Mei Xuan moved like a shadow beside him.
Shen Zian had to admit—she was as skilled as she claimed. After stabilizing her clashing cores using his corpse flame as a buffer, her movements had regained fluidity, and her spiritual perception sharpened to near his own. She wasn't at peak strength, but she no longer teetered on collapse.
And now, she guided him through the narrow serpent paths of the southern ravines—once used by smugglers and rogue disciples of fringe sects. The old world was still here, buried beneath roots and whispers.
Zian inhaled. The air tasted different here.
Copper.
Rot.
Power.
"We're close," Mei said, halting atop a jagged rock outcrop.
Before them lay a wide basin carved into the earth—a natural formation stained red by the mineral-rich soil and… something deeper.
Zian narrowed his eyes.
"That's not just iron in the ground."
"No," Mei said. "That's Blood-Tide Valley."
The name sparked recognition. He had read about it once in a forbidden tome inside the Shen Clan's sealed archive.
Centuries ago, a demonic beast horde had fought a coalition of human sects here. The battle had lasted three days and three nights, and by the end, over ten thousand cultivators and beasts had perished.
The valley had become a cursed ground.
But also—ripe with spiritual remnants.
"You brought us to a battlefield of the dead," Zian muttered.
"No safer place," Mei replied with a crooked grin. "No sect dares come near it."
Zian closed his eyes and extended his senses.
The air rippled with residual qi—corrupted, tangled, and fused with death intent. It was as if the souls of fallen cultivators and beasts still lingered, caught between realms.
His corpse flame flared on its own.
It wanted to feed.
No, Zian thought. Not yet. Too unstable.
But deeper still—beneath the soil and bone—he felt a call. Something awake, something aware.
"There's something here," he said aloud.
Mei nodded. "I know. I came here once before—alone. Fled the moment I touched the basin's center. The ground screamed."
Zian's eyes gleamed. "Then we dig."
They didn't have to dig far.
The moment Zian's corpse flame touched the basin floor, a ripple burst outward—red mist curling into tendrils. The soil shifted, pulling back in folds like skin peeled from muscle.
Beneath, a hidden tomb gate emerged—not man-made, but beast-shaped. A colossal skull engraved into the earth, fangs like broken monoliths. One eye socket still glowed faintly.
"This is…" Mei's voice faltered.
"Ancient beast burial grounds," Zian said, awestruck. "Not just beasts. Sacred beasts. The kind the heavens once feared."
He approached the skull gate. Carved into its brow was a single sigil—formed of ancient beast runes interlaced with corpse-binding script.
He didn't need translation.
"Only those who walk both paths may enter," he whispered.
He pressed his hand against it.
The gate pulsed once.
Then, it opened.
Inside was a vast subterranean cavern, lit by clusters of blood-hued crystals and bones infused with glowing qi veins. Dozens of skeletal remains—some larger than buildings—lined the cavern's edges, resting in ritual patterns.
But what dominated the chamber was the altar at its center.
Upon it rested a single object:
A Blood-Etched Fang—long as a man's arm, forged not from metal but crystallized beast marrow. Qi bled from it in pulses. Each pulse contained memories, echoes… and sorrow.
Zian approached cautiously.
The Fang pulsed in response, and suddenly—
He wasn't alone in his mind.
Vision
He stood in a storm of claws and lightning. Beasts howled around him—celestial foxes, storm lions, winged serpents. Leading them was a massive, blood-scaled wolf with eyes like molten gold.
"You… have inherited our pain," the wolf said.
"Are you devourer, or restorer?"
Zian clenched his fists. "I am what they tried to bury."
"Then claim my Fang," the beast said.
"But understand—what you claim must be fed. With qi. With blood. With purpose."
The vision collapsed.
Zian stood once more at the altar.
The Fang floated now, humming with resonance. He reached out—
—and it fused into his right forearm like liquid bone, embedding itself beneath the skin. Veins turned crimson for a breath. The corpse flame flared violently.
Then, silence.
A new technique bloomed in his mind:
Blood-Fang Extraction – First Rite: Predator's Grasp
It would allow him to draw bloodline essence from any slain beast and weaponize it—short bursts of borrowed traits, faster and cleaner than Beast-Fused Binding.
He breathed heavily.
He wasn't just taming beasts now.
He was inheriting them.
Behind him, Mei watched quietly.
"You're changing again," she said.
He didn't reply.
Instead, he turned toward the exit.
"Rest tonight," Zian said. "Tomorrow, we go east. I need more cores. More bloodlines."
Mei raised an eyebrow. "Why east?"
Zian's eyes narrowed.
"Because that's where the Spirit-Taming Tournament will be held. Hidden realm gates. Rare beasts. Unawakened cores."
"And…" he added coldly, "…Shen Liang will be there."