excuse me?"
John didn't repeat himself.
He simply turned away, as if her presence was no more significant than a passing breeze.
That made her snap.
"Kill him," she snapped. "He's bluffing. Spirit Seed Realm or not, he's exhausted. A few strikes and he'll collapse."
The guard moved forward, but hesitated.
His eyes flickered with confusion.
"Miss Flare…" he murmured. "I… can't read his cultivation."
His brows furrowed.
"He may not be as tired as you think. I saw him dodge those Spirit Beams… He didn't slow once. And that mammoth was no ordinary Spirit Beast. He toyed with it."
Briana's face darkened.
"Are you afraid of him?" she spat.
She unsheathed a thin, glowing flying sword, the blade humming with runes.
"Then I'll do it myself."
She raised her hand, and the sword surged forward, cutting through the air toward John.
But before it could get close...
John vanished.
A sudden blur of motion tore through the air.
The sword passed harmlessly into empty space.
Briana's eyes widened as a chill breath tickled the back of her neck.
She spun, too late.
John stood behind her, calm, silent, immovable, his palm already moving in a swift arc.
A soft thwack landed on the back of her head.
Her eyes fluttered, and her body slumped forward into John's arms.
He caught her gently, then lowered her to the ground.
The guard stood frozen in place, his mouth agape.
John met his eyes, voice quiet but firm.
"Take her and leave."
The man quickly stepped forward, bowing deeply.
"Thank you… for going easy on her."
He lifted Briana's unconscious form, slinging her gently over his shoulder, and turned to leave.
Before vanishing into the woods, he turned back and said...
"I don't know who you are… but I'll make sure this doesn't reach the wrong ears."
Then they were gone, swallowed by the forest.
John exhaled and turned back to the fallen mammoth.
The sun filtered through the trees, golden and calm, as though the battle had never happened.
He looked down at the Spirit Core in his bag.
"Looks like I'll need to use my new identity sooner than I thought."
He adjusted the bag on his back and disappeared into the trees, silent as a ghost, faster than wind.
The golden light of late afternoon filtered through the canopy as John stepped back into the deep woods, his pace calm, breath steady.
A gentle breeze swept through the forest, rustling the branches overhead as if welcoming him home.
Soon, the towering ancient tree came into view, its hollow trunk nestled in a grove shrouded by ferns and thick roots.
Still hidden, still safe.
John stepped inside, brushing his hand along the curved wall of bark with a faint nod.
This was his sanctuary, his cultivation ground, the place where he'd grown stronger than he ever imagined.
Now, it was time to celebrate the hunt.
He set down the thick slabs of mammoth meat, quickly building a small fire using dry twigs and the embers he had preserved in a sealed clay pot.
As flames flickered to life, John carefully skewered the meat with sharpened branches.
Soon, the smell of rich, fatty meat filled the hollow.
The scent alone stirred his appetite.
He hadn't had beast meat of this level before, a true Spirit Beast.
His instincts told him it would do more than just fill his belly.
"Let's see what all that effort tastes like," he murmured.
The fat crackled, juices sizzling over the fire.
After a while, the meat turned golden-brown, the edges crisped perfectly. He took a bite...
Boom.
His eyes widened.
The meat was unbelievably tender, juicy, rich with natural spiritual essence.
As it slid down his throat, a surge of energy bloomed in his dantian, spreading through his limbs like a rising tide.
"This...!" he whispered, startled. "Even my Spirit Power surged!"
A smile crept across his face.
He could feel it, his core felt denser, his blood richer, and his meridians thrummed with life.
"If I eat this a few more times, I might even hit the mid-stage Spirit Seed Realm."
He devoured the rest of the roasted meat, every bite strengthening his body, polishing his foundation.
After the final strip disappeared, John leaned back, sighing in satisfaction, the warmth of fire and Qi pulsing through him.
With the beast defeated and his belly full, it was time to vanish.
John stood and took a deep breath, letting his Level 7 Double Face Lizard Technique activate.
A strange shimmer coursed over his body, as if reality itself were bending.
His bones shifted subtly, features reshaping.
His jaw softened.
His height shortened slightly.
His skin tone lightened by a shade.
His aura dimmed, suppressing the depth of his cultivation to a convincing Bone Refinement Realm.
In less than a minute, John Coral was gone.
In his place stood a youth of around eighteen years, with short black hair, a plain but clean face, and an average build.
Nothing about him would stand out in a crowd, exactly as planned.
He looked at his hands, flexing his fingers.
Then he looked at his reflection in the blade of the bandit's sword, smiling faintly.
"Perfect. Now... I'm just another nameless cultivator looking for work."
He pulled a worn cloak from his bag and wrapped it around himself, stepping outside once more into the dawn.
"Let's see what this world has to offer now."
And with that, he vanished into the woods, anonymity wrapped around him like armor, his real strength hidden beneath the surface.
The forest thinned gradually as John crossed over the hilly path leading to the outskirts of Nine Sky Clan.
The gates stood tall in the distance, their jade-inlaid arches flanked by iron statues of twin dragons.
Banners fluttered in the breeze, and cultivators passed by in long flowing robes, their swords gleaming under the afternoon sun.
John, now unrecognizable in appearance
and aura, walked calmly among them, his presence no more striking than a breeze.
He adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, casting brief glances around.
The bustling streets were alive with familiar sights, wandering merchants, swordsmith stalls, groups of disciples laughing outside tea pavilions.
He took it all in with quiet eyes.
"It hasn't changed at all…" he muttered. "But I have."
As he turned a corner toward the city square, a line of bulletin boards caught his eye.
People gathered around them, murmuring and pointing.
John drifted closer, careful not to draw attention.
There, nailed to the board with crimson wax, was a wanted poster, with his old face sketched in vivid detail.
The lines weren't perfect, but his piercing gaze and sharp jawline were captured well enough to be unmistakable to anyone who'd seen him before.
Above it, in bold gold script:
"WANTED: DEAD or ALIVE — JOHN CORAL"
Crimes: Murder of Blue Sapphire Elite Guard Captain Fatmaster, Lieutenant Giant Sorrow, and Ten Clan Soldiers.
REWARD: 500 SPIRIT STONES
His eyes narrowed.
He stood there for a moment, unmoving.
"So… they really are going all out," he murmured.
500 spirit stones. That was a bounty worthy of a sect traitor or demon cultivator.
He stepped back from the board with a sigh.
"Can't say they're wrong. I did kill all of them."
He continued on, passing through the crowd unnoticed.
The weight of those deaths didn't press on him, but the knowledge that others would come did.
The setting sun cast long shadows as John turned onto a quieter street.
Soon, he was standing in front of a familiar structure, a building made of redwood and dark jade tiles.
Nine Sky Inn.
The last time he came here, he was bruised, bloodied, and half-starved.
Now, he walked in with calm steps, disguised as a youthful traveler with humble roots and average talent.
At the reception stood a different girl this time, older, with her hair tied in a bun and jade earrings glittering in the lamplight.
She looked up as he approached, then offered a polite nod.
"Welcome to Nine Sky Inn. Do you need a room for the night?"
John nodded. "One night for now."
"Ten gold coins," she said with a soft smile.
John casually placed a spirit stone on the table.
The receptionist's eyes twitched slightly, but she recovered quickly and handed him a room token.
"Fifth floor, room twenty-three."
John took the token and walked up the familiar stairway.
His steps were quiet, almost reverent.
Soon, he opened the door to his room.
It was exactly the same: antique furnishings, soft lighting, and a wide window overlooking the market below.
He dropped his bag onto the bed and walked to the window, gazing out at the lanterns being lit across the city.
He let out a slow breath.
"Back again."
He closed the shutters gently, locking them in place.