The forest did not care that Lin Chen had fallen from grace.
It breathed the same way it always had—slow, indifferent, filled with hidden movement. Leaves rustled. Insects hummed. Somewhere deeper within, something large shifted its weight.
Lin Chen moved carefully.
Each step sent a dull ache through his body, a reminder of the unstable power coiled inside him. He adjusted quickly—shorter strides, controlled breathing, slower pace. Recklessness would kill him faster than any enemy.
"You said enemies were inevitable," Lin Chen murmured. "Do beasts count?"
"They are honest enemies," the voice replied."They do not pretend to be your friends."
Lin Chen almost smiled.
He followed the signs easily—broken branches, disturbed soil, the faint metallic scent of blood. A wounded creature. Not strong. Not weak.
Perfect.
He crouched behind a fallen log and parted the leaves just enough to see.
A Greyback Wolf.
Its fur was matted, one hind leg dragging slightly as it limped toward a stream. Its eyes were sharp despite the injury, scanning constantly.
Ordinarily, even an injured Greyback Wolf was dangerous to a low-level cultivator.
Lin Chen was neither low-level nor cultivator.
He was unranked.
"Don't rush," the voice warned.
Lin Chen nodded faintly.
He waited.
When the wolf lowered its head to drink, Lin Chen moved.
He did not leap. Did not shout. He stepped forward and compressed his strength, just as he had during cultivation—drawing it inward instead of letting it explode outward.
The ground cracked beneath his foot.
The wolf reacted instantly, spinning with a snarl—
Too late.
Lin Chen's fist connected with its skull.
There was no dramatic clash.
Just a dull, heavy sound.
The wolf collapsed, lifeless before it hit the ground.
Lin Chen stood there, chest rising and falling, staring at his own hand.
It was uninjured.
No recoil. No strain.
Only a faint tremor beneath the skin, as if the cold energy was unsettled.
"Efficient," the voice said."But wasteful."
Lin Chen frowned. "I killed it cleanly."
"You used too much force," the voice replied."Your body paid for that excess."
As if on cue, a sharp pain flared through Lin Chen's shoulder. He hissed and rolled it slowly, adjusting his posture until the pain dulled.
Control.
That was the lesson.
He knelt beside the wolf and began working quickly, cutting fur, harvesting meat, separating usable bones. His movements were practiced—skills learned long before cultivation, back when survival skills were mandatory for outer disciples.
As he worked, he felt it.
Something faint.
Warm.
The cold pressure inside him stirred, reacting to the lingering vitality in the beast's body.
Lin Chen paused.
"Did you feel that?" he asked.
The voice was quiet for a long moment.
"…Yes."
Lin Chen's eyes narrowed.
"Can I absorb it?"
Another pause.
"In time," the voice said."But if you attempt it now, your body will tear itself apart."
Lin Chen exhaled slowly.
"So that's the path."
"One of them," the voice replied.
He finished preparing the carcass and stood, wiping his hands clean. The forest seemed different now—less threatening, more… honest.
This place did not care who he was.
Only whether he was strong enough to stay alive.
Lin Chen looked deeper into the woods.
"Then I'll learn," he said. "Properly."
The cold energy within him pulsed once, almost approvingly.