The world shook.

  Not violently at first—just a subtle tremor, like a giant shifting its weight somewhere far away. Mingzhi felt it through his bones before he heard it, a low vibration that crept up his spine and settled behind his eyes.

  Then came the sound.

  A collision so deep it bypassed the ears entirely, striking straight at the chest. The air pulsed. The earth groaned. Mingzhi’s breath caught as if something enormous had slammed its palm against his sternum.

  He froze.

  Not because he chose to—but because his body refused to obey.

  Every muscle locked in place, pinned by an invisible pressure that pressed down from all sides. His heartbeat thundered loud enough to drown out his thoughts. He couldn’t tell if the tremors came from the ground beneath him or from the space above—only that the force was overwhelming.

  Don’t move, he told himself.

  Another impact followed.

  Closer.

  The pressure surged, then ebbed, like waves crashing against a cliff. The sound that followed was no roar—it was tearing. The violent grinding of stone against stone, accompanied by sharp cracks that sent shivers racing through the earth.

  Mingzhi clenched his jaw.

  Even breathing felt dangerous.

  Above, something massive slammed sideways. The vibration rolled through him, rattling his teeth. Loose soil trickled past his face. His injured shoulder screamed in protest as the pressure shifted, sending a spike of agony down his arm.

  Rou was rigid beside him.

  He could feel her trembling—not violently, but with that restrained, breathless fear that comes when instinct screams run and the body cannot.

  The clash intensified.

  Stone shattered. Something heavy was flung aside with a sound like a collapsing cliff. Mingzhi tasted blood as he bit down too hard, forcing himself not to gasp.

  Then—suddenly—

  Silence.

  Not gradual. Not fading.

  It fell all at once, like a blade cutting sound from the world.

  The pressure lifted.

  Mingzhi waited.

  Seconds crawled past.

  Then minutes.

  His pulse slowed from a frantic gallop to something closer to human. Only then did he dare loosen his grip on the Earth Qi holding him rigid.

  The Spirit’s presence brushed outward, cautious and precise.

  “…It’s over,” it said at last. “Both are dead.”

  Mingzhi exhaled shakily.

  He released the last of the tension binding his body, and the world seemed to settle back into place. His limbs trembled as sensation returned all at once—pain, exhaustion, cold.

  He shifted, carefully, and sat up slowly.

  Beside him, Rou did the same, and then sucked in a sharp breath.

  “What… what just happened?” she whispered.

  Mingzhi grimaced as he pushed himself upright, immediately swaying. “Later,” he said hoarsely. “Help me up.”

  Rou hurried to his side, slipping under his arm without another word. She took most of his weight, her jaw clenched with effort as they staggered forward.

  When they emerged into the clearing, Rou stopped short.

  “Oh…”

  The forest was unrecognizable.

  What had once been towering trees and uneven ground was now flattened and scarred, the earth gouged into trenches and shallow craters. Ancient trunks lay snapped and twisted, roots torn free and flung aside like debris after a storm. Dust hung in the air, faintly glowing as it drifted down.

  And beyond—

  The beasts.

  They lay further ahead, massive forms sprawled across the ruined ground.

  Mingzhi felt a chill crawl up his spine as they approached.

  Up close, their scale was terrifying.

  Even dead, they did not look defeated. They looked paused — as if the earth itself had simply told them to stop.

  One stood taller even in death, its body encased in layered stone plates like overlapping armor. Deep cracks ran across its chest, fragments broken away to expose darker, pulsing stone beneath. Its claws—long, serrated, and still faintly gleaming with Earth Qi—were embedded deep in the ground as if it had refused to fall quietly.

  The other was broader, lower to the earth, its thick tail shattered near the base. Its hide was packed dense with compressed soil, iron-hard and scarred by deep claw marks. One massive rib cage had collapsed inward, crushed by an overwhelming final blow.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Rou swallowed. “They… killed each other?”

  “Yes,” Mingzhi said softly.

  She stared at the corpses, awe and fear mingling in her eyes. “What a waste. If we could move them… even parts of them would be worth a fortune.”

  Mingzhi’s eyes flickered.

  “…We can.”

  Rou blinked. “We can?”

  He stepped forward, ignoring the protest screaming through his shoulder, and placed his palm against the nearer beast. His consciousness dipped inward.

  The world twisted briefly—

  —and the corpse vanished.

  Rou’s mouth fell open.

  The second beast followed moments later, leaving behind only crushed earth and blood-darkened soil.

  Rou turned slowly to him. “…How?”

  Mingzhi smiled faintly. “It’s a secret.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head. “One day, that secret is going to give me a heart attack.”

  The Spirit cut in sharply. “Your injuries are no joke. You should find a place to heal as soon as possible.”

  “Not yet,” Mingzhi replied. He straightened slightly, eyes scanning the clearing. “This is our best chance. The beasts fought toward the forest edge. Whatever drew them here is further in.”

  Rou frowned. “Drew them?”

  “Territorial beasts don’t clash like that for nothing,” Mingzhi said. “Something valuable is nearby. Now that the two are out of the picture, as soon as other beasts, or anyone notices, they will come here to have a look.”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. But quickly.”

  They moved deeper into the forest with the Spirit’s lead.

  Here, the damage vanished abruptly. Trees stood tall and undisturbed, their bark thick and ridged, leaves whispering softly overhead. The contrast was stark—as if the battle had stopped at an invisible boundary.

  As they walked, Mingzhi felt it.

  The Qi grew denser.

  At first subtly—just a gentle pressure against his skin. Then more pronounced, the air growing heavier with each step. His Perfect Seed stirred instinctively, drinking in the richness.

  Rou noticed it too. “The Qi feels… thicker.”

  “Yes,” Mingzhi murmured.

  Then, abruptly, it changed.

  The density plummeted.

  The earth beneath his boots softened, yielding slightly with each step. Mingzhi stopped, kneeling and pressing his palm into the soil.

  “…Strange.”

  “What is it?” Rou asked.

  “The Earth Qi should be densest here,” he said slowly. “But it’s being drained.”

  “It’s here,” reported the Spirit.

  He dug.

  Barely five centimeters down, his fingers brushed against something smooth.

  A translucent green surface caught the light.

  He carefully uncovered it, revealing a perfect herb embedded in the soil. Its veins glowed faintly with soft jade light, flawless and unblemished.

  Rou gasped. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Jade-quality,” Mingzhi whispered. “Pure.”

  The Spirit went very quiet.

  “…How could it be so pure?” it murmured. “Even in dense Qi, impurities accumulate over time. For it to reach one hundred percent purity…”

  Mingzhi smiled faintly. “Why not?”

  The Spirit hesitated. “…As time passes, even perfect environments introduce flaws. This would require extraordinary conditions—or absurd luck. Wait…”

  As Mingzhi gently pulled the herb free, the Spirit’s tone sharpened.

  “Dig deeper.”

  Mingzhi frowned but obeyed.

  As he broke through the next layer of soil, warmth surged up around his hand.

  Liquid welled forth.

  Clear. Luminous. Pulsing faintly with vitality.

  “What’s that?” Mingzhi muttered.

  The Spirit inhaled sharply. “Life Liquid. Condensed life energy. But… why is it here?”

  Mingzhi carefully collected it, the substance shimmering softly as it flowed into its container.

  Rou watched with wide eyes. “What did you find?”

  “A jade herb,” Mingzhi said. “And this liquid.”

  “…Is it good stuff?”

  He chuckled weakly. “This is condensed life force.”

  Rou swallowed. “That’s… incredible.”

  As he finished collecting the liquid, something else caught his eye—a small, translucent white seed resting in the soil.

  The moment his fingers touched it, the soil around it pulsed — faint, but deliberate.

  “Looks nice. But even soaked in life liquid, it didn’t sprout. Probably dead.”

  He raised his hand to toss it—

  “YOU FOOL!” the Spirit snapped.

  Mingzhi froze.

  “That’s the main thing,” the Spirit said scathingly. “The Life Seed. The core that absorbs Qi to produce the liquid. You’re picking up sesame seeds and throwing away the watermelon!”

  “…Sesame seed?” Mingzhi muttered.

  “I have seen the liquid before,” the Spirit continued. “Never the seed. Do you have any idea how rare this is?”

  Mingzhi hurriedly stored it, grinning foolishly.

  “These treasures,” the Spirit went on, calmer now, “require immense Qi. Which means—”

  It paused, scanning deeper.

  “…What dumb luck you have.”

  Mingzhi blinked. “What?”

  “Do you remember the Wang clan’s digging site?” the Spirit asked. “Spirit stones. Crystals. Marrow. And above all—sources.”

  “…Earth spirit sources,” Mingzhi said slowly.

  “Yes. Multiple. Beneath us. Generating Earth Qi.”

  Mingzhi frowned. “But back then, the earth was so dense I couldn’t even reach the marrow. Here, there’s no marrow—and the earth is thinner.”

  The Spirit sounded satisfied. “Exactly. The sources generated Qi, making the earth dense. Under those conditions, the seed formed. With the life energy, the herb maintained purity while siphoning massive Qi—thinning the earth under.”

  “…Dumb luck,” Mingzhi echoed.

  He collected the spirit sources one by one, then, with the Spirit’s guidance, gathered several more high-quality herbs nearby.

  Finally, his endurance reached its limit.

  Rou exhaled. “That’s enough. You need rest.”

  “Agreed,” Mingzhi said. “Spirit, find us a safe cave. High Qi density.”

  Rou walked beside him in silence for a while, then finally couldn’t hold it in anymore.

  “Mingzhi,” she said quietly, “what happened back there?”

  He didn’t answer right away.

  The forest around them was calmer now, but his body still remembered the weight of it—the pressure, the trembling ground, the way death had felt close enough to touch.

  “When I heard the first roar,” he said at last, “I knew we were in trouble.”

  Rou nodded. “A Tier Two beast.”

  “Yes. But that wasn’t the problem, I was counting on that.” He glanced at her. “The situation changed with the second roar.”

  Her brows furrowed. “The one from the other side?”

  “Mm.” Mingzhi slowed a little. “Two territorial beasts in one area means one thing. They can’t both exist peacefully if disturbed.”

  Rou stopped walking. “So… you led them into each other?”

  “Not exactly.” He shook his head. “I didn’t lead them. I… adjusted.”

  She waited.

  “When the second roar sounded, I could tell where it came from. Not precisely—but enough. Distance. Direction. Depth.” He tapped the ground lightly with his foot. “Earth carries sound differently.”

  Rou’s eyes widened slightly.

  “If I’d kept running straight,” Mingzhi continued, “both of them would’ve reached us at the same time. So I changed direction just enough that the second beast would intercept Wang Hu first.”

  Her breath caught. “You used him as bait?”

  Mingzhi didn’t deny it. “He was already chasing us. I just made sure he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “That’s not adjusting,” Rou said quietly. “That’s gambling with monsters.”

  “It was the only way.” He smiled faintly. “If the second beast killed him quickly, it would chase after the first beast and us. The first beast would notice the approach and pounce on it, feeling the bigger threat.”

  Rou swallowed. “But the first beast reached us.”

  “For a moment,” Mingzhi said. “I just needed to buy a few seconds and disappear.”

  She frowned. “But Tier Two beasts have divine sense. Hiding wouldn’t—”

  “I didn’t just hide,” he interrupted gently. “I masked my presence.”

  Her eyes widened. “You can do that?”

  “For a few seconds,” he admitted. “And only because it was then focused on something else.”

  Rou exhaled slowly. “And the second beast?”

  “Arrived just in time.” Mingzhi’s voice softened. “The first one hadn’t lost us yet, ants in its eyes—but it lost interest. Two apex beasts meeting… that’s not something they ignore.”

  Rou was silent for a long time.

  Finally, she said, “You’re insane.”

  He laughed weakly. “Probably.”

  Then she grabbed his sleeve tighter. “Don’t ever do something like that without warning me again.”

  Mingzhi met her gaze. “Next time, I’ll make sure we’re strong enough that there won’t need to be a ‘like that.’”

  In the space, unseen, the Spirit listened in silence—quietly revising its assessment of just how dangerous its host was becoming.

  A moment later, as they were about to enter the cave, its voice cut in, low and sharp.

  “Wait. I just felt something.”

  Mingzhi felt it too.

  A presence.

  Hidden. Restrained.

  “This aura…” the Spirit whispered.