Treasure-hunting, brewing broth, refining his body.

  Jiang Heng spent days in quiet routine.

  His hunts yielded rare herbs worth at least three taels.

  With his strength, he could’ve earned more, but brewing and training took time. Plus, Sly Zhao might be hunting him to silence him.

  So, he was cautious.

  He avoided the old camp, erasing footprints, masking scents, and restoring disturbed pnts.

  It slowed his hunts significantly.

  Damn it, that Zhao’s even messing with my coin…

  The feeling of a sword over his head sucked.

  Growing stronger and eliminating Zhao was now a priority.

  Another urgency gnawed at him.

  While cautiously scouting the peacock’s nest, he’d found traces of other humans—old tracks.

  Whoever left them had likely spotted the peacock before him.

  They might be gathering allies.

  If he didn’t act fast, someone else could cim the prize.

  If I’m right, these tracks belong to a Mountain Patrol Division ranger…

  The Division hired hunters as rangers.

  Sly Zhao, for instance, was one.

  Rangers had two duties: leading mountain dwellers to hunt treasures in miasma fringes, like Zhao, or venturing deeper to patrol and sy threats.

  The tter required serious strength.

  The peacock might be a ranger’s target.

  If a ranger had wounded it, Jiang Heng might back off—it was their prize, earned with effort.

  But close inspection revealed the peacock’s injury stemmed from its own cultivation failure, a botched breakthrough causing internal damage.

  Spirit beasts absorbed celestial essence to grow stronger, with ranks among them. This peacock was a low-tier spirit beast, but a successful breakthrough could’ve made it a demon beast.

  Demon beasts rivaled martial cultivators, ruling vast territories like beast kings, terrifyingly powerful.

  The peacock’s injury had nothing to do with the Division.

  Why shouldn’t I cim this prey?

  It’s about who’s stronger, who strikes first.

  Gulp, gulp!

  Downing today’s broth, feeling his bones and flesh steadily strengthen, Jiang Heng took a deep breath. He donned leather armor, gripped his dagger and a self-made wooden bow, and headed for the peacock’s nest.

  After days of preparation, his strength far surpassed before. With the broth running out, time was short.

  Today, he’d hunt the spirit beast.

  Soon, he reached the old pine.

  Perhaps his blood vitality was stronger now, because as he approached, shrill cries erupted.

  Several red-crested azure sparrows screeched, diving at him like arrows.

  Bring it!

  Once, a single sparrow had pushed him to his limits.

  Now, he was a different man. Clutching his glinting dagger, he sshed with lightning precision.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Muffled thuds rang out. Bloodied sparrows dropped, dead.

  That easy?

  Even Jiang Heng was stunned.

  His progress was staggering.

  Regrettably, unlike his first kill, these sparrows’ crests no longer triggered the golden cauldron.

  He’d learned the cauldron was picky—only fresh, high-grade miasmic substances unlocked new abilities. Lesser or repeated ones wouldn’t cut it.

  The sparrows’ blood filled the air, finally rousing the sleeping peacock.

  Buzz!

  A gust tore through the silent bamboo grove.

  The miasmic mist the peacock exhaled reversed, sucked back into its maw. Jiang Heng’s clothes whipped wildly, the scene awe-inspiring.

  The peacock spread its feathers, its cold, sharp eyes locking onto him.

  In those eyes, Jiang Heng saw human-like emotions—disgust, malice, and raw killing intent.

  No wonder it’s a spirit beast. This thing’s smart.

  But he wasn’t intimidated. Lunging forward, he thrust his dagger, striking first.

  Though massive, dog-sized, the peacock was still a bird. If he could ground it, pinning its wings, its strength would plummet, making it easy prey.

  But it wasn’t that simple.

  Despite his lightning speed, the peacock reacted, wings fpping to soar upward.

  His lunge only sliced off a few feathers.

  An angry screech echoed from above, followed by a flood of thick mist.

  Unlike its sleeping haze, this mist was pitch-bck.

  To others, it’d be blinding, the world reduced to darkness.

  The peacock could then dive from above, holding every advantage.

  Even Sly Zhao might fall to such a tactic.

  This move alone marked the peacock as fearsome, especially wounded.

  Not just a spirit beast—it’s a Hellseed. Its power’s a cut above.

  Jiang Heng stayed calm.

  He had [Night Vision].

  The bck mist hindered him slightly, but not much.

  His eyes glinted with spiritual light, the peacock’s form clear as day.

  Feigning confusion, he stumbled in the wrong direction.

  The peacock took the bait, diving down.

  As it struck, Jiang Heng sidestepped, his hand shooting out to seize its left wing.

  [Barbarian Strength] surged.

  Rip!

  A dull tear. Warm blood and feathers sprayed his face.

  But to his shock, the peacock fought back.

  Its talons, sharp as bdes, raked his right arm, tearing deep.

  Pain seared through him.

  He didn’t need to look to know his arm was mangled, the wound grazing bone.

  Worse, the peacock’s cws and feathers carried potent toxins.

  Dizziness hit, his clear [Night Vision] clouding, the world blurring.