"Yawn," Lin Ziao opened his mouth widely to release a long, satisfying yawn as he slowly stirred from sleep.
It had been a really long time since he'd had the luxury of a deep, uninterrupted rest. His body still ached faintly, but the soreness was manageable. His scalded wounds from the fight with the white-furred creature hadn't reopened—thank the heavens.
He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim interior of his shelter. For a second, he forgot where he was—until his gaze swept over the rough wooden walls. Right, the makeshift house he had built just yesterday. It wasn't much—barely more than a glorified shed—but it had kept the cold out and offered enough protection from the elements to catch some real sleep.
He had initially crafted a crude bed out of logs, hoping it would offer some comfort, but the hard surface had nearly torn his wounds open again. So, he'd settled for the floor, lying on his side to keep the worst of the burns untouched.
With a groan, Lin Ziao pushed himself to his feet and walked toward the opening in the wall where a door should've been. He squinted as the early morning sunlight streamed in, the rays warming his skin and giving his tired muscles a small jolt of energy.
"Another day to practice my martial arts," he said to himself with a faint smile.
He bent down and picked up his spear, the one weapon he trusted with his life, and reached for the rolled-up animal skin that contained the ancient martial techniques of the spear. The scroll had cost him dearly—both in coin and blood—but it was worth every bit of the pain.
He sat cross-legged, placed the scroll on the ground, and gently channeled his Qi into the leather. Instantly, the symbols engraved on the skin flared to life, forming glowing characters that lifted from the scroll in a dance of motion.
Each character acted out a specific move with fluid precision—thrusts, slashes, spins, and counterattacks—displayed in sequence. Lin Ziao watched with unwavering focus, absorbing the transitions between stances and the intent behind each maneuver.
As the final move played out, the scroll dimmed and the characters slowly faded, one after the other, as his Qi depleted.
"Alright…" he muttered, rising to his feet and tightening his grip on the spear. "Time to try this out."
He adjusted his footing, mimicking the positions etched into his memory. With every swing, stab, and turn, the air was sliced apart by the whistling blade of the spear.
Whoosh!
Shwik!
Each motion became sharper, more fluid. His spear jabs punctured the air, his slashes created audible snaps, and his backswings flowed like water in motion. He was lost in the rhythm, body and weapon moving as one.
Then—rustling. From the depths of the forest.
Lin Ziao froze mid-sweep. The hairs on his arms stood. The memories of the white-furred beast returned in a cold wave. That rustling—too heavy for an animal, too uneven for a person.
He steadied his breathing and turned toward the sound, curiosity and dread warring in his mind. After a long moment of hesitation, he decided to investigate.
He crept toward the source and emerged into a clearing that stopped his heart cold.
Five hunters lay scattered across the grass, their bodies bloodied and broken. Two of them were missing limbs—torn away like twigs. The coppery stench of blood filled the air, so thick it nearly choked him.
At the center of the carnage stood a towering creature. Its skin was dark and mottled, and it had no mouth, yet it gave off the distinct impression of smiling. It crouched low, cradling a limp hunter, and then—chomp!
A horrible mix of crunching bones and muffled screams echoed through the forest.
Lin Ziao instinctively took a step back, bile rising in his throat. "Shit, I better not get involved in this mess…"
He turned to leave, but something twisted in his chest. His conscience.
"Damned conscience, this is the wrong time for you to be disturbing me. That beast's clearly in the Beast Warrior Realm, for crying out loud," he whispered harshly to himself, trying to reason with his gut.
Another scream. Another body devoured.
Lin clenched his fists. "You know what? Fine. I'll save them. Just stop nagging me."
Truthfully, he could handle this. The creature might be powerful, but it wasn't invincible. The hunters behind it were helpless—they didn't even have a cultivation base.
Lin turned back toward the clearing, eyes narrowing. He grabbed his spear from the soil and stepped forward.
---
The mouthless creature oozed from the shadows like an abomination wearing joggers—tall, hunched, and uglier than Lin Ziao's worst fever dream. Behind it, three barely-breathing hunters lay in a puddle of their own blood.
Lin twirled his spear. "No mouth, huh? Feeling your pain, bro."
The beast shrieked—somehow—and lunged. Lin sidestepped as fast as he could, quickly twisting, and—
Fwack!
The spear shaft slammed into the creature's ribs. A spray of inky black blood splattered the ground.
"Ew," Lin muttered. "Not my last clean shirt. Can't be doing this."
The creature swiped its claws at him, and Lin ducked, spun, and jammed his spear upward—
Shkrrrk!
Straight through the armpit.
The creature shuddered, its screech cut short. Lin ripped the spear back out, pivoted on one foot, and cleaved through its leg with a horizontal swing.
Splurt!
The leg flew. The beast collapsed like a drunk table.
Lin turned to the stunned hunters, grinning. "See? Told you—tall doesn't mean tough."
The creature twitched, and Lin didn't wait.
With one final motion, he hurled the spear like a javelin.
THUNK!
The weapon pierced through the beast's skull with a sickening crunch.
It slumped to the ground, still.
Lin strode over, wiped the black goog off his weapon with a nearby leaf, and muttered, "Now who's headless and mouthless?"
He turned to the surviving hunters. "Come on. Let's get you outta here before any other beast shows up."
"Thank you but who are you actually ?," one of the hunters weakly muttered.