As Yang walked further into the forest, he felt a clear shift in how his inner instinct behaved. The deeper he went, the more it kept acting up. But instead of the blood-freezing terror it used to induce at the sign of danger, now he only felt gentle urges to move left or right. It was like having a navigation system built into him, constantly adjusting his path to keep him safe while still allowing him to move forward.
Yang walked with confidence in the inner instinct's guidance. Some might consider that stupid, especially considering the last time he'd blindly followed it had led him to unbearable agony. But now that he was past the pain, Yang felt it had been worth it. After all, he was now searching to hunt down animals with beast cores intentionally, willing to go through the same agony again in order to gain the benefits.
The forest around him was changing as he ventured deeper. Yang had become rather familiar with the types of plants in the forest over the past six months, could identify most of the common trees and shrubs by sight even if he can't name them. But now he was coming across species he'd never seen before, either in the village or in the parts of the forest he'd explored. Trees with bark that seemed to shimmer in the dappled sunlight. Shrubs with leaves that were almost blue instead of green. Flowers in colors he didn't have names for.
Yang feared he might have to spend the night in the forest. He was going much deeper now, and it was unlikely he'd be able to make it back to his shelter by nightfall. This was the reason he was keeping near the river, making sure its sound remained within his hearing range so he could track where he was going and have access to water. He'd brought some provisions with him, dried fish and meat wrapped in plant fiber, and he planned to forage and hunt while searching for magical beasts.
He saw more animals as he got deeper into the forest. Snakes coiled in bushes and draped over tree branches, their scales catching the light. Colorful insects that looked like flying jewels, buzzing between flowers. Small mammals darting through the undergrowth. If he hadn't walked in here by himself, Yang would have believed he'd somehow crossed into a completely different forest.
He was carefully making his way around a thick cluster of ferns when he felt the instinct give a sharp nudge toward a direction on his right. Yang turned immediately, slowing and silencing his steps. He took his bow from his back and notched an arrow, moving forward with practiced caution.
He made sure to stay hidden behind trees and bushes as he approached. When he got closer, he saw an animal unlike any he'd encountered before. It was a small four-legged mammal, about the size of a large rabbit, feeding on a bush of berries. Yang recognized the plant immediately. It was exactly the same type he'd almost died from eating months ago, the fern berries that looked identical to star berries.
The bush here was large and robust, heavy with berries. The creature eating them seemed completely unaffected by what should have been deadly poison.
Yang hid himself behind a tree trunk and carefully took aim. This creature was smaller than the fireball goat he'd killed. But in a world of magic, was size really an indicator of strength? He didn't think so. That goat had almost roasted him into a piece of coal despite being relatively small. Who knew what this tiny animal was capable of?
Yang carefully released the arrow. It flew true and struck the creature in the side. The animal let out a high-pitched squeal and tried to run, but its legs gave out after only a few steps.
Instead of immediately going toward his kill, Yang carefully changed position, circling around to view it from another angle. He notched another arrow and shot again to make sure it was truly dead. The creature didn't move after the second arrow struck.
Yang approached cautiously, his knife already drawn. He knelt beside the animal and carefully slit its throat, holding it up to help drain the blood faster with gravity's assistance. Better to be thorough than to be surprised by a half-dead beast with unknown powers.
Once he felt the animal had bled out sufficiently, Yang tied the carcass to his waist with a length of rope and started following the sound of the river to get closer to the water. He needed to clean and butcher his kill before it started to spoil.
He reached the river's edge and looked across the wide expanse of water. On the other side, a herd of deer-like animals stood drinking. They looked up at his approach, their eyes reflecting the afternoon light, but they kept drinking. The river was so wide that there was no chance of either party being able to cross it. They were safe from each other, separated by the flowing water.
Yang knelt at the river's edge and washed the carcass thoroughly, then began butchering and cleaning it. His movements were efficient now after months of practice. When he got to the head, he used his axe to carefully break open the skull, making sure to strike away from the forehead where the core should be located.
Once the skull cracked open, Yang found what he was looking for. A stone smaller than the core from the goat, almost pinkish orange in color and glowing faintly in the fading light.
He felt excitement radiating from the inner instinct, a warmth in his chest that urged him to consume the core immediately. But thankfully, the instinct had learned. It knew that the open forest floor was no place to go through agony, even in order to achieve power. Yang carefully wrapped the core in a scrap of cloth and placed it inside his shirt, tucked securely against his skin.
He needed to find shelter nearby before the day's light ran out. He needed a safe place to rest, and if possible, he should make a fire.
Yang gathered dry wood and kindling from the area around the riverside. He arranged them carefully and used his fire starting technique, rubbing a stick in a groove until an ember formed. Soon he had a proper fire burning, small but warm and comforting in the growing dusk.
He set about cooking the meat from his kill. He'd eat what he could now and keep the rest for later. It was a small animal, thankfully small enough that he could carry the remaining meat with him without too much burden.
Yang roasted chunks of meat on wooden skewers, turning them carefully over the flames. The smell made his stomach growl with hunger. When the meat was cooked through, he ate directly from the skewers, savoring the hot food. It tasted gamey but good, different from the rabbits and foxes he usually caught in his traps.
He kept the remaining meat in a pouch he'd made from plant fiber, then smothered the fire with dirt to extinguish it completely. Leaving a fire burning in the forest overnight would be dangerous, possibly attracting unwanted attention from beasts or setting the dry undergrowth ablaze.
After that, with sunset approaching rapidly, Yang went a few dozen meters into the forest from the riverside. He found a strong tree with thick branches starting about ten feet up the trunk. The climb was easy with his enhanced strength. He found a comfortable position where a large branch met the trunk, creating a natural seat.
Yang also used a length of rope to tie his torso to the trunk securely. If he jolted awake or shifted in his sleep, he'd have some chance of catching himself and preventing a fall that could break bones or worse.
After securing himself, Yang relaxed against the rough bark and looked up through the canopy. The sky was turning from blue to purple to black, stars beginning to emerge one by one. The moon rose, nearly full, casting silver light through the leaves.
The forest was alive with sounds. Insects chirping, night birds calling, the distant splash of something entering the river. But up in his tree, Yang felt relatively safe. Nothing could sneak up on him here without him hearing it climb.
He just watched the stars and listened to the forest breathing around him. He didn't know when exhaustion finally claimed him, but at some point his eyes closed and consciousness slipped away.