Chen Ming moved through the forest at a steady pace.
He followed paths where the ground showed signs of disturbance and left them when the traces scattered. When a sound repeated, he closed the distance. When it did not, he adjusted course without stopping.
The first demonic beast appeared near a shallow stream.
It was small, its body narrow, fur patchy along the flanks. Its breathing was uneven even while still. Chen Ming watched until it lowered its head to drink.
Rockhide Fox.
The bloodline was thin. Refinement would be stable, but the gain would be limited. It would not support advancement beyond the first realm.
He turned away.
Further in, he encountered another.
This one moved slowly through brush, its shoulders high, spine thick, hide pressed tight against muscle. The air around it felt heavy, and its scent lingered after it passed.
Ironback Boar.
The bloodline was dense. Too dense. If assimilated now, it would suppress future refinement unless replaced by something stronger. He could not guarantee that.
Chen Ming did not follow.
By the time the light shifted, the forest had yielded nothing suitable.
His steps shortened. He altered direction more often. Once, he stopped entirely, listening, then moved again without drawing his sword.
A sound reached him from deeper within the trees.
Something moving through brush without forcing its way through.
Chen Ming slowed.
He shifted to higher ground and crouched behind a tree whose trunk split low at the base. From there, he had a clear view of a shallow clearing.
The beast stood near the center.
Its body was compact, limbs proportioned evenly, fur dark and unbroken. No visible scars. Its breathing was steady. When it moved, weight transferred without drag.
It fed on a carcass, tearing flesh free and swallowing without haste. Blood soaked into the ground beneath it.
Chen Ming watched.
Shadowfang Wolf.
Rank one.
The bloodline was present but not dominant. Stronger than ordinary beasts. Weaker than true lineage-bearing demonic wolves. If refined properly, it would not interfere with later stages.
His gaze remained on the beast as it lifted its head, ears shifting slightly.
Chen Ming remained still as the wolf fed.
Its movements were steady, shoulders rising and falling in a consistent rhythm as it tore flesh free and swallowed. The surrounding trees did not shift, and no answering sound carried through the forest beyond the clearing.
Looks like it has separated from its pack.
He did not move immediately.
The wolf dragged the carcass several steps, paused, then lifted its head and listened. Its ears turned, first toward the trees behind it, then toward the slope Chen Ming occupied. Nothing followed. The forest remained unchanged.
No pursuit. No protection.
Chen Ming waited longer.
Only when the wolf lowered its head again did his weight shift forward, his steps placed carefully where the ground had already been disturbed. The sword cleared its sheath without sound as he closed the distance.
He struck toward the base of the wolf's neck.
The blade cut through fur but did not meet resistance. The wolf twisted its body sharply, muscles contracting in a single coordinated motion as it leapt aside. The strike passed through empty space, and claws tore into the soil where Chen Ming had aimed to stand.
Chen Ming drew back half a step and exhaled through his nose.
The wolf turned to face him fully, its body low, teeth bared, saliva gathering at the corners of its mouth as a short roar forced its way out. Its hind legs coiled, and it sprang forward again.
They met in motion.
Chen Ming brought his sword up to deflect the bite aimed at his throat, the impact carrying through his arm and forcing his shoulder back. Claws raked across his forearm as the wolf passed, opening shallow lines that bled immediately. He twisted his torso and cut as it landed, the blade biting into its flank before sliding free.
The wolf struck the ground and spun, blood darkening its fur where the cut had opened. Its breathing grew heavier as it lunged again, this time lower, its claws tearing at Chen Ming's leg as he shifted his stance to avoid the jaws.
Pain spread along his thigh as he stepped back, the fabric of his robe torn open where the claws had passed. He adjusted his grip and moved in again before the wolf could recover its footing.
They circled once, then closed.
The wolf snapped and tore, its teeth grazing his shoulder as he drove his blade forward, the point sinking into its side before resistance forced him to pull free. The wolf howled and slammed into him, the weight of its body driving him to one knee as blood spilled from both of them onto the ground.
Chen Ming braced himself against the wolf's chest and twisted, forcing space between them long enough to raise his sword again. As the wolf lunged for his throat a final time, he stepped into the motion and drove the blade upward into its abdomen.
The wolf's body shuddered.
Its claws scraped weakly against his side before losing strength, and its weight collapsed forward. Chen Ming remained where he was, the sword still buried as he slumped against the wolf's body, his breathing steady but heavy as blood soaked into the earth beneath them.
Chen Ming steadied his breathing before moving.
He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, then reached down and dragged the wolf's body away from the clearing. He did not remain in the open. His pace increased as he moved through the trees, choosing a route he had already marked earlier that day, one that did not double back or cross water.
The forest thinned where the ground rose.
A narrow opening appeared between exposed stone and tangled roots. Chen Ming slipped inside and pulled the wolf's body after him. The cave was shallow but dry, its floor uneven and free of debris. He stepped back out once, braced his shoulder against a boulder lodged nearby, and forced it across the entrance until the gap sealed completely. The remaining light vanished, leaving only darkness and his breath.
He sat down with his back against the stone wall.
The wolf's body was placed before him, its warmth already fading. Chen Ming adjusted his posture until his breathing slowed, then reached for the manual and opened it again. His eyes passed over the instructions without pause.
He closed them.
His hands moved according to the diagrams, fingers pressing at specific points along his wrists and chest. His breathing shifted, drawn deeper and held longer, guided inward instead of outward.
The wolf's blood responded.
What remained within the corpse stirred and separated, seeping free through torn flesh and exposed veins. Thin streams gathered above the body, drawn together by the circulation method Chen Ming maintained. The blood condensed slowly, folding inward until it formed a single mass, dark and dense, suspended between them.
The orb pulsed.
Chen Ming's breathing tightened as the blood essence moved toward him. When it reached his chest, it pressed forward and sank into his body without resistance. His shoulders tensed, and his jaw set as the circulation method continued.
At first, the sensation remained contained.
His breath grew uneven as pressure spread outward from his chest into his limbs. His fingers curled, then relaxed, then curled again. The method did not slow.
Blood spilled from his mouth without warning, dark and thick as it struck the stone floor. His breathing broke once before he forced it steady again. His eyes opened, unfocused, the whites already stained red as vessels ruptured beneath the strain.
The blood within him surged.
His back arched as his muscles seized, and a sound tore free from his throat, raw and uncontrolled.
"Aaaaaahhhhhh—!"
The scream did not stop.
The circulation method continued on its own, dragging the wolf's blood through his body as his control slipped. Blood flowed from his nose, then his ears, then his eyes, running down his face and soaking into his robe. His hands clawed against the stone as his body shook, the scream breaking only when his breath failed, then starting again as air forced its way back in.
Inside him, everything shifted.
Pressure tore through his chest and abdomen as vessels thickened and split, replaced even as they failed. Heat flooded his limbs, followed by cold, then heat again, each surge stronger than the last. His organs convulsed as foreign blood forced its way through passages not yet prepared to endure it.
Chen Ming did not interrupt the method.
Blood pooled beneath him as his body continued to convulse, his breathing uneven and ragged as the circulation dragged the wolf's blood deeper, reshaping what it passed through. The cave remained sealed and silent beyond the sound of his voice and the wet impact of blood striking stone, while the change continued without pause.
The pain did not vanish at once.
It receded in stages, withdrawing from his limbs and chest until it settled into a dull pressure that no longer disrupted his breathing. The circulation slowed, then stabilized, and the blood that had spilled from his face and body stopped flowing. Chen Ming remained seated as his breath gradually evened out, each inhale drawn deep and held before being released through his mouth and nose together.
He opened his eyes.
The cave was dark, but the contours of stone were clear to him without strain. He placed one hand against the ground and pushed himself upright, his movements steady despite the stiffness that lingered in his joints. As he stood, he flexed his fingers once, then again. The joints cracked softly, the sound carrying clearly in the confined space.
Strength filled his body in a way that did not disperse.
He clenched his fists and felt the resistance in his own muscles answer him immediately. His gaze dropped to his hands, then lifted toward the blocked entrance. A faint curve appeared at the corner of his mouth and did not deepen.
Chen Ming stepped forward and drove his fist into the boulder.
Stone fractured outward on impact. Cracks spread from the point of contact before the rock burst apart, fragments tearing free and flying into the forest beyond. Light poured into the cave as the debris scattered across the ground.
Chen Ming stepped through the opening.
His robe was dark with dried and fresh blood, the fabric stiff in places where it had soaked through. He paused just outside the cave and lifted his head.
The forest ahead was no longer empty.
A dozen Shadowfang Wolves stood among the trees, their bodies low and tense, eyes fixed on him without wavering. Their formation was loose but deliberate, each one positioned to cut off movement. Behind them stood a larger wolf, its frame heavier, its presence pressing outward in a way the others did not.
Rank two.
Chen Ming looked over them once, his gaze passing from one body to the next before settling on the larger wolf at the rear. His shoulders rolled slightly as he loosened his stance, the sword still hanging at his side.
"Good timing," he said evenly. "I just finished warming up."