The guard’s world shrank to a single instant.

  He lay on the ground, his body numb from the impact, his sword out of reach. The air fled his lungs as he tried to rise, but his arm refused to respond. In front of him, the wolf opened its jaws, hot, fetid breath crashing against his face.

  So… this is where it ends?

  The thought crossed his mind with cruel clarity.

  At that precise moment, he heard something.

  A furious, violent neigh. The thunder of hooves pounding the earth came from behind, followed by something else—something that sliced through the air with a sharp, piercing whistle.

  His eyes flew open.

  A black steel spear crossed his vision in a blink.

  The wolf about to leap was impaled without even a whimper. The force of the impact was so brutal that the beast’s body was hurled backward, pierced clean through, dragged by the spear as if it weighed nothing at all.

  CRACK!

  The spear buried itself deep into the trunk of a thick tree, vibrating with a metallic hum, while the wolf’s body remained skewered and hanging limp, blood splattering against the bark.

  The guard froze, eyes bulging, breathing unevenly.

  He had gone from a breath away from death… to seeing it nailed to a tree right in front of him.

  It took him another second to react.

  Still dazed, he turned his head, searching for the source of that impossible attack. Through the dust and leaves kicked up by the impact, he made out the silhouette of a young man mounted on a horse, charging in at full speed.

  …Reinforcements?

  No…

  The guard swallowed hard.

  “W-Who…?” he murmured, his voice trembling, as the chaos of battle seemed to shift direction in a single instant.

  From the guards’ perspective, the situation had gone from dangerous to desperate within minutes.

  They had never been attacked on this route.

  Never.

  The road passed through the forest, yes, but it had always been relatively safe. At most, an occasional lone beast—nothing a well-armed group couldn’t handle. That was why, when the wolves emerged from the trees like living shadows, the psychological impact was devastating.

  “Formation! Protect the carriage!” one of them had shouted at the start.

  But the formation broke far too quickly.

  One of the horses fell first, its throat torn open. The carriage stopped abruptly, and from that point on, everything descended into chaos. The wolves didn’t attack randomly; they moved with unsettling coordination, flanking, pressing, forcing the guards to retreat again and again.

  When one of their companions was knocked down and left on the ground, the others saw it.

  “Get up!”

  “Hold on!”

  They tried to push forward, swords raised, shouting to intimidate the beasts. But every step forward meant leaving a flank exposed. The wolves lunged without fear, fangs clashing against steel, bodies slamming into shields.

  They were being overwhelmed.

  Not by individual strength—but by numbers… and by something else none of them wanted to admit aloud.

  Fear.

  From the perspective of the two cultivators, the scene was even more dire.

  Both had been hired as extra protection. They weren’t disciples of any great sect, but they were genuine cultivators—and that was usually enough to deter any bandit or ordinary beast.

  Except this time…

  In front of them, the blood-red wolf advanced with steady steps.

  Its crimson fur seemed to absorb the light, and a faint red glow coursed through its body with every breath. Its eyes were not those of an ordinary beast; within them lurked a calculating coldness, almost human.

  “It’s a cultivated wolf…” one of the cultivators growled, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “And it’s not early-stage.”

  The other nodded, teeth clenched as he circulated his Qi.

  Every clash was brutal.

  Sword and technique against fangs reinforced by Qi. The blood-red wolf moved with terrifying agility, leaping, twisting in midair, using the forest terrain to its advantage. Each swipe left deep gouges in the ground… or on their weapons.

  One of them was driven back several steps, his arms trembling from the impact.

  Mid-stage Qi Condensation…

  At the very least.

  If they lowered their guard for even a moment, they would die.

  As they fought, both were keenly aware of what was happening around them. The guards were slowly being surrounded. The carriage was holding—for now. And the man who had fallen to the ground…

  “We can’t help him!” one cultivator shouted, barely evading a fatal bite. “If we pull back, this bastard will tear us apart!”

  The feeling was suffocating.

  A perfect ambush.

  And then—

  A sound shattered the scene.

  A violent neigh, brimming with momentum, followed by a sharp whistle that made even the blood-red wolf tilt its head slightly.

  An instant later, the pressure on the battlefield changed.

  The guards saw the wolf that was about to finish their companion get pierced and nailed to a tree like a worthless slab of meat.

  The cultivators felt someone approaching—someone whose Qi was stronger than theirs.

  It wasn’t overwhelming.

  It wasn’t oppressive.

  But it was sharp. Direct. Lethal.

  From Jin’s perspective, everything unfolded with unsettling clarity.

  The closer he got, the harder his heart pounded.

  It wasn’t fear.

  It wasn’t tension.

  It felt as though something inside him was awakening.

  The sounds of battle reached him first: steel clashing, savage growls, strangled shouts. Then came the metallic stench of blood—thick, hot, real. Jin frowned unconsciously; his grip on the reins tightened as his eyes swept across the scene at lightning speed.

  He saw the stopped carriage.

  He saw the exhausted guards retreating.

  He saw the cultivators fighting a beast that was clearly not ordinary.

  And then he saw it.

  A guard on the ground.

  A wolf leaping, jaws wide open—certain death.

  In that instant, something boiled inside him.

  There was no time to think.

  No hesitation.

  No calculations.

  Jin released the reins, twisted his body with near-instinctive fluidity, and grabbed the spear.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  He didn’t use Qi.

  He didn’t activate any profound technique.

  Just a mundane technique—one he had practiced thousands of times in his past life, and in this one as well. Refined, corrected, distilled until only its purest form remained. Movement, angle, breathing… everything aligned with terrifying perfection.

  The world seemed to slow.

  The wind brushed his cheek.

  His arm extended.

  His wrist rotated at the exact angle.

  And the spear flew.

  It wasn’t a violent or exaggerated throw. It was clean. Direct. So precise it would have been worthy of any world championship back on Earth. The weapon sliced through the air with a dry whistle, invisible to most.

  An instant later, impact.

  The wolf was pierced without even time to whimper, its body dragged by inertia until it was pinned against a thick tree, lifeless.

  The silence that followed was brief… but heavy.

  Jin watched from atop his horse, breathing calmly.

  And then he felt it.

  His eyes shone with a strange, deep glow—almost entirely golden.

  He didn’t understand why.

  He had never felt this while cultivating.

  Not during training with Senior Sister Mei.

  Not even when breaking his own physical limits.

  This was different.

  It was emotion.

  Pure, intense, burning.

  A primitive, powerful sensation surged through his blood, as if every fiber of his body screamed that this was the right place, the right moment. There was no fear, no nervousness, no doubt.

  Only a dangerous, intoxicating certainty.

  This…

  This is living.

  Fixing his gaze on the battlefield, Jin inhaled deeply, pressed his heels into his horse’s sides, and continued forward.

  When he reached a certain distance from the conflict, Jin yanked the reins hard.

  The horse neighed, dug its hooves into the ground, and skidded to an abrupt stop. In the same instant, Jin used the momentum—releasing the saddle, twisting his body midair, and launching himself forward, leaving the animal behind.

  He wouldn’t risk it.

  That battlefield was no place for an ordinary beast.

  His body traced a clean arc, and when he landed, his feet sank slightly into the damp forest soil. The impact was light, controlled… but what shook him wasn’t the landing.

  It was his blood.

  It burned hotter than before.

  Jin clenched his teeth. He felt it clearly now: a dense heat coursing through his chest, flowing down his arms, tightening his muscles. It wasn’t Qi running wild.

  It was instinct.

  So he listened to it.

  Without saying a word, he charged toward the wolves.

  He knew it was reckless. He knew there were safer options—observe, coordinate, assess. But something inside him screamed that this wasn’t the time to think.

  It was the time to move forward.

  The wolves noticed him instantly.

  Their ears perked up. Their growls changed pitch. Amid the chaos, the pack reacted with eerie coordination—six of the eighteen split off, turning toward the new intruder, fangs bared, eyes gleaming with cold ferocity.

  Jin watched as they advanced in a semicircle.

  And then he noticed it.

  There were no mortal wolves.

  Every one moving toward him radiated a faint but unmistakable pressure: equivalent to the first, second, even third level of Qi Condensation. Beasts that had already crossed the threshold—no longer mere animals.

  For a brief moment, an almost incredulous laugh crossed Jin’s mind.

  So…

  This is the standard.

  His grip tightened.

  His stance shifted.

  The spear wasn’t in his hand—but his body was already ready.

  The six wolves lunged at once, earth and leaves flying beneath their paws.

  And Jin, heart blazing, eyes glowing like golden embers—

  Did not move.

  He stood there, back straight, breathing slow and steady as the wolves closed in. Their low growls blended with the crunch of leaves beneath their paws, forming a tense rhythm.

  He could feel his Qi flowing smoothly within him.

  Seventh level of Qi Condensation.

  With just a little pressure, he could intimidate them. With a bit more, he could kill them effortlessly. Jin knew it—and precisely because of that, he didn’t do it.

  Not this time.

  He wanted to feel it.

  He wanted to know if all that pain, those months of brutal training, Senior Sister Mei’s precise blows that made him see stars… if all of it had been worth it.

  He wanted to see if the Jade Dragon Body truly deserved to be called the strongest body art of Jade Peak.

  So he emptied his mind.

  He didn’t gather Qi.

  He simply let his body speak.

  The first wolf hesitated. The second circled left. The third lowered its body, ready to pounce. Jin didn’t look at them directly; his awareness was dispersed, like a still lake reflecting everything.

  Then he felt it.

  A subtle change in the air.

  A weight descending from behind—from a blind spot.

  Jin reacted on instinct.

  His body twisted just enough. His foot pivoted on the damp earth, and in the same motion as he dodged, his arm shot backward.

  It wasn’t elegant.

  It wasn’t a technique.

  It was a pure punch.

  All the power of his physical body—muscles, bones, tendons, blood—compressed into that instant and exploded forward.

  The impact was dry.

  A muffled sound, as if something had been struck from the inside.

  And then—

  BOOM.

  The wolf exploded.

  It wasn’t thrown back.

  It wasn’t sent flying.

  It simply burst—like a balloon inflated past its limit. Blood, flesh, and fragments of bone scattered in every direction.

  The world seemed to freeze.

  Jin stood still, his fist still extended.

  Hot blood splattered across his face, chest, arms. Thick droplets slid down his cheek and hit the ground with heavy splats.

  His eyes widened slightly.

  “…What…?” he thought, unable to finish the sentence.

  The other wolves froze.

  The growls died in their throats. Their tense bodies instinctively recoiled, pupils dilated as they stared at a scene they couldn’t comprehend.

  A single blow.

  And one of theirs had ceased to exist.

  Jin slowly lowered his gaze to his own fist, coated in blood and bits of flesh.

  His mind was blank.

  Not from fear.

  But from astonishment.

  The Jade Dragon Body…

  Wasn’t just strong.

  It was monstrous.

  Honestly, Jin didn’t know if that made him strong or not.

  He had no real point of comparison. He had never fought someone at his own level with killing intent. He had never seen another seventh-level Qi Condensation cultivator fight at full strength.

  Was it luck? Or truly…?

  He shook his head slightly, casting aside those useless thoughts before they could take root. This wasn’t the time to philosophize.

  He looked up.

  Five wolves remained around him, forming an uneven semicircle. Their bodies were tense, hind legs poised more for retreat than attack. The smell of fresh blood hung heavy in the air, and Jin could clearly see fear reflected in their eyes.

  For an instant, the battlefield fell into a strange silence.

  Then—

  Auuuuuuuu—!

  A deep, hoarse howl laden with savage pressure echoed from ahead.

  Jin turned his head.

  It was the blood-red wolf.

  Its crimson fur looked darker than before, soaked in blood—most of it belonging to the cultivators rather than itself. Its eyes burned with feral light as it stared at the nonexistent corpse of its subordinate… then locked directly onto Jin.

  That howl wasn’t just a cry.

  It was an order.

  Jin felt the change immediately.

  The five wolves surrounding him shuddered, as if something had been ignited within them. Their backs arched, muscles swelling slightly, veins bulging beneath their fur. Their eyes, once hesitant, became bloodshot.

  Fear was crushed.

  Replaced by raw, chaotic, violent aggression.

  “An ability…?” Jin thought, frowning.

  It wasn’t a refined technique like those of human cultivators, but it was clear the blood-red wolf had activated some innate skill—a howl that stimulated its pack, forcibly pushing their potential beyond normal limits.

  The wolves no longer moved with coordination.

  But each of them now radiated greater strength.

  Not much.

  Perhaps just a step more.

  But in a real fight, that small increase could mean the difference between life and death.

  One wolf lowered its body and lunged without warning. Another followed from a different angle. A third opened its jaws, aiming straight for Jin’s throat.

  Jin inhaled slowly.

  Blood still ran hot through his veins.

  The corners of his lips curved ever so slightly.

  “So… you want to keep going?”

  He flexed his fingers, feeling the solidity of his bones, the perfect tension of his muscles.

  This time, he didn’t wait.

  With a firm step forward, Jin entered the pack, ready to see just how far the body he had forged through pain could truly go.

  The first wolf leapt, jaws wide, targeting his throat. Jin twisted his torso slightly—just enough. His fist traced a short, clean arc, striking the side of its skull.

  Crack!

  The wolf was slammed into the ground without even a whimper.

  The second came from the right. Jin lifted his leg in a high kick, heel cutting a perfect line through the air. The blow landed on the snout with a dull thud; the neck bent at an impossible angle before the body rolled several meters away.

  The third and fourth attacked almost simultaneously.

  Jin stepped forward, slipping between them with terrifying calm. His hand closed around one wolf’s neck. He felt the muscles tense, the bones resist… and applied just a bit more force.

  Craaaack!

  The neck snapped like a dry branch. The body fell limp before it even hit the ground.

  The last wolf hesitated.

  That instant was enough.

  Jin advanced, his punch direct and unadorned, smashing into the skull. The wolf exploded backward, leaving a trail of blood and fragments before going still.

  Silence.

  Five bodies lay on the ground.

  Jin stood among them, breathing normally. He didn’t have a single new scratch. His clothes were stained with blood, yes—but none of it was his.

  For a moment, even he remained still.

  Then he looked up.

  The main conflict was still ongoing.

  The human guards, though wounded, were still holding a precarious formation around the carriage. They could endure… a little longer.

  But farther ahead—

  The two cultivators were clearly at their limit.

  The blood-red wolf moved like a crimson shadow, each charge forcing them back. One had ragged breathing; the other was already bleeding from the side. Their techniques clashed against claws and fangs with increasing difficulty.

  Jin narrowed his eyes.

  If this continues… they’ll die.

  He hesitated.

  Just a few seconds.

  But his body was still vibrating.

  His blood still boiling.

  “Tch…”

  He clicked his tongue softly.

  “Guess I’m already in too deep.”

  He bent his legs and vanished from where he stood, launching forward with a controlled explosion of strength. The ground cracked beneath his feet as he charged straight toward the most dangerous fight.

  Jin arrived just in time.

  The first cultivator was sent flying after colliding head-on with a claw wrapped in crimson Qi. Though he managed to cross his weapon before his chest, the impact was brutal; the dull crash echoed like a drum.

  Before his body hit the ground, Jin appeared beneath him.

  “—!”

  The cultivator barely had time to widen his eyes before he felt firm arms catch him. Jin absorbed the fall with a twist of his torso and staggered back several steps, digging his feet into the earth until the momentum completely dissipated.

  The ground cracked slightly beneath his heels.

  He didn’t stop.

  Almost simultaneously, Jin saw the other cultivator exposed. The blood-red wolf lunged forward, jaws open, aiming straight for his head. Crimson Qi swirled around its fangs like a living blade.

  Jin released the first cultivator and surged forward.

  His fist shot out in a straight line, unadorned, this time carrying not only physical strength—but a trace of Qi.

  But—

  The wolf’s eyes flashed.

  With absurd speed for its size, the blood-red wolf twisted its body midair, dodging the blow by a hair’s breadth. Jin’s fist grazed its fur, unleashing a shockwave that made nearby trees tremble.

  Jin didn’t pursue.

  Instead, he seized that instant.

  His free hand shot out and yanked the second cultivator by the clothes, dragging him out of the snapping jaws just as they closed with a dry clack.

  The cultivator was sent flying, landing beside the first.

  Jin stepped forward.

  He planted himself between them and the blood-red wolf.

  His posture was relaxed, but his center of gravity was low—solid as a mountain. His golden eyes never left the wolf, which now stared back with a mix of fury and caution.

  The air tightened.

  Without turning his head, Jin spoke in a firm, clear voice, as if he weren’t standing before a bloodthirsty beast.

  “You’re not done yet.”

  The two cultivators panted, their internal Qi in disarray, bodies covered in wounds. But upon hearing those words, they clenched their teeth.

  “You can still move,” Jin continued. “Go to the guards. Help finish off the rest of the wolves.”

  The blood-red wolf growled, scraping the ground with a claw, its crimson Qi churning violently.

  Jin smiled, a hint of excitement flickering through his expression.

  “This one…”

  “…is mine.”

  The wolf lowered its head, bloodshot eyes locking onto Jin.