Chapter 36: Mutation

Such an outcome naturally delighted Qiuhan, who continued to sit cross-legged, determined to restore himself to peak condition. There was still another battle to be fought. When the snipe and the clam struggle, the fisherman profits. Now that the flower-marked sable was at its weakest, this was Qiuhan's best chance to exact revenge. He took a handful of spirit stones from his storage pouch, sat atop the large rock, and meditated while absorbing the stones to recover his spiritual energy.

By dawn, the sky was tinged with light. The sun crept slowly up from behind the eastern mountains, and the first sunshine after the rain bathed the land, making even the air seem fresher. Exhaling deeply, Qiuhan rose to end his meditation. After a night of cultivation, his spiritual power had fully returned, and he had adjusted himself to the best possible state in preparation for the coming battle.

Standing at the cliff's edge, Qiuhan peered down into the Spirit Shade Valley but found no trace of the flower-marked sable, likely hidden deep within. Qiuhan pressed his hand to his brow, mentally rehearsing the outcome of his impending fight, and finally, with resolute determination, he soared toward the valley below.

Inside Spirit Shade Valley, the once beautiful grasslands had been ravaged by the battle between the wolf pack and the flower-marked sable. Large swathes of earth had been overturned, exposing yellow clay, and the areas that should have been dense with trees were now devastated. The battle had clearly been fierce.

Qiuhan glanced toward the inner valley, which remained nearly unchanged. The conflict had taken place on the outskirts, far from the inner valley, so its features were mostly preserved. Step by step, Qiuhan made his way inward, unhurried. Nearly half an hour passed before he finally saw the flower-marked sable. To call it miserable was an understatement: its fur was matted with blood, its body covered in wounds—some still bleeding—and the gash on its left shoulder was particularly horrifying.

Upon seeing Qiuhan, the flower-marked sable’s eyes blazed with hostility, and it shrieked at him. Clearly, it hated him deeply; had it not been for him, it would never have ended up like this. Qiuhan immediately produced his defensive spiritual artifact, infused it with energy, and enveloped himself in a protective shield, watching the sable warily.

The flower-marked sable, with only its right arm remaining, charged and swung a fist at Qiuhan, sending him several yards back. Yet, this time, Qiuhan was unharmed—perhaps his cultivation had improved, strengthening his defense, or perhaps the sable was simply too wounded to muster its full strength.

Qiuhan controlled his spirit shield with his left hand and quickly formed a spell with his right, casting Blade of Wind at the flower-marked sable. The creature deflected the wind blade, but a wound appeared on its fist, blood spilling forth—Qiuhan’s spell had injured it.

The sable stared at its right hand, pain twisting its features as it cried out, its hateful eyes fixed upon Qiuhan, though it did not attack again. Qiuhan stood his ground, watching the animal. After another incense stick’s worth of time, the sable’s cries grew low and pitiful, the light of ferocity in its eyes dimming. It lay on the earth, glanced at Qiuhan, and slowly closed its eyes.

Qiuhan sensed how gravely it was wounded; its earlier attack, fierce in appearance but weak in force, and its current state showed it was at the end of its strength. Witnessing this, Qiuhan, who had intended to kill it, now felt a surge of compassion and refrained from attacking. He approached the motionless creature slowly and cautiously.

When he was three yards away, the flower-marked sable suddenly opened its eyes and cried out at Qiuhan, then closed them again, as if resigned to its fate. Startled, Qiuhan quickly retreated, but seeing it remain motionless, he relaxed and sighed. He returned to his previous position and called out loudly, “I do not know if you understand my words. We had no enmity to begin with, nor did I intend to offend you. But you have repeatedly tried to kill me, leading to this outcome. While I am directly involved, you have brought this upon yourself; you cannot blame me!”

He paused, then continued, “You hunted me without cause—that was the seed. I lured you into Spirit Shade Valley, costing you dearly—that was the fruit. I had intended to kill you in revenge for your pursuit, but now that you have received your punishment, I wish not to add more blood to my hands. I grant you a chance at life; you may leave now. Should you seek revenge again, I will show no mercy!”

“Do you understand my words? If you do, I give you one incense stick’s time to disappear from my sight, or else I will not hesitate to break my promise.”

He spoke these last words with stern emphasis, then stepped back, keeping vigilant watch on the motionless sable.

The flower-marked sable raised its massive head, opened its eyes, and gazed at Qiuhan. With a mournful howl, it stood and walked out of the valley.

Qiuhan watched its departure, uncertain why, but when he had prepared to kill it, a memory of his master Gu Sui Feng releasing the white phosphorus python surfaced in his mind. Since that incident, Gu Sui Feng had deeply influenced Qiuhan, and Qiuhan held great respect for the master who treated him with such care. He recalled that event—it was he, along with Chi Yi and others, who had provoked the crimson python beast and killed it, prompting its parents to seek vengeance. In truth, there had been no true enmity.

The world of cultivation is rife with selfishness; for the sake of gain, practitioners act without scruples. There is no right or wrong; only strength determines who is king. Yet, in Qiuhan’s heart, this reality was marked with a great question. Cultivation and immortality—must they truly be so? If all immortals are so selfish, how are they any different from mortals? Perhaps mortals are even better, for most are good at heart.

“My cultivation is not for fame or glory, nor to achieve absolute fairness, nor to live without fault, but simply to act with a clear conscience, to do right by my own heart—nothing more. If others do not wrong me, I do not wrong them. If others do, I will show no mercy. This is my path of cultivation!”

Qiuhan, not yet twenty years of age, at this tender age, had already set a resolute belief for his path of cultivation.