Novaridge City stretched out across a vast landscape, its towering walls enclosing a population of hundreds of thousands. At the city's heart stood the Martial Arts Hall, a fortress-like structure occupying a prime stretch of land. Countless venues, pavilions, and training fields sprawled beneath its banner—a sanctuary for cultivating warriors and a crucible designed to excavate talents fit to serve the imperial court or be recruited by prestigious sects.
Under usual circumstances, Martial Hall students rarely left its confines, unless they belonged to local families residing within Novaridge itself.
In this world, martial artists held unrivaled status. Their strength dictated their worth, but strength alone wasn't the only way to wealth or influence. Several careers flourished alongside warriors, lucrative in their own right.
Alchemists, for instance, were highly coveted. With a flick of their wrist, they could transform a spiritual herb worth a mere hundred coins into an elixir valued in the thousands. Array Masters, who specialized in constructing intricate formations—be it for cultivation, attack, or defense—commanded exorbitant fees for their craft. Then there were Forging Masters, responsible for shaping powerful magic weapons that every warrior coveted.
However, these three careers were far from accessible. Talent, heritage, and, most importantly, mentorship from master craftsmen were indispensable requirements. Dustin had long known that a few students from prominent families within the Martial Hall dabbled in these arts, spending tens of thousands of coins monthly—an amount so astronomical, that it felt like a distant dream to him.
But beyond these elite paths, there remained one more career open to warriors hungry for improvement, albeit dangerous and unforgiving—the Hunter.
Countless untamed beasts and monstrous creatures roamed the deep mountains and murky swamps. Born with powerful physiques and natural gifts, their bodies harbored materials of immense value—be it hide, bone, core, or blood. Hunters emerged to exploit this perilous bounty. Beyond hunting beasts, skilled hunters often stumbled upon elixirs, rare ores, and priceless herbs hidden deep within the jungle—treasures eagerly sought after by alchemists, Array Masters, and Forgers alike.
In Novaridge City, the Hunter's Guild governed this profession. A symbol of two crossed swords marked its headquarters, situated in the bustling, vibrant downtown district—a stark contrast to the dangerous, bloody business it presided over.
To even qualify as a junior hunter, a minimum cultivation of fifth-level Body Refinement was mandatory. In the past, Dustin wouldn't have dared dream of stepping into that realm. His strength had been too meager, his lifeline too fragile.
But things had changed.
His cultivation surged after acquiring the mysterious pearl, and to accelerate further, he needed both resources and experience. Becoming a hunter was the only path that fit both criteria.
Hunters accepted assignments issued by the guild, earning hefty rewards upon completion. They could also freely team up, splitting profits or selling rare spoils directly to the guild. Some seasoned hunters earned no less than alchemists or Forging Masters. It was a path paved in blood—but one paved towards power.
As Dustin stepped into the Hunter's Guild for the first time, a wave of heated chatter, the scent of sweat and steel, and the palpable weight of qi pounced on him. Warriors clad in leather armor and coarse robes lounged about, swords strapped to their backs, blood essence simmering in their veins. The hall felt alive—loud, wild, and dangerous.
"So many experts..."
Through the veil of his Life-Vein Diagram, Dustin easily discerned their strength. The vibrant, pulsating life veins revealed that most warriors here hovered around the eighth or ninth level of Body Refinement. Compared to them, his fifth-level cultivation marked him as a mere fledgling. His youthful face only made him more conspicuous.
Sure enough, mocking laughter erupted the moment he entered.
"Ha! Boy, this isn't the kiddie playground. Lost your way?" A rugged, ninth-level martial artist barked, pointing at Dustin. A silver badge depicting two crossed swords gleamed on his chest—the mark of a qualified hunter.
"He must be one of those Martial Hall students," another chimed in. "Come to see if he can get a hunter badge and show off back at the academy?"
"Heh, if it were that easy to earn one, we'd have a bunch of kids running around here."
"I'll wager my sword he fails and leaves crying."
Amid the jeers, Dustin's gaze swept the room—not with fear, but with quiet resolve. This hall, filled with men and women who lived life on the edge, radiated savage freedom, untamed and wild.
Strangely, he felt at home.
Maybe I was born for this.
Clenching his fists, Dustin strode toward the front counter.
Behind it stood a poised, striking woman. She wore the standard guild uniform, her professional smile flawless—until her eyes settled on his youthful face. For a brief second, surprise flickered across her features.
Recovering swiftly, she leaned forward, her voice melodic. "What can I do for you, little brother?"
Little brother...
Dustin's brow twitched, slightly embarrassed. But he suppressed the urge to correct her.
"I'm here to apply to become a hunter," he said.
Her brows arched. "Apply? You're sure?"
Dustin nodded without hesitation.
Before she could respond, more laughter echoed from nearby tables.
"Shannon, our beauty queen, don't tell me you're sweet on this little guy?" one hunter teased, grinning.
"Careful, Shannon! If you go for tender grass like this, the men chasing you from the south gate to the north will weep themselves dry!"
"Ha! Look at him! Barely old enough to hold a sword."
Shannon rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the faint flush creeping up her cheeks. Swatting away their remarks with practiced ease, she turned back to Dustin, lips curving slyly. "Well then, little brother Dustin. You do realize, becoming a hunter isn't child's play?"
Dustin's face stiffened, but before he could retort, the jeers continued.
"Maybe he wants to impress classmates at Martial Hall."
"Hope his parents bought him a coffin in advance."
Dustin ignored them. He'd long since learned not to waste breath on fools. His gaze remained firm, his posture calm.
Seeing his unshaken expression, Shannon's smile faded slightly. Her tone softened but grew serious. "Listen carefully. Applying to be a hunter means facing real danger. There's an assessment—combat against actual first-level monsters, not mere wild beasts. Even seventh-level Body Refinement warriors have died trying."
Her words weren't cruel, but sincere. She was giving him an out.
But Dustin's decision was made.
"I want to take the assessment," he said simply.
The laughter in the hall gradually faded. Warriors exchanged glances, some shaking their heads, others scoffing.
One burly man took a swig of wine and let out a low chuckle. "The kid's got guts. I like it! If he passes, he's welcome in my team."
Another man, thinner, with a scruffy beard, sneered. "Pass? If he does, I'll chop off my head and use it as a ball!"
A murmur rippled through the guild as bets were tossed about. Dustin paid them no mind.
Shannon hesitated once more, studying his face, perhaps searching for any crack in his resolve. Finding none, she finally sighed, pulling out a stack of forms.
"One's an application form," she explained. "The others… indemnity waivers. The guild won't take responsibility if you… don't return."
Her meaning was clear.
Without hesitation, Dustin signed his name. His pen stroke was steady.
If I can't pass this limitation, how will I ever ascend to higher realms?
A guild attendant arrived shortly to escort him toward the assessment grounds.
Behind him, laughter resumed, louder than before.
"I bet everything—this kid won't last a minute!" Kaira, the scruffy man, slapped the table, turning to the burly Tatum. "Dare to wager?"
Tatum's eyes narrowed. He slammed his cup down. "Bet taken."
Both men glared, the atmosphere thick with rivalry.
But Dustin didn't spare them a glance. His eyes, calm and unwavering, stared straight ahead.
The hunt had only just begun.