The damp air of the Beastfall Mountains' outskirts perpetually carried a mix of rust and decaying leaves, pressing heavily upon every inch of the land. Silas hid deep within a natural rock crevice, the sound of drizzle outside providing perfect cover. Most of his focus was immersed in the Medical Bone Chip he had received from Old Elmer, his fingers unconsciously tracing simple herb diagrams on the rough stone floor.
The knowledge within the bone chip was far more basic than he had imagined, more like a primer for beginners, detailing the identification of common herbs and rudimentary mixing principles. Information about truly spirit-infused herbs, especially those with any significant age, was scarce. Many formulas he desperately needed to accelerate bone healing were stuck on one or two main ingredients—either requiring a Bloodroot over ten years old or the rare Shadowleaf Blossom. Where to find these things? What did they look like? The bone chip held no answers.
He had guidance, but no path. This frustration gnawed at him, more irritating than the constant, dull, bone-deep itch and pain radiating from his left arm. He could feel the power within him—the Law of Life bestowed by the deity—slowly repairing the injury, but the pace was agonizingly slow, making him feel like a tree slowly rotting.
In his agitation, his gaze fell upon a few stubbornly growing, common Hemostatic herbs in a rock fissure, their green hue youthful and clearly of shallow age. An almost instinctual urge made him reach out. He held no real hope, merely attempting to subconsciously channel the warm, vast power within him—not for attack or defense, nor for brutally forcing growth—but trying to shape it into the gentlest nourishing energy, softly enveloping the small plant.
The next moment, an incredible scene unfolded.
The Hemostatic herb trembled faintly under his palm, its leaves unfurling, color deepening to a rich green, veins becoming clear and thick. It even sprouted a tiny bud at its tip, which then swiftly withered, yielding a few shriveled seeds. The entire process took little more than a dozen breaths, yet the plant seemed to have lived through years.
Silas snatched his hand back, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs. He stared at the visibly altered herb, then at his palm, disbelief and wild joy erupting in his eyes. He had found it! A shortcut unique to him, utterly unparalleled!
The following days descended into a frenzy of activity. He continuously guided life energy to mend his left arm in a more refined manner, feeling the injury improve, the bone regeneration speeding up significantly. Simultaneously, he began frantically experimenting and practicing this Herb Acceleration skill. The process was far from smooth; each attempt to guide the energy required extreme concentration. Every successful acceleration brought a peculiar fatigue, not from his body, but from somewhere deeper—as if some intangible vessel was being depleted.
He could vaguely sense that this vessel was nearly full, a tough, vague barrier hindering it. Each time he brushed against this barrier, it brought a momentary stagnation of thought and an indescribable sense of obstruction. He didn't know what this was, only that it was different from the steady growth of physical strength; it seemed stuck at a bottleneck, difficult to breach. Yet, a strong intuition told him that once that door was pushed open, an earth-shattering change would follow. Where was the opportunity? He didn't know, could only try again and again, battering against that vague boundary.
After wasting over a dozen accelerated herbs, he finally succeeded. Using the bone chip's crude formulas, he manually kneaded, pressed, and blended several basic herbs, removing impurities, ultimately producing a few small packets of powder and three to five coarse, unevenly colored pills that emitted a rich, vital fragrance.
He carefully swallowed one. The pill dissolved, its gentle medicinal efficacy spreading through his limbs and bones, mostly converging on his left arm. The itchy sensation of repair instantly became sharp and intense, and the fatigue of the past days vanished. Power, a tangible sense of strength, was returning.
His improving condition allowed him to range further. One day, following memory, he ventured into a misty, damp valley hoping to find more varieties of common herbs for experimentation. The valley was eerily silent, the rotten leaves underfoot deep and soft. Earth Sense spread out silently, alert to any potential danger.
Suddenly, an extremely faint yet uniquely distinct exotic fragrance, carried by a faint air current, drifted into his nostrils.
A mere whiff made Silas's spirit jolt! The deep weariness from constant herb acceleration and battering against the intangible barrier was instantly soothed, as if brushed by a gentle hand! The barrier that had always hindered him seemed to loosen slightly, transmitting an unprecedented "craving"!
Treasure! Absolutely unimaginable treasure!
Suppressing his ecstasy, he became extremely cautious, following the intermittent exotic scent, aided by Earth Sense and his heightened senses, silently moving deeper into the valley. The mist grew thicker.
Finally, against a shady, moss-slick cliff face, he found the source. A plant less than a foot tall, its stem a dark purple, leaves adorned with natural silver-thread patterns, supporting a lychee-sized, semi-transparent silvery-white fruit at its apex—the source of the strange aroma.
He didn't recognize it, but the craving from the depths of his soul told him this thing was crucial to him!
However, his gaze froze the next moment. Right beside the plant, a python as thick as a bucket, with dull scales and a grotesque, pulsating fleshy lump on its head, lay coiled. Its crimson tongue flicked in and out, emitting a heart-stopping, icy killing intent. Its strength far surpassed any enemy he had encountered before.
Silas took a deep breath of the cold air, ruthlessly suppressing all greed and desire. Like a seasoned hunter, he retreated slowly, not making a sound, until he was completely out of the area.
On the return journey, he was even more cautious. While passing through a dense thicket of ferns, Earth Sense picked up chaotic and dense vibrations.
People! Quite a few!
Without a second thought, Silas instinctively dropped low, instantly darting behind a large, moss-covered boulder. He fully activated the Law of Life, but this time, for ultimate suppression! The fluctuations of vitality within him rapidly grew still and faint, his heartbeat slowed, his body temperature dropped, until he seemed to transform completely into a lifeless rock, perfectly concealed.
Soon, a noisy group of people approached and stopped nearby to rest. About twelve or thirteen individuals, led by two fierce, sharp-eyed middle-aged men in leather armor, carrying a faint wild aura. Silas vaguely sensed these two were strong, far stronger than he was now.
The rest were young people, well-dressed but divided into two groups. One cluster surrounded an arrogant-looking blonde youth, the other led by a determined brunette girl, beside whom stood a robust grey wolf.
A tall, thin young man was complaining to the blonde youth about the awful conditions of this place. Another, shorter and rounder youth ingratiatingly added, "Just endure a little longer, Young Master Lynn. After this practical training trip, you can prepare to advance to the Second Rank! Just follow the family rules, kill a First Rank peak Witchblood clansman, use their soul as a sacrifice, and you can receive the Viscount's bestowal, directly inheriting powerful spiritual energy!"
The youth named Lynn snorted, deliberately glancing toward the girl's group, his voice full of scorn: "Naturally. This is the noble and orthodox path to advancement! Far better than some who choose the path of the Beast Taming Art, deluding themselves into thinking they can fuse with a Second Rank magical beast to break through! It might be a step above the Beast Transformation Art practiced by slaves who become neither human nor beast, but it's still an unorthodox path, a last resort for external surnames and branch families who serve our Greenwood family!"
A black-haired youth behind the girl immediately retorted angrily, "Lynn! The Beast Taming Art fuses the power of magical beasts into oneself, and retaining minor features is inconsequential! The power comes honorably! If Miss Lina can successfully fuse with a Second Rank Windshadow Wolf, her strength will increase tremendously!"
Lynn laughed exaggeratedly: "Fuse? Sounds nice! It's just being a more advanced version of 'beast-like'! Power comes from bestowal, from bloodline, from order! That is the way of nobility! Those slight bestial traits of yours are, in the eyes of true nobility, an indelible mark!"
The girl named Lina turned around, her voice cool but unwavering: "Your power comes from others' grant and can be taken back. The power I gain from fusing with Windshadow belongs to me, and no one can take it away. As for the traits..." she lifted her chin slightly, "they are proof of power, not a mark of shame."
"Insolence! How dare a mere retainer's daughter question bestowal?!" Lynn snapped, as if stung.
One of the middle-aged retainers immediately stepped forward, his voice grave: "Young Master, Miss, watch your words! This place is dangerous. Completing the family's training mission, honing practical combat ability, and returning safely is the priority! Young Master Lynn, Miss Lina, your paths to advancement may differ, but both serve the family."
Their conversation fell clearly upon Silas's ears.
Essence Grace City… The Greenwood Family!
Icy killing intent momentarily pierced through his concealed state before he forcibly suppressed it. A rock-like calmness took over.
He keenly grasped the key information: That Lynn needed a Witchblood soul for sacrifice, and that Lina needed to fuse with a Second Rank magical beast to break through.
He looked at the two clearly discordant groups, then recalled the spirit fruit beneficial to the soul and the terrifying Second Rank mid-level guardian beast in the valley. A plan to let them fight each other instantly formed and perfected in his mind.
That strange fruit would be an irresistible temptation for Lynn, who needed a "soul sacrifice." And that Second Rank mid-level Puffadder Viper, with its strength and venom, was the perfect object to test the "practical combat ability" of those two Beast Taming Art Second Rank initial retainers and these young masters and misses. Even... for that Lina who needed to fuse with a Second Rank beast, might this powerful viper also be a potential target?
Regardless of the outcome, a good show of dogs biting dogs was about to unfold under his guidance.
A cold curve touched Silas's lips as he silently retreated deeper into the forest, beginning to devise how to be an untraceable "guide."