The girl remained on the log, the strange grey robe wrapped tightly around her. Her breathing had steadied, the raw edge of panic smoothed by the cultivator's calm intervention and the robe's faint, comforting scent of sandalwood and dried sage. She traced a rough stitch on the sleeve, a mundane detail that anchored her. She did not leave. Some instinct, deeper than fear, told her to wait. Her eyes stayed fixed on the dense wall of foliage where the young man had disappeared, as if her gaze could will him back safely.
---
Six hundred meters away, Han Li moved like a ghost through the dappled gloom. He pressed his back against the thick, gnarled bark of an ancient ironwood tree, stilling his breath and circulating his Qi inward, masking his presence. He cast his spiritual sense outward in a continuous, rippling wave.
Nothing. Nothing but moss, rot, and the low hum of insect life.
Then, on the far edge of his two-kilometer range, a new signature bloomed—a dense, cold, azure knot of spiritual power, moving with a slow, deliberate confidence. It was coming his way.
Found you.
He didn't wait. Pushing off the tree, he became a streak of azure himself, using the Swift Lightning Steps not for distance, but for explosive, short-range bursts between trunks. In less than ten seconds, he emerged into a small, rocky clearing by a stream and found his quarry.
The senior's description had not done it justice.
The Spirit-Shell Crab was the size of a bull, its carapace a mesmerizing, vicious cerulean that seemed to drink the forest light. Each of its eight legs was as thick as Han Li's thigh, ending in points that dug deep into the soft earth. But its weapons were its claws. Two monstrous pincers, each larger than a ploughshare, moved with a hydraulic, silent grace. Their inner edges were not merely sharp; they were serrated ridges of crystalline blue chitin that glinted with a cruel, razor-like light. The air around them crackled faintly with contained force—a pinch that promised not just cutting, but utter obliteration.
Senior, how could a demon beast of this caliber end up in the Xu Kingdom? Han Li thought, a thread of disbelief weaving through his focus.
"You brat, less thinking, more fighting! It is aggressive and fast—"
The senior's mental warning was cut off.
The crab's stalked eyes, glowing with malevolent intelligence, swiveled and locked onto Han Li. Without a sound, its massive body tensed. A sphere of condensed, watery blue energy—the size of a human head—coalesced between its claws and fired.
It wasn't fast. It was instant.
Han Li's body reacted before his mind could. He threw himself sideways in a desperate, graceless dive. The blue sphere missed him by a hair's breadth, its passage sucking the air from his lungs. It struck an oak tree behind him with a sound like a giant bell being struck once, then silenced.
THOOM.
Han Li rolled to his feet and looked back. Where the sphere had hit, there was now a perfectly smooth, circular hole tunneled straight through four feet of solid trunk. Sunlight shone through the other side. No splinters, no cracks. Just… removal.
His heart jolted like it had been struck by thunder. This wasn't a beast; it was a force of nature.
No time.
Gritting his teeth, Han Li summoned his weapons. With a flash of spiritual light, his prized set of Four Yang Swords appeared—four long, slender blades of forged spirit steel, their edges now sheathed in the vibrant orange flames of his Fireball Technique. They hovered around him, reflecting the deadly blue of the crab.
"Go!" he shouted, and the swords shot forward like flaming arrows, aimed at the joints between the crab's leg and body.
Clang! Screech!
The crab didn't retreat. It moved with shocking speed, its pincers becoming a blur of blue. One, two, three, four—each flaming sword was intercepted mid-air. The pincers didn't parry them; they caught them. With a series of deafening metallic crunches, the high-grade spirit steel blades were snapped like dry twigs, their flames snuffing out into wisps of smoke. The broken shards fell to the forest floor, their spiritual glow dying.
"What?!" Han Li's mental cry was pure shock. "Senior, my high-grade artifacts!"
"Fool! This is no common Spirit-Shell Crab! It's a Claw-Diamond Cdab ! Its claws are tempered by water and earth essence ! They are the strongest natural material in the lower realm for its grade! Not just your artifact are useless against them, but even a sprit artifact!Aim for the carapace! Its life force is anchored there—the shell is tough, but the connective tissue beneath is sensitive! You must pierce through!"
The crab, as if understanding it was being discussed, charged. It was terrifyingly fast for its size, a blue avalanche of chitin and rage.
Han Li didn't have better weapons. He summoned his last set: a "Mother-Child" dagger set. A single, heavier "Mother" blade, and five smaller, faster "Child" daggers. He sent the children swirling around him in a defensive, humming circle, then launched himself forward, Mother blade leading a desperate thrust aimed at the center of the crab's blue dome.
The crab's intelligence was its most frightening weapon. It read his intent. Instead of meeting the blade with a claw, it pivoted with impossible agility and its broad, spiked tail—a weapon Han Li hadn't even noted—swung around in a devastating arc.
WHUMP!
The tail connected with Han Li's side. The impact felt like being hit by a runaway wagon. His hastily reinforced Qi shield shattered. He heard a sickening crack from a rib. The world spun as he was launched through the air, crashing through a thicket of ferns and slamming into another tree trunk ten feet away.
Guh! A mouthful of hot, coppery blood sprayed from his lips, painting the moss red. Pain, bright and fierce, erupted in his side. The dappled light swam above him.
This… is too terrifying. It's not just strong… it's a tactician.
"Stop gawking! Get up!" the senior's voice was a lash. "Throw the Child daggers at its eyes! Blind it! Then, with the Mother blade, put everything you have into one strike on the same spot on the shell! Be perfect! In battles like this, death is decided in one move! Stop being lazy! GO!"
Lazy? The accusation burned through the pain. Han Li forced Qi to his injured side, a temporary, painful seal. He shoved himself up.
The crab was advancing, its claws raised for a final, scissoring cut.
Now.
Han Li's spirit flared. The five Child daggers, which had fallen around him, glowed and shot up. He didn't aim with his hands; he aimed with his will, his spiritual sense guiding each like a separate extension of his fury. They streaked towards the crab's stalked eyes in a deadly fan.
The crab reacted, dodging with a jerk of its head. Three daggers whistled past, embedding themselves in trees. Two found their mark.
SQUELCH! THUNK!
Twin sprays of viscous, dark fluid erupted. A sound that was not a roar, but a deep, grating SKREEEEEEE—! of pure, ultrasonic agony shattered the forest silence. Birds for miles took flight in a panicked cloud. The crab went mad, whirling, its claws and tail lashing out blindly. Trees twice as thick as a man were sheared clean through or smashed into pulp, crashing down around it in a thunderous cacophony.
Its vision is gone. Its coordination is shattered. Now!
Ignoring the screaming pain in his ribs, Han Li gathered all his remaining Qi—from his dantian, from his meridians, from the very cells of his Body Refinement Tier 9 physique. He became a bolt of focused intent.
He leaped, not at the crab, but at a falling tree trunk. He kicked off it, changing trajectory in mid-air, and descended from above like a striking hawk, the Mother blade held in a two-handed grip, every ounce of his strength, weight, and spiritual energy driven down into the point.
The blade, glowing white-hot with concentrated force, struck the center of the crab's blue carapace.
CRACK-CRIIIIICK!
A sound like splitting mountain rock. The incredibly tough shell fractured, a spider web of lines radiating from the point of impact. Han Li didn't stop. He pushed, his muscles straining, his Qi screaming. The blade sunk in, up to the hilt.
"THE CHILDREN! NOW!" the senior roared in his mind.
Gasping, Han Li released his spiritual grip on the two daggers still stuck in the crab's eyes. With a wrenching effort of will, he commanded them to burrow downward, through the soft tissue behind the eyes, deep into the creature's vital channels.
The crab's convulsions reached a fever pitch, then suddenly seized. Its legs stiffened. The mighty claws, which could snap spirit steel, opened once, twice, then fell limp. The glowing menace in its remaining eye faded into a dull, lifeless blue. With a final, shuddering sigh that rustled the leaves, the colossal blue form settled, unmoving, into the churned and ruined earth.
Silence returned, heavier than before.
Han Li stood on the crab's shell, swaying, the Mother blade still in his hands. Then his legs gave out. He slid off the carcass and landed on his knees, breathing in huge, ragged gulps of air that tasted of blood, damp soil, and ozone.
Deep. Breath. Peace.
It was over.
For several minutes, he just sat there, cross-legged amidst the destruction, feeling the frantic hammering of his heart slow to a steady, weary rhythm. The adrenaline receded, leaving the full, throbbing agony of his injuries in its wake.
With practiced motions, he recalled his spiritual tools. The Child daggers, slick with demonic ichor, flew back to him. He cleaned and sheathed them with the Mother blade. Then, drawing a simple dagger from his boot, he approached the carcass.
The carapace, even dead, was formidable. He worked at the softer underside, finally cutting an opening. From within, he extracted a pulsating, crystalline core the size of a goose egg. It glowed with a serene, deep blue light, cool to the touch, humming with dense spiritual energy of the water element. A Tier-1 Demon Core.
He stored the core, then with a heave of spiritual will, stored the entire, massive carcass into his spatial pouch. The clearing looked oddly empty, just a battlefield of shattered timber and deep gouges in the earth.
Finally, Han Li took out a Energy Recovery Pill—one of his own refinements—and swallowed it. A wave of gentle, cooling energy spread from his dantian, beginning the work of soothing his strained meridians and knitting his broken rib. He sat fully in the lotus position, allowing the pill's efficacy to merge with his own cycling Qi.
He had survived. He had won. And he had taken the first, brutal step from a disciple in a cottage to a hunter in the wilds.
After an hour, his eyes opened. They were clear, sharp, and filled with a new, hard-won understanding. He stood, tested his weight on his side—a sharp protest, but manageable—and turned.
He had a girl to check on, and a promise to a dead master that now pointed him toward a city called chang.