Ning crouched beneath the shade of a twisted pine, carefully brushing aside the surrounding leaves. At the center of the small clearing grew a pale-blue plant, its petals thin and translucent.

  Illusory Mistflower.

  A first-tier spiritual plant commonly used in illusory formations, low-grade pills, and illusion-based techniques.

  Ning harvested it with practiced precision, sealing the roots with a wisp of qi before placing it into a jade box.

  During missions, Ning often chose tasks related to gathering spiritual plants. They weren’t the most exciting, but they steadily enriched his small garden and expanded his options for experimentation. Compared to monster hunting or escort missions, this path was safer.

  Of course, despite finding several useful plants, he never stumbled across things like Dragon Vein Grass again, spiritual herbs that boosted cultivation just by eating them.

  Repeatedly encountering treasures like that was the privilege of a protagonist.

  So it didn’t bother him.

  Luck was unreliable. Accumulation, on the other hand, was something he could control.

  Ning straightened and brushed the dirt from his hands.

  Then froze.

  Roar!

  A distant, piercing cry tore through the forest.

  Almost immediately, the undergrowth erupted.

  Branches snapped. Birds burst from the canopy in panicked flocks. The ground trembled faintly as something massive tore through the trees.

  It wasn’t just beasts.

  Ning could hear cultivators shouting, panic sharp in their voices.

  His pupils constricted.

  Something’s wrong.

  Commotion in the forest wasn’t unusual. Beasts fought. Cultivators clashed. But something on this scale was rare.

  Ning didn’t hesitate.

  Qi surged into his legs as he activated his boots.

  The High-Grade Wind-Stepping Boots hummed softly, runes flaring to life.

  They possessed two modes.

  Flowing Wind Step, a sustainable circulation mode.

  Swift Wind Step, a burst mode that consumed qi rapidly in exchange for speed.

  In all his years of frequenting this forest, Ning had never seen an uproar of this scale. This wasn’t normal.

  Act first. Think later.

  In situations like this, speed mattered more than curiosity. After all, among the thirty-six stratagems, retreat ranked among the highest.

  Ning switched to Swift Wind Step.

  His speed spiked sharply as his qi reserves began to drain. He shot through the forest like a shadow, weaving between trees.

  The shouts grew louder.

  “Run!”

  “It’s coming this way!”

  Ning didn’t look back.

  Anyone who had watched even a single zombie movie knew better than that.

  By the time he reached the outskirts of Blackthorn City, his breathing had quickened, but his stride remained steady. He wasn’t alone; other cultivators were fleeing in the same direction, faces pale and strained.

  Then, a shadow swept across the ground.

  Ning looked up.

  Something enormous burst from the treeline.

  A black boar, massive as a siege beast, thundered forward with earth-shaking force. Its bristles stood on end like iron spikes, each step cracking the ground beneath its hooves. Violent spiritual energy surged around its body, raw and unstable.

  A black boar that had reached Foundation Establishment.

  It roared again.

  Even from this distance, Ning could feel the pressure radiating from it. Unlike human cultivators, wild beasts rarely restrained their aura, especially creatures like black boars.

  Its strength pressed down like a physical weight.

  In front of it fled several cultivators, hunters, judging by their gear, scattered in disarray. Blood stained their robes. One was missing an arm. Another limped badly, barely keeping ahead of the beast’s charge.

  Ning watched as the boar plowed through trees like paper, tusks glowing with violent qi. Each snort sent shockwaves rippling through the air.

  “We’re almost at the city! Everyone, run!” one of the men shouted hoarsely.

  A city established in this wilderness naturally possessed defensive strength, especially one so close to the Pure Qi Sect. Normally, even ferocious beasts avoided attacking such places.

  But this time, something was different.

  The boar wasn’t slowing. It wasn’t turning. It was charging straight toward,

  …the city.

  Cold dread crept up Ning’s spine.

  A Foundation Establishment beast rampaging at full speed…

  Compared to the inner regions, outer-region defenses were only sufficient to repel ordinary beasts and Qi Condensation cultivators.

  Against this?

  That was an entirely different matter.

  A single charge like that could shatter defensive formations, splinter the city gates, and trample hundreds before anyone could respond.

  Then, ashadow swept across the ground.

  Ning looked up.

  A massive avian beast, wings spanning dozens of meters, descended with a piercing screech, a Red-Beaked Spearow, its body wrapped in powerful qi. A flying Foundation Establishment beast.

  But what drew Ning’s attention wasn’t the beast.

  It was the man standing calmly atop its back.

  He wore the robes of the Pure Qi Sect, pristine and unruffled, his posture relaxed, as though he were on a leisurely patrol rather than facing a rampaging monster.

  The man stepped off the spearow in midair.

  “How bold,” he said, his voice echoing across the land. “A mere beast dares charge a city under my watch?”

  He paused, then added lightly, “Fu Zheng’s watch.”

  He descended slowly, not falling, but descending, spiritual energy gathering effortlessly beneath his feet.

  The black boar sensed him immediately.

  It skidded to a halt, hooves tearing deep furrows into the earth. Its eyes burned red as it roared, violent qi erupting outward.

  Ning noticed something strange.

  The boar’s qi surged violently, taking on a deep red hue, visible even to the naked eye.

  It’s using some kind of ability, Ning realized.

  Roar!

  “As expected of a black boar,” Fu Zheng sighed, drawing his sword. “No thinking at all. Just attacks anything that moves.”

  He shook his head slightly. “It’s only just reached Foundation Establishment, yet it already believes itself invincible.”

  Then the man and the beast moved.

  The ground itself trembled as the boar charged without the slightest hesitation. Its powerful hind legs propelled its massive body forward at terrifying speed, turning it into a living battering ram.

  Fu Zheng didn’t attempt to meet it head-on.

  Instead, he activated a movement technique, slipping aside at the last moment and counterattacking with a blade of sword qi.

  The sword qi struck the boar cleanly, but the beast merely staggered, then roared and charged again.

  “Tsk.” Fu Zheng clicked his tongue. “Its innate defense really did skyrocket after reaching Foundation Establishment.”

  Seeing that the wound barely slowed the beast, he unleashed another technique.

  By now, more cultivators had gathered to watch.

  Most of them were low-level cultivators who rarely, if ever, had the chance to witness a battle at this level. To them, this was both terrifying and invaluable.

  “I didn’t expect a black boar to be this strong after reaching Foundation Establishment.”

  “That’s normal,” another replied eagerly. “Black boars don’t have many fancy abilities, but their base strength and defense have always been terrifying.”

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  “It almost looks like even the senior can’t defeat it easily.”

  At that moment, someone nearby scoffed, a man with the most generic face possible.

  “You lot clearly don’t know Senior Fu Zheng,” he said smugly. “He’s been in charge of this city for years. You think he’s struggling because he’s holding back.”

  He continued, voice rising with confidence. “Despite wielding a sword, he isn’t a pure sword cultivator. His true strength lies elsewhere.”

  The man gestured upward.

  “He’s a beast tamer.”

  At this point, Ning had already understood that information giving everpresent, so he ignored the guy.

  Instead, his eyes narrowed slightly.

  Beast taming was one of the most popular professions within the Pure Qi Sect.

  And considering that Fu Zheng had arrived riding a rare flying Foundation Establishment beast, the explanation made perfect sense.

  Then why hadn’t he used it yet?

  Ning didn’t know.

  Perhaps Fu Zheng was testing the boar.

  Or perhaps,

  He’s aura farming, Ning thought dryly.

  Soon enough, the answer came.

  Fu Zheng leapt backward, sighing faintly as he assessed the battlefield. Despite his superior agility and repeated attacks, the boar, though injured, showed no signs of collapse.

  “It seems I still need to use that move,” Fu Zheng muttered.

  He raised his arm.

  Light flickered, appearing and vanishing like a mirage.

  [Falling Impact]

  High above, the Red-Beaked Spearow suddenly folded its wings and dove.

  Its body turned faintly metallic as qi surged violently through it, accelerating to terrifying speed.

  The impact was cataclysmic.

  A massive shockwave erupted outward. Even from hundreds of meters away, Ning felt the force tear through the air as wind and dust blasted past him.

  When everything settled, a deep crater remained.

  At its center lay the black boar, motionless.

  “Still alive?” Fu Zheng muttered, scanning it with divine sense.

  Then he glanced at the crater and the ruined surroundings.

  “…Heavens,” he sighed. “I’ll need to call the earth-repair cultivators again.”

  That was the worst part of using his ultimate move.

  Cool and powerful, yes.

  But the collateral damage always needed to be repaired.

  “So strong…”

  “As expected of Senior Fu Zheng.”

  “Once he got serious, it ended instantly.”

  The crowd collectively exhaled in relief.

  Ning sighed as well, though not from relief.

  From exasperation.

  The sheer scale of destruction caused by a Foundation Establishment cultivator had thoroughly refreshed his understanding.

  Especially after witnessing the potential of a beast tamer.

  That profession truly covered a wide range of capabilities. Even a beast that had given Fu Zheng trouble moments earlier was defeated in a single coordinated strike.

  If it had been only Fu Zheng, or only the spearow, the battle would have dragged on.

  But together?

  Their power wasn’t merely additive.

  The spearow was already formidable. Amplified by a beast tamer, its strength became overwhelming.

  “Foundation Establishment cultivators are far stronger than I expected,” Ning murmured.

  As a Qi Condensation cultivator, Ning roughly classified himself as a boulder-to-building-level threat at his max potential.

  But from what he had just witnessed?

  A truly talented Foundation Establishment cultivator could level an entire street, perhaps even a city.

  Clearly, cultivators didn’t just surpass ordinary humans in lifespan.

  The gap in power between realms was vast.

  Terrifyingly so.

  Ning quietly analyzed the battle and the difference in strength.

  To be honest, it had been quite the demonstration.

  Meanwhile, the cause and effect of the entire incident gradually surfaced.

  “I heard those hunters were chasing something rare…”

  “Yeah, something rumored to live deep in Black Boar Forest.”

  “A spiritual beast, right? Supposedly worth a fortune.”

  “They must’ve messed up badly to provoke that thing…”

  Ning listened quietly, piecing everything together.

  A rare spiritual beast.

  A hunting party pushing too deep.

  A newly advanced Foundation Establishment Black Boar driven into a frenzy.

  “Seems classic enough,” Ning muttered, ready to leave. He quickly slipped away from the crowd.

  Someone else did the same.

  Ning’s gaze followed instinctively.

  Their eyes met.

  Xiao Fan.

  For a split second, Xiao Fan froze.

  And in that instant, Ning noticed it.

  Xiao Fan’s storage bag was bulging unnaturally.

  Not just full, moving.

  A subtle shift, like something alive adjusting its position inside.

  Ning’s thoughts aligned immediately.

  Rare spiritual beast.

  Hunters empty-handed.

  Xiao Fan leaving quietly.

  Cause. Effect. Clearly, the protagonist is at work.

  “Ning… didn’t expect to find you here,” Xiao Fan said awkwardly, looking far too shifty to be convincing.

  Ning raised a hand.

  “Not here,” he said calmly. “Let’s go to my place first. I have something to give you anyway.”

  With that, Ning turned and left at once.

  Xiao Fan swallowed the rest of his words and followed.

  ...

  Ning’s hut was small, but orderly.

  “Sit,” Ning said, already moving. “You look like you’ve been involved in something strange again.”

  Xiao Fan merely shrugged and took a sip of the milk tea Ning had brewed.

  “What are you talking about?” he said flatly. “I don’t understand.”

  “Alright,” Ning replied mildly. “You can let it out now. Otherwise, I don’t think your bag will hold much longer.”

  Xiao Fan froze.

  Then, Pfft!

  He spat out the tea in shock.

  “How did you know?!” he blurted out.

  Ning had already stepped aside, watching Xiao Fan perform the classic startled spit-take.

  “Even if I didn’t know before, you just confirmed it,” Ning said blandly. “And don’t spit next time. It’s disgusting.”

  Xiao Fan hesitated.

  Then he loosened the seal on his storage bag.

  A flash of white spilled out.

  Something small landed on the table without a sound.

  It was a fox.

  Its fur was pure white, pristine and unblemished, like fresh snow beneath moonlight. Not a single strand was out of place. Its eyes were sharp and bright, carrying an intelligence far beyond that of ordinary beasts.

  The fox lifted its chin, tail flicking with slow disdain, and surveyed the room as if judging it.

  Ning blinked once.

  “A fox?”

  Not just any fox.

  Ning knew the Black Boar Forest well. Deep within it lived a small population of fire foxes, red-furred, timid, and fire-attuned.

  This one?

  It was clearly a shiny.

  In one particular world, that might have only meant a slight color variation. But in this world, it represented a mutation in bloodline.

  And unlike the normally timid fire fox, this one radiated pure arrogance.

  The fox turned its head toward Xiao Fan and snorted softly.

  “It seems quite dramatic,” Xiao Fan muttered, unsure why he felt judged.

  Hearing that low-EQ remark, Ning couldn’t help retorting, “Well, you did stuff the little guy into a pouch and run all the way here. I think a bit of drama is justified.”

  The fox seemed to understand.

  It nodded once, then snorted again at Xiao Fan.

  “It’s very intelligent,” Ning said after a moment. “Even among foxes, which are already smarter than most beasts, this one feels exceptional. How did you even run into something like this?”

  The fox was only at mid-stage cultivation.

  To display intelligence at this level, it should have been at least late stage, or even Foundation Establishment.

  Xiao Fan then recounted what had happened.

  The story itself was simple.

  The hunters had discovered the rare fox and attempted to contract it. Just as the ritual was underway, the black boar appeared. Amid the chaos, Xiao Fan, who just happened to be nearby, ended up forming the contract instead.

  Everything after that followed naturally.

  Finding a rare beast and contracting it for free? That checked out.

  Ning reached out to pet the fox.

  The fox brushed his hand aside with its tail.

  “It’s quite arrogant,” Xiao Fan snickered, finally seeing Ning at a loss.

  Ning said nothing.

  Instead, he took out part of his lunch, candied bacon, and placed it on the table.

  The fox glanced at the food.

  Then at Ning.

  It tilted its head.

  “If you let me pet you,” Ning said calmly, “this is yours.”

  The fox hesitated.

  Then the sweet aroma won.

  It barked once at Ning, then began eating.

  Ning slowly reached out and petted the fox, a smug smile forming as he glanced at Xiao Fan.

  “This beast has no stubbornness,” Xiao Fan remarked.

  The moment the words left his mouth, a chilly breath washed over him.

  “Hey, don’t get mad,” Xiao Fan said quickly. “I’m just telling the truth.”

  Ning nodded thoughtfully.

  “Judging by its attributes, this fox’s bloodline has clearly mutated. A normal fire fox caps out at mid-stage Qi Condensation. This may actually be a good thing for you.”

  “I guess that is good news,” Xiao Fan admitted.

  “As expected, you’re quite lucky,” Ning began, then paused. “Which brings me to a request.”

  “What is it?” Xiao Fan asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “I want you to help me look for a wild beast egg,” Ning said directly. “I want to try raising a spiritual beast myself. Eggs with good bloodlines are ridiculously expensive, so I’d rather find one naturally.”

  “That makes sense,” Xiao Fan nodded. “But are you sure I can find something with sufficiently high bloodline?”

  “I just need you to keep an eye out,” Ning smiled. “No need to force it. And I’m not asking for free help.”

  He took out two small books and handed them over.

  Xiao Fan flipped through them, and his eyes widened.

  “This is…”

  “The first is the technique from the jade talisman slip,” Ning explained. “The Pure Eyes Technique. As I said last time, I’m sharing it with you.”

  He paused.

  “The latter parts are missing, of course. As an ocular technique, its value is still very high.”

  “You’re really giving this to me?” Xiao Fan asked seriously. “Just like that?”

  A technique of this level was always guarded secretly. It was first time for Xiao Fan to see someone willing to share such a technique. Even though Ning had spoken about sharing, Xiao Fan never really took it to heart.

  Ning shrugged. “I’m keeping my word. If you ever find the latter half, I hope you’ll let me buy it.”

  He was laying groundwork for the future.

  Xiao Fan nodded. “Even if I probably won’t find it, it’s like searching for a needle in a haystack, I’ll keep an eye out.”

  That alone gave Ning a direction for the technique’s future.

  “As for the second book,” Ning continued, “that’s your reward for helping me look for the egg.”

  Xiao Fan flipped through it.

  “This is… an explanation on reaching the third layer of the Pure Qi Sutra? And it’s incredibly detailed.”

  “Yes,” Ning said calmly. “That’s my understanding of it. If you haven’t reached the third layer yet, this should be invaluable. Of course, if you don't want this, I can change the reward."

  “I don’t need another reward,” Xiao Fan said immediately. “This is exactly what I need.”

  Even from just a single glance, Xiao Fan could see that the amount of detail as well as the concept themself very unique. Especially, the parts about meridians and the appropriate spiritual qi to flow through. It was all very precise.

  “Then,” Ning smiled, “you’ve accepted my quest.”

  As everyone knew, no matter how difficult or strange a task was, once it was handed to the protagonist, it was practically guaranteed to succeed.

  Now Ning finally understood why, in RPGs, every household, no matter how insignificant, gave quests to the protagonist.

  Once you enlisted their help, you didn’t need to worry anymore.

  Honestly?

  Ning rather liked the feeling of being an NPC quest giver.

  ...

  Fireball.

  The spell every beginner mage learned first, whether in tabletop games, novels, or cheap fantasy media.

  If magic had a universal starting point, this was it.

  And now, after all these years, it was finally Ning’s turn.

  It was the spell he had chosen after listening to the senior sister’s suggestion. At first glance, it almost felt underwhelming. Compared to the esoteric farming spells he had learned before, this one seemed crude.

  But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made.

  First, it was cheap.

  Compared to most elemental techniques, Fireball consumed very little spiritual energy for the damage it produced. Second, it was brutally straightforward.

  And most importantly,

  Its effective range scaled almost entirely with proficiency.

  In fact, Ning was more surprised that he had learned it this late. Thinking back, however, it was understandable. For a long time, his priority had been finding ways to earn spirit stones for cultivation.

  Fireball simply hadn’t fit that mindset.

  Until now.

  Standing alone in a clearing outside the city, Ning took a slow breath and steadied himself.

  Fireball required structure.

  As a transmigrator, Ning had an advantage here.

  In games and stories, Fireball wasn’t just “throw fire.” It always followed rules, compression, ignition, release. Energy gathered, shaped, stabilized, then violently expelled.

  That logic translated well.

  Ning raised one hand.

  He didn’t rush. First came visualization.

  A sphere.

  He imagined a tight knot of heat forming in his palm, spiritual energy spiraling inward instead of leaking outward. Compression before ignition. Stability before release.

  Clear mental imagery had always been Ning’s strong suit. This time was no different.

  Spiritual energy flowed, slowly at first.

  The air above his palm shimmered as the temperature rose. A dull red glow emerged, flickered unsteadily, then vanished.

  “Too loose,” Ning muttered, jotting down the results of the attempt in his notes.

  He adjusted.

  Tightening the spiral, he forced excess qi to cycle back into his meridians instead of feeding the spell. The glow sharpened, condensing into a clearer outline.

  “Forty-sixth attempt,” Ning noted silently.

  A sphere the size of a small ball hovered above his palm.

  [Fireball: (Starting: 1/200)]

  “Good,” Ning smiled. “Baseline achieved.”

  He flicked his wrist.

  The sphere shot forward and struck a rock he had prepared earlier.

  Boom.

  The explosion was small, more of a violent burst than a true detonation. Fire splashed outward, scorching the stone, but the effect was limited.

  Ning observed carefully.

  Damage radius: limited.

  Heat dispersion: inefficient.

  Qi consumption: moderate.

  He nodded.

  “As expected, its power is quite low at the start,” Ning said calmly. But now that he had successfully cast it, refinement could begin.

  Ning repeated the process.

  Again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Each time, he adjusted a single variable, compression speed, rotation direction, release timing.

  “This is the dangerous part,” he murmured, watching the flame condense rapidly in his palm.

  Overcharging Fireball was a classic beginner mistake in every world. Push too much energy, lose containment, and the spell detonates in your own hand.

  So Ning stopped.

  He dispersed the sphere cleanly, allowing the heat to bleed harmlessly into the air.

  Breathing steadily, he stretched his fingers.

  In D&D terms, he mused, this would be the difference between a level-one slot and an upcast.

  Here, though, it was simply mastery.

  And mastery, unlike talent, was something Ning could grind endlessly.

  Fireball wasn’t flashy.

  But there was a reason in the hands of someone patient enough to truly understand it, Fireball was considered terrifying.

  ...

  Thanks for reading~