Chapter 74: The Lion's Pride
The forest clearing throbbed with raw life.
Each gust of wind carried the scent of moss, soil, and lingering sweat, mixing with the metallic tang of blood that had seeped into the ground over countless battles. Shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy in thin, trembling spears, glinting against the sweat on Lin Xuan's bare shoulders.
He stood in the center—alone but not.
Encircling him were the five beasts of the forest: Yinlong the Silent Fang, Xiongdi the Ironhide, Yuanmo the Stonefist, Huli the Swift Claw, and Xiangzun the Earthshaker. Each was a titan in its own right, their eyes glimmering with ancient intelligence and quiet challenge.
Lin Xuan's breathing came slow and measured. His cultivation remained sealed, his veins heavy with the weight of mortality, yet his movements carried the sharpness of something primal. The Celestial Unity Crest on his back was dim—silent as a vow not yet fulfilled.
For weeks, he had endured their training, every dawn another test of body and will. His skin bore scars like battle scripts, his hands were calloused from gripping stone, tusk, and earth alike. But today, the beasts had gathered not for teaching—today, they would see whether the human before them had truly earned his place among them.
"Again," rumbled Xiongdi, its voice deep as thunder rolling through the valley.
Lin Xuan tightened his stance, his fingers curling into the soil. Before he could brace, a shadow blotted out the light—Xiangzun the Earthshaker lumbered forward, each step shaking the ground like a drumbeat. With an earth-trembling thud, the colossal elephant lowered itself, placing its immense weight squarely upon Lin Xuan's back.
The air left his lungs in a single, strangled gasp. His spine groaned, muscles screamed, and the dirt beneath his palms cracked. The air thickened, heavy with the scent of crushed grass and sweat.
He could feel every vein straining. A lesser man would have shattered beneath that pressure. But Lin Xuan gritted his teeth and began to move—slowly, stubbornly—arms trembling as he pushed the ground away.
"One…" His voice was hoarse, almost lost to the forest.
The beasts exchanged glances, their breathing slowing to match his rhythm.
"Two… three… four…"
By the time he reached five hundred, his lips bled from biting down too hard. At one thousand, his arms trembled so violently that each push-up looked like a desperate prayer.
"Come on, Xuan," he muttered under his breath. "You've borne worse than this."
"Foolish human," Huli purred from the shadows. "Why not rest? Even mountains bend with time."
Lin Xuan laughed weakly through clenched teeth. "Then let me break before I bend."
The count reached two thousand before his arms finally gave way. He fell forward, chest heaving, sweat and dirt mixing in streaks across his face. Xiangzun's massive weight lifted with a soft trumpet, the beast stepping back with a nod of quiet approval.
The ground beneath Lin Xuan was cracked and sunken where he had stood. He lay there, laughing between gasps, the sound hoarse but alive.
Days blurred after that trial. The forest seemed to breathe with him now—its wind cooler, its rhythm slower. He had begun to move not as a man but as a creature of the wild.
But on the fifth day, something changed.
While practicing the Sky-Reaching Claw beneath a shaft of sunlight, Lin Xuan froze mid-motion. A strange, scorching pulse erupted from deep within his dantian, spreading like wildfire through his veins. His vision flickered; the world dimmed and brightened in pulses.
Then his eyes snapped open—black sclera, pupils glowing faint green, burning with a light that wasn't his.
"Lin Xuan?" Yinlong's growl rumbled, uncertain.
The next instant, he vanished.
A blur of motion tore through the clearing. Lin Xuan's fist met Yuanmo's chest with a resounding crack, sending the massive gorilla staggering backward. He spun, footwork flowing like water, dodging a swipe from Huli and countering with an elbow that split the air with a sonic snap.
Each movement was too fast, too precise.
No thought, no hesitation. Only instinct—pure, merciless, terrifying.
"His body's fighting on its own!" Yinlong barked, backing away.
Yuanmo roared, slamming both fists into the ground, sending rocks flying like shrapnel. Lin Xuan slipped between them with inhuman grace, his Celestial Glide merging with a primal rhythm that defied all logic. His punches found the beast's ribs, stomach, jaw—each strike perfectly timed, perfectly brutal.
Yuanmo stumbled, dazed. Lin Xuan's breathing grew erratic, his body twitching with surges of violent energy. His aura flared green, rippling through the clearing like heat over metal.
Then—silence.
He stood for a heartbeat longer before his knees buckled. The glow in his eyes faded, leaving behind exhaustion deeper than any wound.
The beasts closed in cautiously, their massive shadows falling over him.
"What was that?" Huli whispered, tail flicking nervously.
Yinlong's hackles were raised. "That wasn't human technique… that was something else."
Before they could move closer, the air trembled.
A wave of spiritual pressure crashed over the clearing like a storm, forcing even Xiongdi to take a step back. The scent of lavender and moonlight drifted through the tension, and from the shadows emerged a woman.
She was barefoot, her black hair cascading down like ink in water, her robes whispering against the grass. Her eyes glowed faintly gold, soft yet commanding.
"Who dares—" Xiongdi began, but she raised a hand, and the air grew still.
"Apologies," she said, her voice lilting and calm, her words perfectly fluent in beast tongue. "I didn't mean to alarm you."
The beasts froze. A human speaking their language? Impossible.
Anika knelt beside Lin Xuan, brushing the hair from his forehead. "You've done well, my love," she murmured, almost to herself. "But you've pushed too far again."
Yinlong growled, his tone wary. "Your love? Who are you, woman?"
Without looking up, she replied softly, "Anika. Lin Xuan's wife—and the only one who can explain what you just saw."
The air thickened again, but not from power. From disbelief.
Anika's hand hovered above Lin Xuan's chest, a soft blue glow emanating from her palm. "He's been touched by what I call Primal Instinct—a survival state where body and spirit merge to act without thought. It's rare, dangerous, and beautiful all at once. When threatened, it awakens, and his body moves as if guided by a divine will. But this time…" She hesitated. "This time, it evolved into something worse—True Primal Instinct."
Huli tilted her head, curiosity outweighing fear. "He fought like a storm given flesh. But if this is power, why does he suffer?"
Anika smiled sadly. "Because his body can't yet contain it. True Primal Instinct feeds on emotion—fear, loss, rage. It gives him perfect movement but strips away control. When it ends, all that remains is emptiness."
Yuanmo rubbed the scar on his chest where Lin Xuan's fist had struck. "Then he nearly killed me… while unconscious."
"Not unconscious," Anika corrected softly. "Unbound."
The beasts exchanged uneasy glances. Even the mighty Xiangzun bowed its head slightly, murmuring, "Then this is both his weapon and his curse."
Anika nodded. "Exactly. If he learns to master it, he'll surpass even divine beasts. But if not—he'll destroy himself before any foe gets the chance."
She brushed a thumb across Lin Xuan's cheek, her tone lowering to a whisper. "You never learn to stop bleeding for others, do you?"
Her voice cracked on the last word, barely audible.
Night fell, soft and heavy. The beasts formed a wide circle around Lin Xuan's resting body, their massive silhouettes glowing faintly under the silver moonlight.
Anika sat with her back against a fallen log, Lin Xuan's head resting on her lap. She looked up at Yinlong, who lingered near the edge of the circle.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "He'll need all of you before long."
The wolf's ears flicked. "He has our respect, human woman. Few can earn that. We'll guard him until he wakes."
Her lips curved in a small, grateful smile. "Then perhaps this world isn't as cruel as he believes."
A faint murmur escaped Lin Xuan's lips—her name, barely a whisper. Her eyes softened. "I'm here, Xuan'er," she whispered back, her hand brushing against his scarred chest. "I always will be."
The beasts said nothing more. The only sounds were the soft chorus of nocturnal creatures and the rhythmic beat of a heart refusing to surrender.
Dawn came slowly, painting the world gold. Lin Xuan awoke to the rustle of leaves and the warmth of sunlight crawling across his face. For a long time, he didn't move. Every muscle screamed. His head throbbed. But the air smelled of life again—and Anika.
She sat beside him, her raven hair tied loosely, her expression unreadable.
"You're awake," she said gently.
He groaned, pushing himself up on shaky arms. "What are you doing outside my mind again?"
Her lips quirked. "Outside? I was never only in your mind, Xuan'er. I told you—I'm your wife."
He froze, his tone sharp. "Stop saying that. You're not my wife. You're… something else."
She met his glare without flinching. "Maybe. But tell me this—why does your heart quicken every time I call you that?"
He didn't answer. Couldn't. Instead, he stood, turning his back to her.
The beasts watched from afar, silent witnesses to the unspoken tension between human and spirit.
He dropped into Heaven-Pressing Stance again, palms pressing into the dirt. "I don't need distractions," he muttered. "Not from gods. Not from ghosts."
"Or from love?" she asked softly.
His arms trembled, not from strain this time, but from something he refused to name. "Love gets people killed."
"Then why do you keep surviving?" she whispered.
He didn't reply. Only pushed harder against the earth, every breath a war between heart and will.
That night, Lin Xuan retreated to the cave near the river, the same one that had sheltered him on his first night in the forest. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of damp stone. He sat cross-legged, eyes closed, the Celestial Unity Crest faintly pulsing behind him.
Anika entered silently, her steps light, her shadow stretching long across the cave wall.
"You'll understand soon," she murmured, seating herself beside him.
He didn't open his eyes. "I don't need to understand. I need to grow strong enough that no one has to save me again."
A sad smile ghosted across her lips. "Then you'll never stop bleeding, Xuan'er. Because power without love is just another kind of cage."
The cave fell silent again. Only the wind outside answered her words.
For a while, neither spoke.
Outside, the forest whispered—branches swaying, beasts stirring, the world moving on.
Inside, a fragile peace settled between them, woven from exhaustion and the quiet promise of something that neither dared name yet.
And beneath that peace, somewhere deep within the forest's heart, the ground trembled—just once, faintly—
as if something ancient had begun to wake.