The Sky Mist Art, legacy of the Sky Mist academy, was a breathing technique designed for cultivators at the fragile Qi Accumulation Realm. Grey sat in silence, the jade slip heavy in his hands. For a long moment, he hesitated. Then, with a steadying breath, he nodded. He would follow this path.
Cross-legged, he closed his eyes. 'I'm supposed to sit like this… right?' he wondered. His memory of cultivation was fragmented, but instinct guided him.
He inhaled slowly, shaping his breaths according to the method inscribed within the slip. His chest rose and fell in rhythm—again and again, until his pulse steadied. After several cycles, a faint mist drifted from his lips. Subtle… but real. His weakened soul stirred, brushing against something in the air. Tiny, unseen motes responded, seeping into his body, fusing with his essence like dew absorbed by thirsty soil.
His cultivation base inched forward. Fragile. Slow. But undeniable.
Time slipped from his grasp. When Grey opened his eyes, the world outside had darkened. Above, heavy clouds bled a deep, ominous red across the horizon.
'I was cultivating for that long? It felt like minutes…'
He looked down at the jade slip and remembered its warning: beginners often lost their sense of time. Hours could vanish in the space of a breath. His body, however, felt light, cleansed. The dull ache in his bones had faded.
Still, a thread of unease lingered. 'If I lose track of time like this… I could spend days locked in cultivation without realizing it. Out here, that's a death sentence.'
His stomach gave a soft growl, interrupting his thoughts. He blinked, surprised. He wasn't nearly as hungry as before. For a fleeting moment, he thought the art had eased his hunger. Then his stomach rumbled again, louder this time, protesting with savage need.
"…Not that strange after all," he muttered, rubbing his abdomen. 'Food. I need food.'
A search through the house turned up nothing—just dust and silence. Not a scrap of dried meat. Not a crumb of stale bread. His hunger sharpened into frustration. 'The memories say I lived on wild fruits and meat from the Forbidden Forest. Looks like I'll have to do the same.'
Resigned, Grey sat back down and cultivated until dawn's light filtered through the cracks in the ruined walls. This time, when he exhaled, a swirl of white mist curled into the air. The second level of the Sky Mist Art.
Despite the milestone, survival weighed heavier than progress.
He stepped outside. The Corroded Zone spread before him—twisted trees, uneven earth, and a forest bathed in the oppressive hue of crimson clouds. Fog clung to the ground like a living thing. Every breath of air felt sharp, almost hostile.
Grey slowed, every sense on edge. He knew too well what lurked here. Creatures warped by corruption. Beasts powerful enough to crush him without effort. His mind flickered back to the Minotaur that had ended his first life. Instinctively, he rubbed the back of his skull, where phantom pain still lingered.
'I won't die like that again.'
A flicker of movement caught his eye. A rabbit, fur black as coal, lingered near the entrance of a burrow. Unlike most animals in this land, it wasn't twisted or mutated. Still, faint energy pulsed within it—the second level of Qi Accumulation. Manageable prey.
The real problem? He had no idea how to hunt.
Grey crouched behind a crooked tree, watching the rabbit's twitching ears. 'How do I even catch something this fast?' His hesitation cost him. The rabbit froze, then darted back into its burrow. Gone.
His stomach groaned in protest. He clenched his jaw. 'Think, Grey. If you starve out here, you're finished.'
Another burrow. Another rabbit. This time, he gripped the knife at his belt, sweat dampening his palms. He whispered to himself, voice trembling, "It's just a rabbit. You're not afraid of a rabbit…"
But when he lunged, the creature vanished in a blur of fur.
Once. Twice. Five more times. Every attempt ended in failure.
By the seventh try, desperation had replaced hesitation. He dove headfirst, fingers snaring the rabbit's ears before it could vanish. The animal thrashed wildly, claws raking his arm, but he held on with white-knuckled determination.
"Finally…" His voice shook. Panting, he raised the knife. His hand hovered, trembling. 'Do it. You need this. Or you die.'
A single cut. Hot blood spattered across his face. Grey flinched, heart hammering, but his grip never loosened. The rabbit spasmed, then went limp.
He stood there in silence, staring at the lifeless body in his hands. His breath came shallow, uneven.
"…I just killed a rabbit."
The words tasted bitter. He wiped the blood from his cheek, shivering. Hunger snarled inside him, cruel and demanding. Forcing his voice steady, he whispered, "…Sorry, buddy."
By noon, smoke curled from a small coal stove within the ruined house. Grey's hands worked clumsily, skinning the rabbit with stiff fingers. His first kill sat heavy on his conscience, but the scent of roasting meat filled the air, overwhelming guilt with raw need.
When the meat was nearly done, he washed his hands with the last drops from his water bottle. The liquid was gone before his skin felt clean. He stared at the empty container, grim realization settling in.
The Corroded Zone had rivers, lakes—but most were tainted, deadly. The few pure waters left in this land were guarded fiercely by beasts.
Grey's gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the crimson mist writhed like a warning. His jaw tightened.
'Meat is one thing. But without water… I won't last long.'
He stepped outside. His next hunt had already been decided.