Yang ran fast through the forest. Dodging low branches with practiced ease. His feet found purchase on roots and stones without conscious thought. His body moved through the dense forest like water flowing downhill.
He thought back to the past years. When he'd entered the forest that terrible night Grandpa Chen died, he never imagined he'd still be here. Never thought he'd become what he was now.
Yang remembered the first fight with the lizard-like beast. The most dangerous beast he'd faced at the time. He could still recall the blood-curdling terror he'd felt in that moment. Now he regularly hunted creatures far stronger. That lizard would be easy prey today.
Beast cores had become routine. After that first lizard, Yang had lost all track of time in the forest. His days blurred together in an endless cycle of hunting magical beasts and consuming their cores.
The first few dozen times, the agony had knocked him unconscious. He'd faint and wake days later with no idea how much time had passed. The repeated blackouts destroyed any sense of calendar or season until he completely gave up on keeping time.
His body grew stronger with each core consumed. Eventually, temperature stopped being a reliable measure either. Winter's bite no longer reached him through his enhanced flesh. Summer's heat barely registered.
Yang had accumulated so many cores that even the best ones he found now barely affected him. The increases were negligible. Too small to feel. That also meant he no longer fell unconscious in agony when consuming them. His body had adapted. Grown accustomed to the transformation.
After killing the lizard, Yang had spent days traveling back to his cave by the river. He'd eaten the blue core there. Prepared for the pain. The agony came as expected. But when he woke, he was considerably more powerful. Strong enough that the forest's dangers became challenges instead of death sentences.
His life became hunting and eating beast cores. Using the flesh, tendons, bones, and furs to make clothes and weapons. He'd gone through many weapons over the years. Each one breaking or wearing out until he crafted something better.
Now Yang was an expert with spear and bow. He could shoot while running and hit targets without breaking stride.
The quality of his weapons had increased dramatically. His current bow he'd been using for some time. His spear for about twice that. Both were refined enough to survive fights with magical beasts without shattering or bending beyond repair.
Yang only returned to the shelter to sleep or rest. Otherwise, his time was spent hunting and traveling. He'd found different edges to the forest over the years. North, south, east, west. He'd mapped the entire territory in his mind through constant exploration.
Only once had he encountered people from his old village.
Yang had hidden before they could spot him. But he'd watched them from concealment. A hunting party. Five men with crude spears, nets, and farm tools. All Yang could do was stare in wonder. So long since he'd seen another human. Heard human voices speaking words instead of animal cries.
Yang had followed them secretly for days. At first, their language sounded foreign. The words were meaningless sounds. But gradually comprehension returned. It was the same language he'd spoken with Grandpa. Hearing it again almost brought tears to his eyes.
At night, while the hunting party slept, Yang kept his distance and practiced speaking. Whispering words to himself in the darkness. Testing his tongue and throat. Making sounds he hadn't made in years. It took days after the hunters left for him to sound remotely like they had.
The realization terrified him. If he'd waited longer, maybe he would have lost his ability to understand spoken language entirely. Maybe he would have become more beast than man.
Yang's decision crystallized during those days of following and listening.
His ability to increase strength had ended in the forest. The beast cores no longer worked. Nothing left here to help him grow stronger. He needed to find a way to improve further. To understand this magic or cultivation or whatever power flowed through this world.
Yang was unnaturally strong now. Fast and durable beyond any normal human. But he'd found no magical abilities in himself. No qi like the web novels from his previous life had described. Just enhanced physical capabilities.
Yang needed knowledge. Training. Understanding of how cultivation actually worked instead of blindly consuming cores and hoping for the best.
He planned to return to the village.
Revenge had been out of the question when he was weaker. Yang would never have wasted the life that survived at the cost of Grandpa's sacrifice just to die attempting vengeance. But now he was strong enough.
Strong enough to destroy those who'd had a hand in killing Grandpa Chen.
He would make them pay. Liu Wei and the Zhao brothers who'd helped him. Then Yang would leave this area entirely. Search for a larger human civilization beyond the isolated village.
Find cities or towns where cultivators actually lived and trained. Where he could learn a proper path forward instead of stumbling through the dark.
Yang's hands tightened on his spear as he ran. Grandpa's gentle smile flashed through his memory. Followed immediately by the image of Liu Wei's knife and Grandpa falling. The thud of his body hitting the floor.
Soon, Yang thought.
Soon he would avenge the man who'd given everything to keep one orphaned child alive.
Then he would find his path in this world of magic and monsters and make Grandpa proud. Wherever that path might lead.