Bai Feng's vision swam as the beast's massive paw slammed into him again, sending him crashing through a thick bush and into the hard earth. The coppery taste of blood flooded his mouth, and his ribs screamed in protest. His breathing was ragged, each inhalation scraping against the pain in his chest.
Before him loomed the Greenfang Direbear — a hulking monstrosity of muscle and dark fur, its fangs curved unnaturally green, glistening with venomous saliva. Its small eyes glowed faintly, not with animal instinct alone, but with the ferocity of a spirit beast that had lived far too long in the depths of the Greenfang Forest. Each breath it took was a heavy rumble, each step crushing the foliage beneath its claws.
Bai Feng's body trembled, not from fear alone but from the brutal exhaustion gnawing at him. His arms ached, his legs felt as if lead weights were tied to them, and the spiritual energy within his meridians was chaotic and scattered — like sand slipping through clenched fingers.
This was not a fight he could win. Not as he was.
He pushed himself to his knees, dirt and leaves clinging to his sweat-slick skin. The Direbear's growl rolled through the forest like distant thunder, shaking the air. Bai Feng had no weapon — only his fists, his body, and the instincts honed from countless hours of barehanded drills in the training courts of the Verdant Grove Sect.
A sudden flicker of movement in the distance caught his attention — his team. They were far off now, silhouettes retreating deeper into the trees. None of them looked back.
Only fragments of earlier events flashed in his mind: the hurried trek, the sudden rustle in the underbrush, the beast's roar, the panicked retreat. Then the cold decision from their leader — his senior brother — sharp and unforgiving:
"We'll distract it. Bai Feng… hold it off."
The truth was harsher. He was the slowest, the weakest, and the most expendable.
The Direbear lunged, snapping Bai Feng's focus back to the present. He rolled aside, the beast's claws tearing through the soil where his chest had been moments before. Pain lanced through his shoulder as the motion pulled at a bruise that ran deep. He countered with a desperate strike — a palm to the beast's jaw — but it was like hitting a mountain.
Another blow sent him tumbling, the world blurring into greens and browns.
Somewhere deep within, a dam broke. The chaos in his meridians shifted, not spilling out this time, but surging forward, flooding every channel in his body. The stagnant qi he'd nurtured for months, trapped at the peak of the Awakening stage, suddenly found a path.
It came like a storm.
Qi roared into him in torrents, pulled from the world around him — from the air, from the forest, from the faint spiritual veins beneath the soil. It burned and froze at once, pushing through meridians that felt too narrow to contain it. His muscles tightened, his bones thrummed, and his senses sharpened until every breath of the Direbear, every rustle of a leaf, became painfully clear.
Qi Condensation — Initial Stage.
Bai Feng gasped, not from the pain of his injuries, but from the overwhelming rush of newfound strength. His limbs felt lighter, his core steadier, his heartbeat stronger. The fear in his chest shrank, replaced by something fierce and unyielding.
The Direbear lunged again, its shadow falling over him. Bai Feng didn't retreat this time. He stepped into the strike, his palm striking the beast's forearm with precision, diverting its momentum. His other hand hammered into its ribcage, sending a shock through its body. The impact reverberated up his arm, but the beast staggered — even if only slightly.
The fight became a blur of motion and instinct. The Direbear's massive form moved with terrifying speed, but Bai Feng's body now responded without hesitation. He ducked under a swipe, drove a knee into the beast's abdomen, twisted away before the claws could find him. Each breath he took seemed to pull more strength from the surrounding world.
Then, as the Direbear reared up for a final crushing blow, Bai Feng's fist shot upward, striking with all the condensed qi his body could muster. His knuckles met the underside of its jaw, and a shockwave of force rippled through the beast. Its head snapped back violently, and with a guttural roar, it collapsed, the forest trembling beneath its weight.
For a heartbeat, there was only silence.
A faint metallic clink followed — something rolling from the thick fur of the beast's neck into the dirt. Bai Feng's gaze fell on it: a plain white jade ring, cool and unmarked, its surface faintly luminous in the scattered sunlight.
He didn't think. His hand moved on its own, slipping the ring onto his finger.
The sudden rush of exhaustion hit him like a crashing wave. His knees buckled, and the strength that had surged moments ago drained away, leaving only pain and the fog of fatigue. Darkness closed in before he could even take another breath.
When Bai Feng woke, he was lying on a hastily spread cloak, the canopy of the Greenfang Forest swaying above him. His team surrounded him, their expressions a tangled web of relief, guilt, and expectation.
"You're awake," the leader said, voice even but avoiding his eyes. "We… didn't have a choice."
Bai Feng's mind replayed the moment they'd left him behind. The fear. The betrayal. The cold calculation in his senior brother's tone. His fists clenched.
"You decided I was the best bait," he said quietly.
A long pause. No one denied it.
Bai Feng let the silence stretch, his chest heavy with unspoken words. Anger flickered within him, sharp and hot — but it burned out quickly, leaving only a dull ache. They had made their choice. And he had survived.
"I understand," he said finally, his voice calm but not warm. "It worked, didn't it?"
The leader exhaled, a faint shadow of relief crossing his features. "The beast's carcass… it's yours. As compensation."
Bai Feng glanced toward the massive form lying still a short distance away. The Direbear looked smaller now in death, but its presence still carried weight. He nodded once.
"Fine."
The journey back to the Verdant Grove Sect was slow. His body ached with every step, but the qi in his core still pulsed faintly, steady and strong in a way it had never been before. His team kept pace around him, speaking little.
The sect's modest wooden gates came into view by sunset, framed by the quiet elegance of surrounding pines. In the distance, the peaks where the senior cultivators trained were lost in soft clouds. Bai Feng's eyes lingered on them for a moment before he was guided toward the healer's quarters.
He didn't speak again. Neither did they. The silence between them was an unspoken truce — fragile, but for now, enough.