As the first rays of dawn illuminated the cave, Xue Mo sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, his mind sharp and ready. The damp air of his temporary hideout filled him with a strange sense of calm, though urgency throbbed beneath the surface like a coiled spring. Since initiating the Blood Deity Art during the hunt, he had become acutely aware of the delicate balance he now walked—the looming risk of exposure and the promise of power.
Pulling on the simple robes of an outer sect disciple, he emerged from the cave. The fabric felt foreign on him now—a disguise more than a uniform. It was a mask to manipulate others' perceptions. Stepping outside, he gazed upon the sprawling Azure Sky Sect, magnificently perched atop the jagged peaks of the Azure Mountains.
The sect was an architectural marvel. Built into the cliffs, it seemed to rise organically from the rock, as though shaped by the mountains themselves. Towering stone walls surrounded the main courtyard, which pulsed with activity. Elegant pavilions with sweeping roofs—carved with dragons and phoenixes—encircled the space like silent guardians. Paths lined with blooming cherry blossom trees led to training grounds where disciples honed their skills, the petals dancing in the breeze like whispers from ancient spirits.
High above, spires pierced the heavens. These were the homes of the sect elders, each spire crafted like a drawn blade poised against the sky. Bathed in the morning light, they radiated history and power—monuments to the Azure Sky Sect's ancient legacy.
Xue Mo navigated the courtyard, passing groups of disciples exchanging information, sparring, or gossiping idly. Though he now bore the memories of Lin Feng, he was an entirely different person from him. There were a lot of uses for his memories, but he did not allow it to change him in the slightest.
Entering the Internal Affairs Hall, he took in the polished wooden floors and ornate tapestries that depicted celestial battles. The room buzzed with energy. In a corner, a group of disciples huddled together, speaking animatedly.
"Did you see Lin Feng yesterday?" laughed Jiang Yi, a broad-shouldered cultivator known more for his brawn than brains. "Idiot tried to harvest beast blood and nearly got himself killed! I bet he's getting kicked out soon."
"He deserves it," said Song Lina sharply. Slender, quick-witted, and strikingly beautiful, she had a complicated history with Lin Feng. Her disdain was barely concealed. "Anyone that reckless should just quit instead of embarrassing the sect."
Their words sliced through the air, drawing curious glances. Xue Mo, leaning silently against the wall, observed with cold detachment. He would use the sect's hierarchy to his advantage—but he needed patience and discretion.
Approaching the counter to collect his daily Qi-gathering pill, he caught sight of Yue Lian nearby. She stood out even in the crowded hall, her flowing black hair and confident demeanor impossible to miss. Lin Feng had once harbored feelings for her—echoes of those emotions still lingered in his mind.
"Well, well," Yue Lian said with a teasing lilt as her eyes locked on him. "Lin Feng, the infamous failure. I'm shocked you're still walking around after your little stunt. I figured you'd be too ashamed to show your face."
The sting didn't come from her words but from the emotions they evoked—residual feelings not his own. Xue Mo remained impassive.
"Hard to stay hidden in a place this lively," he replied evenly, his tone devoid of bitterness. Anger was useless now. He had transcended it.
Yue Lian laughed—a sound like silver bells—but the condescension in her eyes dulled the charm. "Try staying out of trouble for once, Lin Feng. Die if you must, but don't drag the sect's name through the mud."
He didn't react. "Are you done?" he asked, casually accepting the pill. "If not, please don't disturb those who have better things to do."
A flicker of irritation crossed her face before she recovered with a smirk. "You're still the same fool who thought beast blood could help him break through. Didn't even work, did it?"
Xue Mo had already lost interest. He turned and began walking away, tuning her out.
"Don't you dare walk away from me—!"
Her voice rose, face twisting with rage, marring her beauty with venom. But a second later, she caught herself and smoothed her expression, masking the storm that raged within.
"Just wait," she muttered under her breath. "You'll regret crossing me."
Xue Mo didn't hear her—or if he did, he didn't care. A seed of hatred had been planted, though it would prove irrelevant in the long run. If she became a threat, he would simply eliminate her.
As the hours passed, Xue Mo studied the inner workings of the sect—the alliances, rivalries, and power structures that governed disciple interactions. Today, the arena would be lively with challenges, but drawing attention wasn't wise yet.
Instead, his thoughts returned to the plans he had been forming. Originally, he had relied on killing beasts in the forest to harvest their blood for the Blood Deity Art. But that method was dangerous, not just because of the beasts, but because of the watchful eyes of other cultivators.
The previous Lin Feng had traded nearly everything he owned to acquire the blood essence of a Qi Cultivation Level Four Armored Boar. Inner sect disciples often avoided selling such materials directly, using outer sect intermediaries instead. But Xue Mo had no assets left. Trading was no longer an option.
"Then, a better plan took shape—one safer, subtler, and far more sustainable."
Beast care.
Beast caretakers worked in specific missions within the sect to tend to spiritual beasts, clean their pens, or monitor their health. It offered access to beast blood and other valuable parts without the risks of the forest. But those missions weren't just handed out—he would need the right connections to secure them.
For now, though, he had no such ties. So he would return to the forest. This time, he wouldn't just extract blood—he'd harvest everything of value. Fangs, claws, fur. Every part that could earn him even a sliver of coin or contribution points.
Deep in thought, Xue Mo arrived back at his cave. His hand rested on his chipped and worn sword. The blade bore countless slashes—deep grooves that made it look like it had been clawed at by something vicious. Some edges were even missing.
"I need a new sword," he muttered. This one wouldn't last another serious fight.
Without wasting time, he turned and headed back into the forest. His path was clear, and his purpose ever present in front of him.
Two hour later...
Xue Mo moved swiftly through the dense underbrush of the outer forest, the shadows of towering trees casting dappled patterns across the ground. The familiar rustle of leaves and distant growls reminded him that danger was never far, but for now, his goal wasn't a glorious fight—it was practicality.
He crouched low near a bush, spotting a low-tier Swiftclaw Rabbit chewing on herbs. It wasn't particularly threatening; in fact, it was a common beast among Qi Condensation disciples for early training. But it bled, and that was enough.
With precise movement, he tossed a small rock to the side. The rabbit flinched and darted left—right into the arc of his blade. The strike was clean, efficient. Xue Mo collected a small vial from his robe and gathered the blood while it was still warm.
"It's not much," he muttered, "but every drop counts."
He didn't stop there. Over the next hour, he hunted small beasts—an Ember-Furred Fox cub that had wandered too far from its den, a Stonetail Lizard resting beneath a rock ledge, and even a Sky-Eyed Falcon that had swooped down, thinking him easy prey. None offered serious resistance, and that was just fine. Today wasn't about challenge. It was about stockpiling.
Each kill was quick and deliberate, guided by logic, not impulse. Xue Mo made sure to extract blood, useful bones, and furs. He wasn't about to waste anything.
As he tied a small bundle of fangs and feathers with a strip of cloth, his gaze turned skyward. The forest canopy swayed gently, sunlight flickering through the gaps like scattered gold.
"These resources will keep me afloat. For now."
His thoughts drifted back to the sect. Connections, influence, access to internal missions—those were the real steps toward stability. He needed to be able to request beast caretaking duties, and for that, he'd have to build subtle ties with Internal Affairs handlers.
"Soon," he whispered to himself, slinging the bundle across his shoulder.
By the time he returned to the outer forest's edge, the sun was hanging low in the sky, its warmth brushing the treetops. Xue Mo paused, sensing no presence behind him, then quietly made his way toward his cave.
Today had been modest but fruitful. No risks, no life and death situation—just slow and quiet progress.
And that was sometimes the most dangerous kind.
---
Inside the cave, the air was cool, carrying a slight metallic scent from the pouch of beast blood he carefully laid down beside his small stash of gathered materials. The carved stone basin in the corner, once used by Lin Feng for storing herbs, now served a new purpose. Xue Mo poured the blood slowly into it, the thick liquid pooling steadily as faint traces of crimson qi shimmered within. He sealed the pouch tightly with a rough hemp string for next use, noting that he'd need to prepare better containers soon—maybe something reinforced with beast hide or bone.
Settling down cross-legged again, he began a slow breath cycle, regulating his qi as he silently activated the Blood Deity Art.
As the energy from the blood flowed through his meridians, a faint heartbeat thrum could be heard as the energy gathered at his heart, then from there flowed to fill his limbs. It wasn't a breakthrough, but he could feel subtle changes—his senses slightly sharper, his muscles a touch firmer. Progress, however small, was still progress.
Slow and hidden—that's the only way forward, he reminded himself.
His gaze shifted to the bundle of beast parts—fangs, claws, and fur neatly sorted. He'd head to the Trading Hall discreetly tomorrow and see if he could exchange them for basic items. Not enough to draw attention, but enough to get some resources and most importantly, to afford better tools, perhaps even a proper container for blood refinement.
He made a mental note of the cultivators in Internal Affairs and those stationed near the beast pens. A name came to mind—Chen Bo, a mid-tier outer sect disciple often assigned to care for injured beasts. Not powerful, but connected enough to be useful.
Xue Mo leaned back against the cool stone wall, the flicker of fire dancing in his dark eyes.
"The sect was a sword... but soon, he'd be the one holding the hilt."