The first kill was a baseline, an entry point into a new and complex dataset. For the next week, Aryan didn't stray far from the forest's edge, an area the locals called the "Verdant Veil." He became a creature of the twilight woods, his existence distilled into a primal, efficient loop: observe, hunt, cultivate, analyze.
He never hunted the same type of beast twice in a row. Each day was a new experiment, a new variable to test. After the Stone-Skinned Rabbit, his targets were a flock of Crimson-Crested Hawks.
The encyclopedia described them as second-layer Qi Condensation Realm beasts, territorial and possessing sharp talons and beaks. Their strength was their aerial mobility and flock tactics.
He did not engage them in the sky. It would have been a foolish waste of energy. Instead, he spent half a day observing their nesting patterns in the high branches of an old ironwood tree. He noted the path the parents took when leaving to hunt and returning with food. He found a perch on a nearby tree, a position downwind that offered a clear line of sight. He waited for two hours, motionless, a shadow among shadows, until a hawk landed on a branch near its nest, its attention focused on the chirping chicks within.
His Void Piercer, a silent needle of Qi, struck it from thirty meters away. The hawk collapsed without a sound, its life extinguished before its own flock even registered the threat. He repeated the process twice more throughout the day, each time from a different angle, testing the range and accuracy of his technique. Three clean kills, six more Supreme Points, and a wealth of data on airborne targets.
His next target was an Iron-Skinned Boar, a brutish third-layer beast known for its thick, almost metallic hide and its devastating charges. He found its tracks near a muddy wallow and stalked it for hours, learning its patrol route. This time, he didn't rely on a single, precise strike. This was an experiment in combining his skills.
He found a narrow ravine along the boar's path. He spent an hour using his sword not to fight, but to dig, weakening the earth on one side of the gully, creating a subtle, hidden trap. Then, he waited. When the boar came rumbling into the ravine, he revealed himself. The beast, enraged at the intrusion, charged as expected.
Just as it reached the weakened ground, Aryan struck the opposite wall with a Gale Palm. The gust of wind was aimed not at the boar, but at the loose soil. The ground gave way, creating a small landslide. The boar, its charge interrupted, stumbled, its legs sinking into the soft, collapsing earth. It was only for a moment, but a moment was all Aryan needed.
He descended upon the trapped, off-balance beast. His sword, a simple tool of steel, was useless against its hide. But his fingers were not. He drove his refined Void Piercer into the soft joint behind the boar's shoulder, a weak point he had memorized from the encyclopedia. The beast's enraged squeal was cut short as its life was snuffed out.
With the same dispassionate focus he applied to his journal, he carved the boar's tusks and hide. The work was bloody and methodical, devoid of any emotion. These were not trophies; they were assets. The real prize was the data point: a successful test of a multi-variable combat strategy. He was learning not just to be a cultivator, but a strategist.
Every night, he would make a small, smokeless camp. He would roast the meat from his latest kill, the simple meal a profound luxury earned by his own skill. Then, he would open one of his journals. By the light of his glowing fingertip Qi light, he would write.