The alpha wolf stands before De, its frame thick with scar tissue, each one a testament to the years it has ruled this part of the forest. Golden eyes gleam—not just with predatory hunger, but with something more. Recognition.
Unlike the others, it does not lunge. It watches. It remembers.
The scent of its fallen young lingers on De, a remnant from the pack he slew upon first arriving in this forest. This time, there will be no escape.
The air shifts.
Tension coils like a drawn bowstring.
Back then, De had been weaker, slower, untrained. But now—now, he has a blade.
Fingers trace the hilt strapped across his back. Weeks have passed since he last unsheathed it. The weapon is no ordinary steel.
Cheon Ma Sin Gun's sword.
Deep in the Heavenly Demon's Cave, it had lain hidden among relics of a forgotten era. When De first wielded it, the weight felt foreign, the balance unfamiliar.
Now—it is an extension of him. Not a relic of the past, but a weapon forged for his future.
The alpha moves first.
A blur of muscle and fury.
But De is already in motion.
A sharp exhale. A step forward. The blade comes free.
A single arc of violet light—
The wolf recoils, barely avoiding the strike, but not without cost. The tip of the sword bites into its side, drawing a thick spray of blood.
De adjusts his grip, lowering into a stance that has yet to be perfected.
Domineering Demon Sword Style.
Not refined. Not complete.
But his.
The beast circles, no longer reckless. It knows the danger now.
De watches, breath steady, mind clear.
Patience does not belong to this style.
He attacks.
Body and blade move as one—
A low slash, aimed at the legs.
The wolf leaps.
Already anticipating, De pivots, reversing his grip mid-motion.
A sudden, brutal thrust—
The blade grazes ribs, forcing the beast back once more.
The gaps are widening.
Press the advantage.
The wolf growls, then lunges—fangs bared, aiming for his throat.
De sidesteps, his sword flipping in his grip—
A vertical slash.
Steel tears into muscle and bone.
A pained snarl.
The beast staggers.
But it is not done yet.
Muscles coil. A final, desperate charge.
This is its last move.
A gamble.
A mistake.
De lowers his stance, feet rooted.
He does not retreat.
He does not hesitate.
He waits.
And the moment the alpha closes in—
De steps into its charge.
The sword arcs, faster than before.
A flash of violet.
A streak of blood.
The wolf lands behind him.
It sways.
It staggers.
Then—it falls.
Massive limbs twitch once, then go still.
Silence.
The forest holds its breath.
De stands over the fallen alpha, the glow of his blade fading. The air shimmers around him, unseen energy rippling outward.
And then, it comes.
A rush of Qi, flowing from the beast's corpse into him.
A pulse of fire—
Not just warmth. Strength.
The surge crashes through his meridians, filling his nodes, sharpening his senses.
The Domineering Demon Sword Style had been more than an exercise in control. It had been a test of power.
And power demands growth.
Fingers curl into fists. The difference is immediate.
His Qi has thickened.
No longer a mere trickle, but a flood, seeping into muscle, reinforcing his foundation.
He has gained from this battle.
The alpha had been strong—stronger than any he had faced before. But now, its Qi belongs to him.
Breath steadies. Muscles settle. The influx of energy spreads through his body, adapting to its new vessel.
He is no longer the same as when he first entered this forest.
Eyes drop to the sword in his grip, its edge dripping crimson.
Each battle, each step forward—another stone laid on the path to power.
He cannot afford to stop.
Not now.
Not when his brothers are still out there.
Not when the sect selection looms.
Solar pads forward, her sleek black form blending into the darkness. The violet lines pulsing along her body respond to the surge of Qi still settling inside De.
She sniffs at the alpha's corpse, then lifts her piercing gaze to him.
She has felt it.
The growth.
The evolution.
De meets her gaze and nods once.
One kill. One step forward.
Solar flicks her tails, huffing in quiet approval.
They have both changed.
The forest is still.
The scent of blood lingers, but the night swallows all trace of the fallen wolves.
Only De remains, standing amidst the carnage.
His Qi pulses, the fresh influx from his kills settling deep into his meridians. Every fiber of his body feels sharper, more attuned.
But it isn't enough.
Power gained is power wasted if left unrefined.
His gaze flickers toward a hidden path in the trees.
A path leading back to the cave.
The Heavenly Demon's Cave.
Last time, he had ventured in and barely made it out alive.
Now—
Now, he is stronger.
But is it enough?
Solar watches him, silent as the night itself.
De exhales slowly, the weight of the decision settling onto his shoulders.
He has one month.
Train here. Refine his body. Temper his Qi.
Or step into the unknown once again.
The cave had nearly claimed him before.
But it had also given him this sword.
And if there was more waiting inside—if there was something even greater buried in the depths—
Then he would claim it.
De tightens his grip on the hilt, glancing once more at the still-bleeding corpse of the fallen alpha.
A predator that had ruled the forest, now just another step on his path.
His path to something greater.
His path to power.
With a final breath, De makes his choice.
And steps toward the cave.