The scent of damp earth and the quiet rustle of leaves filled the air as I sat on a rocky ledge, overlooking the endless sea of green below. Days had passed since I first fled into this forest. My body had grown stronger, tougher. My reflexes sharper. Yet, even as my strength rose, the sting of that humiliation clung to me.
The Shadowfur Tiger.
That beast had hunted me down, forcing me to flee like a helpless child. The memory of its roaring charge, its fangs inches from my flesh, burned within me.
I would not forget.
And I would not let it stand.
I tightened my fists, the Crimson Fang Fist technique surging within me, and stood.
This time, I will be the hunter.
Over the next two days, I carefully studied the tiger's movements.
Broken branches, fresh claw marks on trees, the faint trail of crushed undergrowth—it all painted a map that only the patient could follow. Through careful observation, I learned its hunting path, where it drank, and when it rested.
It lowers its guard near the cliffside pond… Perfect.
At sunrise, the forest was still, save for the occasional chirping of birds.
I crept along a narrow outcropping above the pond where the tiger lay, its breathing steady, its powerful muscles relaxed in slumber.
This is my chance.
I gathered all my strength, channeling it into my legs, my arms trembling from the force coiling within me.
With a roar, I leapt.
My fist, coated with a faint crimson glow, plunged straight toward the tiger's exposed underbelly.
Boom!
The beast howled in pain, its body sliding across the ground from the impact.
But I had underestimated it—it was far from finished.
The Shadowfur Tiger sprang up, its furious golden eyes locking onto me.
It charged.
We clashed.
Its claws whistled through the air as I narrowly dodged, my body moving on pure instinct. I countered with the Crimson Fang Fist, each blow aimed for its wounded side.
But the beast was relentless.
Its tail lashed out, striking my ribs, sending me crashing into a nearby boulder.
Pain burned through my side, but I gritted my teeth and forced myself to stand.
I could not retreat. Not now.
I circled around, diving beneath its claws, landing another heavy strike to its ribs. The tiger stumbled, blood pouring from its wounds.
With a final cry, I launched a decisive fist toward its heart.
The tiger let out a last roar before collapsing, its massive body shaking the ground as it fell.
I dropped to my knees, gasping, sweat and blood dripping from my skin.
I had done it. I had won.
I harvested the beast's materials carefully—its sturdy hide, sharp claws, and most importantly, its beast core. It wasn't as valuable as a higher realm core, but for me, it was a hard-earned trophy.
As I sat beside the tiger's fallen form, I realized something.
I'm not ready to return yet.
I had grown—but not enough.
There was still power to chase, battles to fight, a body to temper.
I tightened my grip around the core.
I'll stay here. I'll keep fighting. I won't leave until I reach the Ninth Minor Stage of Body Tempering.
With renewed determination, I ventured deeper into the forest, ready to face whatever came next.