The carriage wheels rumbled steadily along the rugged forest road, kicking up dust beneath the hooves of the old draft horse. Dense trees flanked both sides of the road, their shadows merging into a dark tunnel beneath the early morning light. A faint chill lingered in the air, yet a quiet tension simmered beneath the calm.
Inside the carriage, Sanhartha sat opposite Mo Fan, hands resting lightly on his knees, posture straight and composed. His gaze fell upon the passing scenery, but his mind was already far ahead—deep within the Soul Hunting Forest.
Mo Fan broke the silence first, his voice low and steady.
"San boy, since you asked me to accompany you, you must already have a soul beast in mind. And not a low-year one, I assume. You would not have come to me otherwise."
Sanhartha nodded slightly.
"Yes, Uncle Mo. My first choice is the Ember-Scaled Lizard, a pure fire-attribute beast with high control ability. If we cannot find it, we may settle for a Blazing Ridge Gecko or Heat-Tail Salamander."
Mo Fan raised his brows in surprise.
"Oh? You're well-prepared. Even though I've hunted soul beasts most of my life, I rarely bothered remembering so many classifications. You know more than most soul masters twice your age."
Sanhartha rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of embarrassment flashing across his usually calm expression.
"I've been reading a lot in the Spirit Hall library. I only understand a little."
Mo Fan chuckled softly, shaking his head.
"If this is 'a little,' then most soul masters know nothing."
He leaned slightly forward.
"Tell me more about this Ember-Scaled Lizard. Its environment, weaknesses, how to judge its years—everything."
Sanhartha spoke without hesitation, voice measured:
"The Ember-Scaled Lizard lives near warm stone regions, volcanic soils, or thermal marshland. Its scales are bright red below fifty years, dark crimson between fifty and one hundred, and faint gold streaks appear after a century. Its weakest point is the joint at the base of the tail. If struck hard or disrupted by freezing force, its flame circulation collapses temporarily. It has high flame control ability and produces stable soul power after absorption—ideal for early core foundation building."
Mo Fan listened quietly, eyes narrowing with increasing approval.
"Good. Very good. A soul master should understand the prey before hunting. Charging blindly is how people die."
Sanhartha nodded, acknowledging silently.
He had already seen too many arrogant fools die in novels of his previous life — and now he was living in a world where one mistake meant real death.
The road narrowed, the forest growing thicker. The air grew heavier as they approached the entrance of the Soul Hunting Forest—a training ground constructed jointly by Spirit Hall and the Heaven Dou Empire.
Several armored guards stood at the entrance, armed with spears and crossbows. Their expressions were cold, their eyes sharp. The smell of blood faintly lingered on their armor.
Mo Fan stepped forward, retrieving a bronze token marked with Spirit Hall's insignia—the Soul Hunting Order.
"Senior Soul Master," a guard said respectfully after checking the token, "you may enter."
The heavy iron gate creaked open.
The moment they stepped inside, Mo Fan's entire presence changed.
His relaxed demeanor hardened, shoulders tightening, gaze sharpening. His steps became silent, every movement controlled and precise. The killing intent of a veteran hunter flashed beneath his calm exterior.
The forest interior was far darker than outside. Thick canopies blocked the sunlight, leaving shifting patterns of shadow dancing across the ground. The air was damp and filled with the scent of moss, rotting leaves, and faint traces of blood.
Mo Fan spoke without turning his head.
"San boy, from here onward—stay sharp. This is no academy practice ground. Every soul beast here wants your life."
Sanhartha's expression remained calm.
"Yes, Uncle Mo."
He slid silently into Mo Fan's footsteps, his breathing steady, his senses expanded. Though young, the cold determination in his eyes resembled someone long seasoned by discipline.
Mo Fan moved with the instinct of a seasoned hunter. His eyes scanned the surroundings constantly, noting every broken twig, every disturbed patch of soil, every rustle in the undergrowth.
Sanhartha observed quietly, learning.
"Uncle Mo," Sanhartha asked softly, "have you hunted here before?"
Mo Fan paused for a brief moment before answering.
"Many times. When I led the Starlight Hunters, we relied on places like this to survive."
His voice dropped, memories flickering behind his eyes.
"This forest holds both wealth… and graves."
Sanhartha did not speak further.
The silence between them was not empty — it carried respect.
They continued deeper. Bird cries and distant roars echoed through the trees. At times, the brush rustled with passing shadows. The deeper they went, the more the air throbbed with predator instinct.
Mo Fan suddenly raised his hand.
Sanhartha stopped instantly.
A pair of glowing red eyes shone from a bush ahead — a low-level beast growling a warning.
Mo Fan's voice was soft but firm:
"Not worth the effort. We move."
Only after walking for a long while did he speak again, tone hushed.
"We're close to the thermal ridge area. Ember-Scaled Lizards favor places where the ground is warm and rocks are burnt black. Stay alert — they may appear in groups."
Sanhartha nodded, fingertips tingling with anticipation.
This was it — the first step on the road of a true soul master.
His heart beat quietly, steady and controlled.
He exhaled slowly, eyes sharpening.
My first soul ring… I will obtain it myself.
Together, they descended the rocky slope ahead, where faint threads of heat coiled upward from the ground — like whispers of fire beneath stone.
The hunt was about to begin.