Five days.
That's how long I'd spent in the Rock Forests, carving out a routine that was equal parts survival and stubborn pride. Wake at dawn. Swing spear until arms turned to jelly. Meditate until I either collapsed or hallucinated colors that didn't exist. Repeat until nightfall. It was mind-numbing, but necessary.
Thank the gods I made it so that cultivation was pretty simple. All one had to do was sit in a meditating position, draw in the natural qi from the world and circulate it throughout one's body, using the core located at the stomach as the base.
Right now, I had one ring of qi around my core, which meant that I was at the 1st Circle Of Cultivation, out of the 9 Circles. The thicker, and more vibrant the color of the ring of qi, the more stable one's base was, before ascending to the next circle.
And now here I was, standing on the edge of the southern forests, at the crest of a hill where the trees gave way to an endless view of the Five Elemental Domain.
It was… breathtaking.
The plains in the center stretched out like a golden sea, swaying gently in the winter breeze. Sunlight shimmered off the grass, so peaceful and serene that I almost wanted to believe it. Almost.
But I wasn't stupid.
I had written this world. I knew better.
The plains weren't empty.
THUD!
The ground gave a low groan, deep enough to rattle through the soles of my feet. Then the plains stirred. Not the way grass should ripple under the wind, but like an ocean shifting when something massive passed beneath.
A shadow broke the surface.
Green scales the size of wagon wheels slid through the grass, each plate ridged and ridged again, polished to a dull shimmer like beaten jade. They caught the winter light with every lazy roll of its body. The creature's spine arched, then kept arching, and kept going, until I realized I was watching dozens of meters of muscle and scale dragging across the earth as if the land itself were a pillow.
Then came the head.
Six horns jutted out from its skull, long and wickedly curved like blades of blackened ivory. They pierced upward and backward, each one larger than the trees dotting the southern forest, crowning the beast like a grotesque crown. Its whiskers trailed through the air like drifting smoke, catching faint sparks of static in the cold breeze.
The eyes opened next.
Twin lanterns of molten gold, wide enough that I could have curled into one and slept there like a hammock, narrowed with a slow, deliberate blink. The sound of its exhale rumbled through the valley, carrying the heat of a kiln across the plains. Grass crisped and bent under its breath.
It was sleeping—or at least, pretending to. But even asleep, it radiated the kind of weight that crushed the heart just to witness. A thing so big, so old, so certain of its supremacy that the world bent around it in deference.
My throat went dry. The name slipped out of me in a whisper I couldn't stop:
"The Guardian Serpentine Dragon of the Academy… Naga."
I smiled wryly. "What a magnificent beast I've written."
It's one thing to make a monster on paper—majestic, terrifying, unstoppable. It's another thing to see it breathing, sprawled across the plains like it owned the world, clearly sending a message.
The point was clear: the central plains were off-limits. I hadn't enrolled in the Academy. I hadn't undergone the student's Marking Ceremony. Without it, Naga wouldn't see me as a student, or even a person. Just a trespasser. An intruder. And intruders were, well… barbecue.
So, two options.
West—into the Water Swamps. A lovely vacation spot if you liked the stench of rotting fish, skin-eating leeches, and monsters that specialized in ambushes. Or east—into the Wind Canyons. Dangerous, yes. Unstable gravity, unpredictable gusts, birds the size of wagons. But also green, lush, alive. The lesser evil.
I sighed. "Looks like we're going through the canyons."
Something stirred under my shirt.
A little head popped out beneath my chin, scales the color of river stones, tongue flicking out to taste the air.
"Hi Angus, waking up so early?" I muttered, scratching the baby snake's chin with a finger. He flicked his tongue against my jawline, a ticklish rasp that made me grimace.
Angus. My only companion these past five days. I'd found him beaten half to death by bigger monsters and—like a sucker for cute weaklings—decided to play hero. Chased off his bullies, nursed him back with scraps, and in return he decided my chest was the best real estate in the forest. Now he coiled around me constantly, warm and oddly comforting, like a scaly scarf with an attitude.
"Guess it's just you and me, buddy," I told him, eyes shifting back to the horizon.
The canyons loomed to the east. Tall green ridges veined with shadows, their paths twisting like a labyrinth. A place of howling winds and treacherous steps, yes, but also my only way forward.
And with Naga napping in the center like the world's most terrifying guard dog, I'd rather take my chances with gravity playing tricks on me than having my spine snapped in half by a dragon the size of a cathedral.
So east it was.
Angus flicked his tongue again, like he agreed.
"Yeah," I said softly, more to myself than him. "East it is."
Funny thing about Angus? The system seemed to like him even more than I did.
When I'd scooped the baby rock snake up two days ago—half-dead and shaking after being cornered by its own kind—I thought I was just doing the bare minimum of a decent person. Feed it. rhelter it. Keep it alive. But then the system had chimed in, all cheerful and official, binding us together with a glowing thread I hadn't even realized was possible outside of theory:
[Master-Beast Contract Established.]
I didn't even know the system could do that. Guess it had a soft spot for strays.
Not that I was complaining. Having Angus around was… comforting. A reminder that I wasn't trudging through this place entirely alone, that I wasn't doomed to mumble to myself like some cave hermit for the next three weeks until the Hero finally arrived at the Academy. If not for the little guy, I'd probably be halfway insane already.
And Angus wasn't ordinary, either. Not by a long shot.
The system had identified him as a far descendant of a mythical-ranked being. I nearly choked when I saw it—my own system, pulling lore straight out of my half-forgotten notes. Of course I remembered the monster evolution mechanic. Unlike humans who built themselves up with mana or aura, monsters grew by eating. Devour, consume, assimilate, evolve. Each stage brought new flesh, new skills, new horrors.
Right now, Angus was at his most basic: tiny, fragile, with only the universal monster skill [Devour]. But from the way he'd been eyeing every carcass I tossed him, and the faint ripple I could feel through our bond, he was on the verge of his first evolution.
I'd miss the baby version. I really would. His forked tongue tickling my chin when he slithered up for affection was… unbearably cute. But sooner or later, he'd shed his scales and teeth into something bigger, sharper, stronger.
And I'd need him to.
Because I wasn't exactly alone anymore.
The growl came low, rumbling, from the brush.
My body stilled. Instinct pushed Angus back into the folds of my shirt, and my awareness spread outward, deeper than sight or sound. That was [Sense] at work—the first, most basic skill every cultivator unlocked when they became a cultivator. A blanket of perception unfurled from my core, mapping the life around me with steady pulses.
Five signatures snapped into clarity. Four smaller, one larger. Heavy. Predatory. All within five hundred meters, and closing fast.
The bushes ahead rustled, and they emerged.
Rock wolves.
Their hides weren't fur, but jagged shale plates, dark gray streaked with dust. Their teeth clinked like flint when they snapped their jaws, glowing faintly with inner energy. And at their head padded the alpha: taller, thicker, crystalline ridges streaking across its body like jagged glass forged under impossible pressure. Its eyes glittered with cruel intelligence as it growled, each breath scattering grit across the ground.
I let out a slow breath and slipped my hand around my spear. The haft was weathered, splintering at the grip. It wouldn't last much longer. Good thing I already had an idea where to find a replacement.
"Looks like wolf meat for lunch," I muttered, more for Angus's sake than mine. Oh, another thing I'd found out about the earthy, rocky, monsters in this part of the forest was that only their exteriors were rock hard, and eight out of ten times - their interiors were normal.
Angus's little head poked out, forked tongue tasting the air before retreating again. Smart boy. He'd eat well today.
I lowered my stance, point of the spear angling forward, body taut with focus.
The alpha's crystalline claws dug into the dirt, scraping lines across stone. Its pack spread out, encircling me, growls rolling like thunder.
I smiled, teeth sharp in the winter air.
"Come on, then."