Jin did not lower his guard for even a single moment.
The red wolf before him was enormous. If he had to find a comparison from his past life, he would say it was the size of a bull—broad and muscular, with thick legs capable of shattering rock when it leapt, and dark crimson fur that seemed to swallow the light. Every breath made its chest expand like a bellows, and the reddish Qi surrounding it seeped into the air, dense and aggressive.
Big… far too big for an ordinary wolf.
As he observed it, Jin allowed his mind to work calmly, as if he were not standing in the middle of a battlefield.
Over the past eight months, he had done more than train himself to exhaustion. He had also read everything he could get his hands on: basic manuals, records of spiritual beasts, incomplete maps, and old books no one seemed to touch. He was no expert, but he knew how to recognize when something did not add up.
And this did not add up at all.
Crimson Fang Wolf…
The name surfaced clearly in his memory.
A subspecies of spiritual wolf, named for its long, sharp fangs capable of piercing low-grade armor as if it were paper. Extremely aggressive beasts, naturally inclined toward combat, with speed that far surpassed other creatures of the same cultivation level.
Jin recalled the book’s description.
“They inhabit distant regions, wild areas near the edge of the territory managed by the sect…” he murmured under his breath.
His eyes narrowed.
They should not be here.
This place was far too close to the city under the sect’s protection. Too trafficked. Too… controlled.
The wolf growled, baring its long, curved crimson fangs, thick saliva dripping from them. The Qi around it stirred, as if responding to Jin’s hostility, pressing heavily against the air between them.
Jin adjusted his stance slightly.
Not only is it strong… it doesn’t belong here.
And in Jin’s experience, when something like that happened, it was rarely a coincidence.
Yet instead of fear, he felt his blood boiling—hot, alive. His fingers slowly curled into fists, and an almost imperceptible smile crossed his face.
No matter what… he thought. I’ll bring you down first.
The Crimson Fang Wolf lowered its body, preparing to attack.
And Jin stepped forward.
He circulated his Qi without restraint.
The energy surged from his dantian and flowed through every meridian with near-perfect smoothness, reinforcing muscles, tendons, and bones. His skin took on a faint sheen, as if an invisible layer had fused with his body.
The next instant, he vanished.
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he lunged toward the Crimson Fang Wolf. There was no shout, no warning—only an explosion of movement. Jin lowered his center of gravity and launched a clean feint toward the wolf’s left flank, a direct, precise strike meant to force a reaction.
But the wolf was no ordinary beast.
With unnatural agility for its size, it twisted midair, easily evading the blow. Its hind legs slammed into the ground, and in the same motion it shot forward like a red bolt of lightning.
Jin frowned.
Fast!
He could not clearly see when it happened. In the blink of an eye, the wolf’s claws were already upon him. The air tore with a violent whistle, and Jin reacted purely on instinct, twisting his body hurriedly.
“Tsk!”
The pain came an instant later.
The claws grazed his thigh, ripping fabric and drawing blood. Jin staggered back several steps, planting his feet firmly to keep from losing balance.
He lowered his gaze.
The wound was there. Bleeding, yes… but shallow.
There was no exposed bone, no hanging flesh, none of the devastation he had expected from facing a beast of this level.
Jin’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.
That’s it?
The Crimson Fang Wolf landed in front of him, growling furiously, clearly convinced that the attack should have been decisive.
Jin touched the wound with his fingers. It burned, but the pain was superficial. His thigh remained solid, responsive.
Then he understood.
The Jade Dragon Body.
The first level, cultivated to its peak, had hardened his flesh far more than he had imagined. Those claws—capable of shredding an ordinary cultivator of the same level—had barely broken his skin.
A low laugh escaped his lips.
“So… it really works.”
He lifted his gaze, golden eyes locking onto the wolf, shining with dangerous intensity. His initial surprise sharpened into something purer.
Confidence.
Jin bent his knees slightly, adopting a more aggressive stance.
“My turn.”
The Crimson Fang Wolf growled louder, as if it had sensed the change.
This time, neither intended to retreat.
The clash continued without pause.
Jin advanced, the ground cracking beneath his steps, unleashing a succession of direct, heavy strikes, each infused with Qi and physical force in perfect synchrony. His fists tore through the air with dull booms—but none landed.
The Crimson Fang Wolf moved like a red shadow.
Despite its massive size, its body seemed weightless. It leapt, twisted, and propelled itself with absurd speed, dodging each attack by the slimmest margin. Its fangs passed inches from Jin’s neck, its claws brushed his chest, leaving shallow grooves without breaking flesh.
“Tch…”
Jin leapt back, breathing steadily, eyes sharp as blades.
It’s not just fast… it knows how to fight.
From that brief but intense exchange, the conclusion formed clearly in his mind.
If this thing were a cultivator… it would be at the sixth level of Qi Condensation.
No higher. But no lower either.
And yet the pressure it exerted was brutal.
Jin suddenly recalled the scene from moments ago: the two human cultivators being pushed to the brink of death in just a few exchanges.
Now he understood.
It wasn’t that they were weak.
It was that demonic beasts were monsters by nature.
At equal levels, their physical strength, endurance, and killing instinct far surpassed those of human cultivators. Where humans refined techniques and precisely controlled their Qi, beasts were born to kill.
The Crimson Fang Wolf roared and lunged again.
This time, Jin did not attack.
He focused solely on evasion—twisting his torso, shifting his feet, letting the claws pass by a breath away. Every movement was measured, every step calculated.
I can’t force an opening… not yet.
One mistake would cost him flesh.
Yet at the same time, something began to grow within him.
The longer the exchange continued, the clearer the difference became.
I’m stronger… but it’s faster.
Which meant only one thing.
If he wanted to win, he couldn’t keep chasing it.
He had to force it to make a mistake.
Jin’s eyes narrowed, a faint smile curving his lips as he dodged another deadly charge.
“Let’s see… how long you can keep that pace.”
The real battle was only just beginning.
Jin stopped retreating.
The moment the Crimson Fang Wolf lunged again, something in Jin’s posture changed completely. His breathing grew deep and steady, and the Qi flowing through his body ceased its even dispersion.
It focused.
The energy gathered in his right arm—not explosively, but compressed to the limit, as if every muscle fiber were a perfectly polished channel.
Organ-Shattering Fist.
A mortal-grade martial technique, intermediate level.
It was not flashy.
It was not ostentatious.
But Jin had pushed it to its highest point: mastery.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
He didn’t need to shout its name.
He didn’t need an exaggerated stance.
When he advanced, his fist looked ordinary—until the air in front of it collapsed.
The strike did not seek to land.
It sought to threaten.
An invisible, penetrating pressure shot toward the Crimson Fang Wolf like a lethal needle aimed at piercing flesh and organs.
The beast’s instinct screamed danger.
Its pupils contracted, and for the first time since the battle began, it retreated instantly, digging its hind legs into the earth and sliding several meters back, kicking up dust and leaves.
Jin did not pursue.
As his fist halted, he pivoted on his heel and leapt.
His body shot toward the side of the road—toward the thick tree where his black steel spear was still embedded, the corpse of another wolf skewered into the trunk.
The ground vanished beneath him in a blink.
Midair, Jin extended his arm, fingers closing precisely around the dark shaft.
The spear vibrated as he ripped it free with a sharp pull, the wolf’s corpse falling lifelessly to the ground.
Upon landing, Jin spun the spear naturally, adopting a firm, stable stance—entirely different from before.
His eyes locked onto the Crimson Fang Wolf once more.
The beast growled, ears pinned back, fangs bared.
Now it understood.
The human before it had deceived it.
“Now then,” Jin murmured, tightening his grip. “Let’s continue.”
The air between them tensed.
The Crimson Fang Wolf attacked.
It was not a simple leap, nor a frontal charge.
Its body vanished from where it stood, becoming a red shadow that crossed the distance between them in a blink. The air exploded beneath its paws, its fangs aiming straight for Jin’s throat.
Too fast.
Overwhelming.
But this time… it wasn’t enough.
—!
Clang.
The spear tip appeared just in time, intercepting the attack with surgical precision. The metallic impact rang out, sharp and dry, and the wolf was deflected by mere centimeters—just enough for its fangs to bite empty air.
It had no time to adjust.
The wolf twisted, attacking from another angle, claws and fangs chaining into a ferocious sequence. Every movement was lethal, every strike meant to kill an ordinary cultivator.
But every time it seemed it would land—
Clang.
Clash.
Whoosh.
The spear was there.
Always.
Jin did not retreat in panic, nor did he force evasions. His steps were short, measured, almost calm. The shaft spun, slid, appeared at impossible angles—blocking, deflecting, cutting.
A shallow gash opened along the wolf’s side.
Then another on a leg.
Then a bleeding wound on its shoulder.
The Crimson Fang Wolf growled, frustrated, enraged.
Blood began to stain its dark red fur.
Jin saw it all clearly.
A brazen smile slowly spread across his face.
You feel it now, don’t you? he thought. You’re losing.
The pressure had shifted.
Before, he was the one measuring every move, calculating the fatal mistake.
Now, the wolf attacked with urgency and rage, forcing its speed to compensate for something it no longer had.
The advantage.
Jin spun the spear once more and stepped forward.
“Let’s not drag this out.”
Qi flowed.
Not chaotically or explosively, but precisely—running along the spear shaft and wrapping the blade in a faint yet constant glow. The air around it began to vibrate.
Whirling Spear Dance.
A mortal-grade spear technique, intermediate rank.
A defensive-offensive technique based on constant rotation and absolute control of close-range space.
The spear began to spin at terrifying speed.
The world around Jin seemed to contract. The weapon’s rotation defined the domain, creating a zone where every step the wolf took was punished.
The Crimson Fang Wolf tried to retreat—
The spear followed.
It tried to circle—
The tip cut it.
A spin, a lateral thrust—blood.
One step forward, reverse rotation—another wound.
A desperate frontal charge—the shaft struck, the blade pierced, tearing flesh.
The wolf was cornered.
Every movement injured it.
Every second weakened it.
Its breathing grew heavy, erratic. Its legs trembled as blood dripped to the ground.
Jin advanced unhurriedly, the spear spinning like a natural extension of his body.
Cold.
Certain.
Relentless.
The Crimson Fang Wolf was no longer a predator.
It was prey—just beginning to realize…
that the end was near.
The spear’s rotation changed.
It was not faster, nor more violent.
It was intentional.
Jin took half a step to the left. The shaft traced a low arc, and for a fraction of a second, the wolf’s right flank was exposed.
That was enough.
Jin’s golden eyes sharpened.
Without fully withdrawing the spear, he maintained just enough pressure to limit the beast’s movement. At the same time, his right arm drew back, muscles tightening like a fully drawn bow.
The Qi did not explode.
It condensed.
“Organ-Shattering Fist.”
The strike was released.
It was not wide or exaggerated. It was short, direct, brutally precise—aimed at the wolf’s chest at the exact moment it tried to regain balance.
CRACK.
Jin felt it clearly.
Not just the impact against flesh, but the internal crunch—the dry collapse of bone, the deep tremor that rippled through the beast’s body as the force penetrated beyond skin and muscle.
The Crimson Fang Wolf let out a strangled howl.
Its massive body was hurled backward as if struck by an invisible wall. It flew through the air, smashed violently into a thick tree, and brought it down with a dull, thunderous crash as the trunk split apart.
The forest fell silent.
Leaves drifting down.
Dust suspended in the air.
The distant echo of the impact fading away.
Jin remained still, spear in hand, chest rising and falling with deep breaths. His eyes never left the wolf’s body.
One second.
Two.
Nothing.
The Crimson Fang Wolf did not move.
Blood slowly spread beneath it, and its once-powerful chest was unnaturally caved in.
Jin finally relaxed his shoulders.
“…Hah.”
A long breath escaped his lips.
He turned around.
The battlefield was no longer the chaos it had been.
The howls had ceased, and the remaining wolves lay motionless in the brush. The surviving guards breathed heavily—some leaning on their spears, others seated on the ground with visible wounds, but alive. There were bodies… yes. Several.
Not everyone had made it.
But it had not been a total massacre.
Jin knew it immediately.
If he had not intervened…
He did not finish the thought.
As he approached, he noticed the way several guards looked at him—not with fear, nor distrust.
With respect.
Some even bowed their heads slightly without realizing it.
The two cultivators lay on the ground—one propped against a broken carriage wheel, the other flat on his back—both slowly channeling Qi to close internal wounds. Their faces were pale, soaked in sweat, but they were alive… barely.
Jin slowed his pace.
“I thought…” he murmured to himself, “something cliché would happen now.”
A sudden evolution.
A final roar.
A ridiculous twist of fate.
Just as that thought crossed his mind—
The air changed.
It wasn’t immediate.
It wasn’t explosive.
It was… repulsive.
From where the Crimson Fang Wolf’s corpse lay, a thick, viscous energy began to seep out, as if the air itself were being corrupted. A dark crimson aura mixed with black veins slowly rose from the crushed body.
The smell came first.
Metallic.
Rotten.
Unnatural.
Jin frowned instantly.
The nearest guards retreated instinctively—some feeling nauseous, others gritting their teeth as if an invisible pressure crushed their chests.
“What… is that…?” one murmured.
The two cultivators opened their eyes at the same time.
The older one turned even paler.
“That isn’t normal Qi…” he said hoarsely. “It’s… contaminated.”
The crimson-black energy swirled above the wolf’s corpse, forming an irregular, pulsing mass, as if it had a life of its own. Each throb made the surroundings feel heavier, more hostile.
Jin tightened his grip on the spear.
A chill ran down his spine.
It wasn’t fear.
It was instinct.
Something was wrong.
That wolf…
It hadn’t just been out of its territory.
“So there really was something behind all this,” Jin murmured, eyes fixed on the nauseating energy.
The forest—once a battlefield—now seemed to hold its breath.
Jin adopted a combat stance.
His feet rooted into the earth, the spear lowered slightly, its tip aligned with the center of his vision. His breathing slowed, deep and steady, just as Yan Mei had taught him countless times.
Then—
The wolf stood up.
Its chest was grotesquely collapsed, bones caved inward unnaturally. Every movement produced wet, crunching sounds that made one’s teeth grind. Even so, it rose—unsteady yet firm—as if something else were supporting it.
Its eyes were no longer red.
They were black. Deep. Bottomless.
When it fixed its gaze on Jin, there was no animal rage.
There was pure, naked, brutal killing intent.
For an instant—just an instant—Jin’s heart skipped.
Shit…
A flicker of fear rose from the most primitive part of his being.
But it was crushed.
Ground down by the strange emotion swelling inside him.
Jin narrowed his eyes.
The wolf opened its jaws.
It did not roar.
The air around it warped, as if something invisible were gathering in its throat.
That was when Jin heard a shout.
“Young hero!” the older cultivator roared, half rising with a horrified expression. “If this old man is not mistaken… that is demonic energy!”
Jin’s heart sank slightly.
“It shouldn’t be possible for something like this to appear here! Much less in a spiritual beast of this level!”
There was no time for further explanation.
A repugnant, thick, corrosive flow of Qi flooded Jin’s senses. It was unlike normal Qi, unlike even the violent Qi of demonic beasts.
This was different.
As if something alien to the world were forcing its existence.
The ground cracked.
The wolf vanished.
“What—?!”
Jin barely had time to react before the crimson-black figure was already upon him.
The beast lunged with monstrous speed, far beyond what it had shown before, leaving behind a trail of corrupted energy that burned the skin at the slightest touch.
Jin gritted his teeth.
“So you really are fighting dirty…!”
He spun the spear, Qi racing along the shaft like restrained lightning, and his body moved on pure instinct as the wolf’s jaws descended with the intent to tear him apart.
Jin took the blow head-on.
The spear intercepted just in time. The shaft vibrated as if it would shatter, and a brutal impact slammed into his body. The world flipped.
“Guh—!”
He was sent flying several meters, ripping up dirt and stone before crashing into the ground. The air burst from his lungs in a dry gasp, and for a moment everything became a white hum.
Hold on…
He barely managed to rise onto one knee when a sense of death crawled up his spine.
Too late to think.
Jin twisted reflexively, raising the spear at a desperate angle.
CLANG!
Claws slammed into the black steel, the force so absurd his arms went numb instantly. Once again, his body was hurled through the air, rolling violently until he lay covered in dust and blood.
The pain came after.
It wasn’t unbearable—but it was deep, insistent, as if something inside him were warning him.
If this keeps up… I’m going to die.
Jin clenched his teeth until they creaked.
He did not retreat.
Instead, he stood.
His feet sank into the earth, his breathing changed. Qi began to circulate—not just through his meridians, but through his flesh, his bones, every fiber of his being.
Trust.
Trust the Jade Dragon Body.
Memories of the technique flashed through his mind.
“Unyielding Intent…”
The body’s Qi exploded inward.
His meridians were forced to their limits, Qi compressed, every muscle tightening until it became as firm as tempered steel. His skin took on a faint green glow—barely perceptible—but his presence changed completely.
Jin stood still.
Before him, the creature that had once been a Crimson Fang Wolf paused for a fraction of a second. Its twisted form was covered in black veins pulsing beneath the skin, dark, smoking substance dripping from its mouth.
A demon.
The air trembled.
The beast let out an unnatural shriek and hurled itself at him with absolute violence.
Jin lifted his gaze.
“Come.”
And he did not take a single step back.
Jin closed his fingers around the spear shaft.
Qi continued to roar within his body, compressed by Unyielding Intent—steady, obedient. His feet slid slightly across the earth as he assumed a low, stable stance, like a rock anchored in the middle of a raging torrent.
A memory surfaced.
Senior Sister Mei, standing before him, arms crossed, her expression strangely serious.
“Normally, an outer disciple shouldn’t touch this,” she had said. “High mortal-rank techniques are already the limit…”
The scroll she handed him had been simple, unadorned.
Violent Qi Sweep.
A direct, brutal, honest spear technique.
A horizontal sweep that condensed Qi into a short energy wave—not meant to travel far, but to obliterate everything in front of the user.
Jin had only one month to practice it.
One month.
But spear techniques… seemed to speak to him.
He inhaled deeply.
The “beast” before him trembled. Its demonic body was riddled with black cracks, corrupted crimson energy spilling out uncontrollably. Its eyes held no reason—only terrifying, desperate, final killing intent.
It was burning the last of its existence.
The ground shattered as it lunged.
The creature charged at Jin like a living catastrophe.
“Now,” Jin whispered.
He spun the spear.
It wasn’t fast.
It was precise.
Qi flowed from his dantian, through his arms, condensed along the shaft, and detonated at the exact instant. Jin stepped forward and executed the movement with absolute cleanliness.
“Violent Qi Sweep.”
The spear traced a perfect horizontal arc.
BOOOOM!
A compressed wave of energy erupted before him—invisible yet devastating—ripping up the earth, shredding the air, warping space for a brief instant.
The demonic charge and Jin’s sweep collided head-on.
The impact was deafening.
A violent wind swept the field, trees groaned, and guards and cultivators were forced several steps back, shielding their faces.
At the center of the clash, Jin remained standing.
The spear vibrated, his Qi roared—
and the “beast” was cleaved cleanly in two by the wave.
The demonic body split apart, crimson energy exploding in a final shriek before dispersing into the air like filthy smoke carried away by the wind.
Silence.
Jin exhaled slowly.
The spear lowered.
He took one step—
and his legs gave out.
He dropped heavily onto one knee, damp earth yielding beneath his weight. Almost reflexively, he planted the spear in front of him, leaning on it to keep from collapsing completely. The Qi that had sustained him moments before began to dissipate, like a tide retreating without warning.
Then he felt it.
Intense heat at his side.
He looked down.
The fabric was shredded, flesh torn open, blood gushing violently like a broken faucet, soaking his clothes and dripping heavily onto the ground. Only then did he understand: in the final instant, before disappearing, the “beast” had managed to strike him.
“Huh…” he murmured.
There was no immediate pain. Just a strange, distant sensation, as if his body no longer fully belonged to him.
A low, hoarse laugh escaped his lips, tinged with irony.
“I suppose… this was part of the thrill too…”
The world began to tilt. Sounds grew distant, muffled. The sky fractured into blurry patches as strength slowly drained from his arms.
The spear slipped from his fingers.
Jin collapsed forward…
and darkness claimed him.
