"You sure are a fast cultivator," a deep, amused voice stated from the shadows. "Reaching the second stage of Body Refining in a single day is no small feat."
Raven Hazelwood stepped into the moonlight, his slow, deliberate applause echoing unnervingly in the silent clearing.
He wore a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Instead, his gaze was sharp and analytical, like a master craftsman inspecting a promising but flawed piece of raw material.
"It was just luck," Damian bit out, his voice a low growl. He clutched the bloody kitchen knife tighter, his knuckles white. The triumphant warmth from his first kill had evaporated, replaced by an icy dread.
"So? Did you follow me?" A cold glint hardened his eyes. His mind was already racing, calculating. If Raven attacked, he would die. That was a certainty.
But death was no longer an end. He would come back, right here, to this moment. He would fight Raven again. And again. And again.
The thought was grim, but a cold resolve settled in his heart. He would learn from every death, memorize every one of Raven's movements, until he found a way to win. This would not be his final death.
Raven's smile widened, seemingly unfazed by Damian's hostility. "I did," he admitted calmly. "But I only wanted to see where you were heading. I didn't expect it to be for such a...brutish combat."
"That's still none of your business," Damian said coldly, every muscle in his body coiled tight, ready to spring.
"Are you talking to me like this because I followed you, or is it because of my family name?" Raven asked, genuine curiosity in his tone. Rather than being offended, he seemed amused by Damian's defiance.
"Both," Damian spat, pushing himself to his feet. His legs still felt unsteady, the new strength still felt strange, but the progress in control was there.
"Fair enough," Raven conceded with a shrug. "I was surprised you broke through so soon after your... bold declaration in the lecture hall. My curiosity got the better of me, I admit."
He paused, his expression turning serious. "As for my family, I am not fond of their methods. My father is an elder, but he is not the Patriarch. I do not agree with every decision made in the main household." He met Damian's wary gaze. "The only thing I can say is this: while you are in this sect, I will protect you with the best of my abilities from any Hazelwood youngster"
Damian was stunned into silence for a few seconds. The offer was so far from what he expected that his mind struggled to process it. "...Why?" he finally managed to ask, his voice laced with suspicion. He couldn't comprehend the logic of the hulking figure in front of him.
"Because I like your confidence," Raven said, his grin returning. "And your cultivation speed is on par with my own. It's decided. You will be my rival. We will push each other to greater heights, sharpening ourselves against one another until we stand at the peak!" He seemed genuinely delighted with this conclusion, as if he had just solved a complex and satisfying puzzle.
'What type of cracked-up, battle-obsessed person is he!?' Damian thought, completely bewildered. The logic was insane, but as he studied Raven's earnest expression, one thing became clear: he wasn't lying. He truly didn't want to harm him. For now.
"Sure, I guess," Damian finally relented, letting out a slow breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Whatever you say."
"Excellent!" Raven beamed. "Now, about your fighting style. It's crude. All raw strength, no technique. You waste far too much stamina and power in each move." He stepped forward, mirroring the wild punch Damian had used on the boar. "When you strike, you can't forget two things: your form and your breathing. Power comes from the ground, through your legs, and is channeled through a stable core. Your breath focuses the Qi."
Raven's entire demeanor shifted. He took a stance, and suddenly he seemed rooted to the earth. He demonstrated the punch, but this time it was different. It was a fluid, explosive movement. The air itself seemed to crackle as his fist shot out, stopping an inch from a tree trunk. A powerful gust of wind erupted from the point of impact, kicking up a cloud of leaves and dirt.
"By combining these two things, you could have killed that boar in a single, efficient strike, instead of beating on it like a child throwing a tantrum." Raven's reasoning was simple: the stronger his rival, the faster his own growth would be.
"You get it?" he asked, turning back to Damian.
"A little," Damian said, though in reality, his mind had mapped every single twitch of muscle, every subtle shift in weight. He didn't understand the theory yet, but his uncanny memory had perfectly recorded the form.
"Good. That's progress. Now you can—"
SKREEEEEEEEEEE!
A piercing, blood-curdling cry ripped through the night. It was a sound of pure, unrestrained violence that vibrated through the soles of their feet and sent a flock of birds scattering into the sky.
Damian froze, his blood turning to ice. No beast in this outer-outer zone should be capable of producing such a terrifying scream.
Raven's face went pale, his mentor-like confidence instantly evaporating. "That's a Stage 5 Wild Bear," he hissed, his voice tight with panic. "Run!"
He didn't wait for a reply. He spun and sprinted away, his powerful legs carrying him through the undergrowth at an incredible speed.
The time for lessons was over. Two Stage 2 disciples, one of whom couldn't even control his own strength, stood no chance against a Stage 5 beast. Damian scrambled after him, his heart hammering against his ribs.
The bear's thundering footsteps grew closer, each impact shaking the ground. It was impossibly fast, crashing through trees and bushes as if they were made of paper.
The scent of Damian's blood, still lingering in the air from the boar fight, was a beacon leading the predator straight to them.
"It's following my blood!" Damian screamed, gasping for breath. "Split up! Run in another direction!" He wasn't a saint, but he wouldn't let someone who had just offered him help die because of him.
"Shut up and run straight!" Raven shouted back over his shoulder, his voice strained. "We're almost at the end of the array! That beast can't cross it!"
Their minds were filled with two warring thoughts: the raw, primal fear of the monster closing in, and the desperate will to survive, to reach that invisible line of safety just ahead.
They could see it now—the slight shimmer in the air that marked the edge of the training zone. But just as hope began to bloom, a massive shadow blotted out the moonlight. With a deafening roar, the beast leaped high over their heads, landing in front of them with an earth-shaking THUD.
Their path was blocked.
"We are screwed," Damian breathed, staring up at the mountain of fur and muscle. The bear was easily three times his size, its fur matted with dried blood and dirt, and its eyes burned with pure, murderous intent.
"Now," Raven said, skidding to a halt beside him, his face grim but resolute. "We can only fight." He took a deep fighting stance, and an aura of power seemed to flare around him, making his figure seem even stronger than before.
Following his lead, Damian forced his trembling body into the stance Raven had just shown him, mimicking the form and matching his breathing to the technique.
The bear seemed offended by the audacity of these two weak humans. It rose to its full height and roared, a wave of sound so powerful it shook the very leaves from the trees.
"I'll divert its attention!" Raven yelled, his voice cutting through the roar. "Go for its stomach! It's the weakest part of its body!"
Without waiting for a reply, Raven immediately darted to the left. Understanding the plan, Damian mirrored him, moving to the right, his kitchen knife held in a reverse grip.
The bear, momentarily confused by their split formation, swiveled its massive head, its tiny, hate-filled eyes trying to decide which human to tear apart first. It locked onto Raven, the larger, more powerful-smelling threat.