Grey stepped out of the ruined shelter with everything he owned strapped to his back. The air still smelled faintly of acid, and the ground beneath his feet crackled softly as he moved, as if the earth itself was remembering the rain.
He kept his steps light, gliding through the broken streets and past the skeletal silhouettes of half-collapsed buildings. Fog drifted lazily around the cracked walls, like dying spirits reluctant to disperse.
Then he saw it.
A deer stood beside a ruined archway, its fur a deep blood-red, as though soaked in slaughter. Its teeth, long, lupine, wrong, dug into the stone as if it were soft bread. Each crunch sent tiny fragments spraying outward.
Grey's mind blanked for half a breath.
The creature lifted its head.
Two luminous eyes, neither beast nor spirit, locked onto him. The oppressive weight of its spiritual presence pressed against his chest like a giant's hand, and an dense , corrosive aura rolled off its body in heavy waves.
Grey took a slow step back. Then another. His breath came shallow, the kind of breathing one used when trying not to provoke a sleeping dragon.
The deer did not attack.
It merely watched, head tilted, as though curious about this small human wandering so close to its domain.
Only when Grey was several dozen meters away did his lungs finally release their tight grip.
This was the second mutated creature… and like the leopard from before, it did not strike.
That was almost more unsettling.
After making sure the deer wasn't following, he slumped against a tree whose bark shimmered faintly with a metallic sheen. His legs trembled. His heart hammered.
He took a long pull from his water bottle, letting the coolness steady him.
Somewhere along the way, he had drifted from his intended path. He could feel it. The corrosive substance in the air thickened ever so slightly, and the trees grew taller, their shadows longer. He had edged closer to the outer layer of the corroded zone.
He was debating whether to retreat when a faint rustle brushed across his ears.
His cultivation-sharpened senses caught it instantly.
Grey straightened, taking three steps back. His eyes narrowed.
"Hello?" he called, not out of confidence, but a lingering instinct from the world he once lived in, where strangers weren't always threats.
A pulse of spiritual energy leaked from the bushes in answer.
This one was nothing like the beasts.
This one felt… malicious. A man pushed through the foliage.
It was a middle-aged. He was clothed in tatters. Face streaked with filth.
But none of that mattered. What mattered was the glint in his eyes, sharp, greedy, predatory.
The aura around him was unmistakable... the fourth-level Qi Accumulation.
Grey's stomach tightened.
He should have felt relieved to see another human. However, he wasn't.
Something inside him whispered the truth even before he fully understood it:
Scavenger.
A rogue cultivator.
A hyena in human skin.
A creature drawn to corroded zones in search of resources, treasure, or victims too weak to resist.
The man cackled when he saw Grey's expression twist.
A dagger materialized in his hand, its edge reflecting the ugly smile on his face. He pointed at Grey's pouch.
"Easy there, kid. Hand over the pouch, and I'll let you keep your legs."
Grey's brows twitched. Not in fear, annoyance.
'First a leopard. Then a red-furred deer. Now this fool.'
He almost laughed.
The man mistook the silence as submission.
"Last warning," he growled, stepping forward. "The pouch. Now."
Grey's hand slid toward the small knife hidden at his waist.
Then he moved.
Two breaths... and he was already upon the scavenger.
The man's grin widened into something vicious as he countercharged.
Their bodies collided with a crack like splintering timber.
Grey skidded across the dirt, blood flooding his mouth with a bitter metallic taste. A deep gash carved itself across his forearm, and pain lanced up to his shoulder. But the scavenger's expression froze.
A hairline crack had appeared on the dagger's blade.
Grey's blow had been stronger than the man expected.
The scavenger snarled and slammed Grey's fist aside, then drove an elbow into his gut. Grey's body lurched, breath bursting from his lungs, but he didn't fall.
He spat blood, shut his eyes briefly, and let his cultivation circulate.
Inside his body, the faint pulse of the purple crystal stirred, quiet, ancient, repairing flesh and calming the tremor behind his bones.
Grey reopened his eyes, a grim smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
The scavenger saw it and bared his teeth.
"That knife cost me money! I'll cut you apart, brat!"
He lunged again.
Another violent clash, Grey was sent flying, rolling across the ground. His face paled, but this time, he didn't cough blood. He steadied his breathing, pushing himself up.
A small, controlled smile appeared.
He was learning the man's rhythm.
The scavenger, fueled by anger, poured more spiritual energy into each strike. Grey didn't need to win immediately, he only needed to wait.
Every explosive impact drained the man.
Every reckless dash burned through his reserves.
Grey's plan unfurled in silence.
Let the scavenger exhaust himself.
Let him crumble under his own fury.
And then he would strike.
**☺️😉**