I crouched beside the hedgebeast’s corpse, catching my breath. My hands still trembled a little, though whether from the fight or the Qi, I couldn’t say.

  Wei Lin stepped around the body and drew his knife. “We should take what we can. Bristles are worth something if they’re intact.”

  I nodded and set to work.

  The thing was heavy, but not unmanageable. Wei Lin pointed out which parts were worth keeping—claws, tendons, scent glands, even a few blood sacs that could be traded to the herbalist if we didn’t rupture them. The smell was worse than last time, and I did my best not to gag when we opened its gut.

  Fifteen minutes later, we had a satchel of materials, some blood-slicked tools, and one less threat in the forest.

  “Let’s keep going. ” I spoke, wiping my blade on the grass.

  He nodded his head in agreement. “No sense wasting daylight. That one came fast. We’ll see if anything else is prowling nearby.”

  I looked at him. His stance had settled again—loose, focused, like the fight had never happened. There was a small smear of dirt across his cheek, and his sabre hung comfortably at his side.

  I gave a quiet nod. “Alright. I’ll lead the way.”

  The ridge sloped downward, the trees growing denser the further we went. Light trickled through the branches in thin, flickering shafts. I scanned the underbrush out of habit now, trying to keep my footfalls soft and ears sharp.

  We hunted for another hour that day, but nothing else showed itself.

  A few snapped branches and some faint tracks in the mud—but the forest kept its distance. Even the birds were quiet.

  I tried to keep positive but deep down I needed another fight. Something to give me more Qi and see if it would push me to the next mortal tier.

  Wei Lin filled the silence with the occasional story. Once, about a woman who’d killed a sabresaw— a small cat, of sorts, with long sharp teeth protruding down its jaw— using nothing but fermented bean paste and a hollowed gourd. Another time, a hunter who claimed to have lived among a wolf pack for a season. His delivery made them hard to take seriously, but the way he grinned told me he didn’t care. And I enjoyed the small shit chat he provided. It also gave me more of a view on how this world worked.

  That night, we returned with little to show for it. A few scavenged herbs, some meat from the hedgebeast, and a long walk home. Still, Wei Lin seemed satisfied.

  “It’s not about the haul,” he said, tossing his hat onto its peg by the door. “It’s about stacking stones. One at a time.” He finished, in all his wisdom.

  I didn’t agree.

  ?

  Days passed like that.

  We hunted when we could. Trained when we weren’t too sore. Sold what we gathered—fangs, claws, sometimes meat, sometimes even bones if we found someone interested. The farm still took up our mornings but the routine was about as good as it got.

  Wei Lin was good at bartering. The herbalist no longer glared at him when he walked in. The grocer started calling him “young master farmer,” which he pretended to hate but secretly liked. Every time we came back from town, I noticed the small pile of wrapped coin pouches in the corner of the kitchen growing.

  “Almost enough,” he muttered one evening, carefully tucking the latest pouch beneath a floorboard.

  “For the pill?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Madam Shen says it’s a clear-lung blend. Expensive. But the right dose should cut through the phlegm. Let her breathe easy again.”

  He didn’t look at me as he said it. Just ran a hand over the wooden board and let it settle into place.

  ?

  The nights were cooler now. Not quite cold, but enough to see your breath if you woke before dawn. I found myself sleeping deeper—less tossing, fewer dreams. Maybe my body was finally catching up to the pace.

  I checked the system once during that stretch.

  Still 2/10.

  Still Spirit at 13. Even though we had fought multiple beasts.

  ?

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  On the fifth day, we found a set of boar tracks by the river. Wei Lin thought they looked fresh. We followed them for a while but lost the trail in a patch of thick roots. He blamed his bad luck and the mud covering the ground.

  “You know,” he said, brushing dirt from his pant leg, “if this keeps up, we might actually be able to buy something other than dried radish for once.”

  “Getting ambitious?”

  He grinned. “Thinking about upgrading to salted fish.”

  We pushed west, following the creekbed. It had mostly dried up, just a winding scar in the ground now, half-choked with vines and fallen branches.

  “This place used to flood during the monsoons,” he said, brushing leaves aside with the tip of his sabre. “Now it just collects bones and bugs.”

  It also seemed to collect beasts.

  We found one rooting around in the mud—short-legged, tusked, and mean-looking. This one had dark plates running along its spine and a twitching snout like it didn’t know whether to dig or kill. It looked like a boar with armour.

  I tightened my grip on my sabre. “ Let’s do this.”

  Wei Lin gave a sharp nod.

  I didn’t waste time.

  I shifted my stance, sabre rising to guard. “You see that armor?”

  Wei Lin’s voice was tight beside me. “Yeah. I don’t think we’re cutting through the top.”

  “Then we gotta under.”

  The boar didn’t wait.

  It charged with surprising speed, a living battering ram aimed straight for my chest.

  I dropped low and rolled to the side. Its tusks missed me by inches, the wind of its passing cold against my skin. I came up quick, slashing across its side but the blade bounced off with a jarring clang.

  It kept going, hooves pounding the earth until it skidded, snorted, and wheeled back toward Wei Lin.

  He held his ground.

  “Come on, then,” he shouted.

  It barreled toward him. He stepped aside, just barely. His sabre lashed out. The blade scraped across one of the back plates, only leaving a small cut.

  “Too shallow!” I called. “Aim lower!”

  “Trying!” He yelled back.

  The boar spun again, more agile than anything that heavy had a right to be. Its eyes locked on me this time—small, dark, and filled with mean intelligence.

  I tightened my grip and stepped in. Let it come.

  It charged. I didn’t move until the last second. Then I shifted, pivoted with the rush, and drove the sabre upward into the soft crease behind its foreleg.

  It howled. A deep, ugly sound that rumbled through the trees, and thrashed sideways. My blade tore free. Blood followed, thick and dark, painting the mud at our feet.

  The beast turned, furious now, and snapped toward me. I didn’t have time to get clear.

  Wei Lin moved before I could call out.

  He rushed in and slammed the flat of his blade into its snout. The beast jerked away from me and charged blindly forward, snorting and shaking its massive head.

  I slipped slightly, from the wet ground. Before catching myself and tightening my grip on my now bloody sabre.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “You’re welcome,” he panted. Seemingly innocent but I could see the gleam in his eyes. He had saved me for once. I knew I wouldn’t hear the end of it.

  “Come on, let’s get this big bastard.” I said.

  We circled it, one on each side. The boar’s head tracked us, switching between me and him, flanks heaving, foam thick on its lips. It stomped a hoof, tossing up clumps of wet earth.

  Wei Lin lunged in with a low swing, aiming for the hind leg. The blade bit in just above the joint, and the beast roared, swinging around.

  I was already there.

  I leapt, bringing the sabre down with everything I had—right into the wound I’d made earlier. The tip dug deep. I felt tendons give way as the blade kept sinking in.

  The boar bucked and my body went flying.

  I hit the ground hard, rolled through mud and dead leaves, and came up, only to see two Wei Lin yelling my name. I slapped the side of my head and blinked my eyes. One Wei Lin disappeared.

  The boar charged me and once again Wei Lin helped by throwing himself in its path. His blade flashed once, just enough to make it flinch, to veer off.

  It slammed into a tree behind him with enough force to shake loose a curtain of leaves.

  I didn’t waste the opening.

  I forced myself upright. Pain pulsed in my head, but I ignored it.

  “Draw it again!” I called.

  Wei Lin nodded and charged, yelling his best war cry. The boar turned with a snarl, and I circled behind it, steps measured.

  It lunged at him, fast and wild.

  He ducked, sabre slashing again, this time hitting the back of its leg and drawing blood.

  It shrieked.

  I stepped in clean.

  One strike. Straight to the base of the neck, just above the shoulder. The sabre punched through soft muscle, wedging deep between the armored plates. It flailed, but I held on, driving the blade deeper with both hands.

  The beast jerked, groaned, then fell.

  Its body hit the ground with a wet, final thud.

  It twitched once.

  Then nothing.

  I staggered back, panting, hands trembling around the blood-slicked hilt. Wei Lin collapsed beside the corpse, mud smeared up his arms, breath coming fast.

  “You good?” I asked.

  He looked up at me, nodded, “You?”

  “I’ve been worse.” I smirked. “Good shit by the way.”

  He returned my smirk but didn’t respond. Instead he pulled out his small skinning knife and moved closer to the now still boar.

  We cleaned the kill in practiced silence. My hands worked while my thoughts didn’t. Not until we finished and I straightened again did I feel it—that soft pull beneath my skin.

  The Qi.

  Warmth moved through my chest, through my limbs, until it settled just beneath the surface.

  And then the system responded.

  A low chime. A flicker of light behind my eyes.

  Qi absorbed.

  System Sync in Progress…

  Stats increased

  Strength: 10 → 11

  Spirit: 13 → 14

  Progress: Mortal 2/10 → 3/10

  I let out a slow breath.

  The change in Spirit was familiar—subtle, like something in me had sharpened. But Strength was different. More immediate. The small knife in my hand suddenly felt lighter.

  I didn’t say anything as the screen faded.

  Wei Lin was still checking over the satchel, counting glands and wrapping claws in spare cloth. “Should be enough for a good trade,” he said. “Another one or two like this and we’re there.”

  “For the pill?”

  He nodded.

  We left the forest just before dusk. The wind had picked up by then, brushing cool air through the trees. The scent of earth, sweat and blood clung to me all the way home.

  I could feel the path stretching ahead, longer and steeper than I’d thought. But something about that Qi was addictive. Feeling is corse into my body felt like the perfect high. I already wanted more. And I wasn’t so sure if that was a good thing. But if it would make me stronger and give me a chance at getting home, I won’t stop for anything.

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