The heavens wept.

Thunder rumbled through the sky as rain poured over the slums, washing away filth but never the misery. In a small, dimly lit shack, a woman lay on the cold floor, her body broken, her breath shallow. She had once been beautiful, but years of torment had left her a hollow shell.

She was nothing more than a tool for the rich—a plaything discarded after being used. And now, she was dying.

But before her last breath, she gave birth.

A child’s wail pierced through the storm, loud and unwavering, as if defying fate itself. The rain grew heavier, lightning cracked across the heavens, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to take notice.

Then silence.

The mother’s lifeless body lay still, her duty in this world complete.

The slum dwellers, drawn by the cries, gathered around the newborn. But no hands reached out to help. No voices whispered words of comfort. To them, he was another burden—another mouth to feed in a world where kindness had no value.

Then, from the shadows, a figure emerged.

A hunter.

The Man from the Mountains

The hunter stood tall and broad, his weathered skin a deep brown, his face marred by a long scar running across his left eye. He was a man of the wilderness, a survivor of the deadliest forest known to the world. He had no cultivation, no grand power, but he knew how to live where others perished.

He looked down at the child. Weak. Frail. Born from suffering.

He should have left him.

Yet something held him in place.

Perhaps it was the way the storm had raged the moment the boy was born, as if the heavens themselves had marked his arrival. Perhaps it was fate.

With a grunt, the hunter picked up the child and walked away, leaving the slums behind.

Baptized by Poison

The forest of the dead was no place for the weak. It was a land of venomous creatures, deadly plants, and ancient curses. But the hunter had long since conquered its dangers, knowing where to tread and what to avoid.

The boy was sickly, his body barely clinging to life. Without a mother to feed him, his survival was near impossible. But the hunter did not give up.

If the heavens wanted the boy to live, they would decide his fate.

So, he did what no sane man would do.

He fed the child poison.

Each day, Tianze’s small body was given herbs laced with venom, his skin bathed in concoctions that would make even grown men scream in agony. The hunter knew it was madness, but he also knew that in this world, weakness was death. If the child could not endure, then he was never meant to live.

Days turned to months.

Months turned to years.

By the age of five, Tianze no longer resembled the frail newborn from the slums. His body, once weak and sickly, had transformed. His blood had been tempered by countless poisons, his flesh hardened by the cruelest medicines.

And on his fifth birthday, the heavens answered.

His eyes, once dull and lifeless, shone with an unnatural light. His breath, once weak and ragged, now carried a force beyond normal men.

He had been reborn.

A child no longer bound by fate. A child who would carve his own .

--

The morning sun peeked through the towering trees, casting long golden streaks across the wooden hut. Tianze had never felt so alive. For the first time in his short life, his body felt light, free from the constant pain of his harsh treatment. His small hands reached out to chase a butterfly, his laughter echoing through the air as he ran wildly, climbed trees, and leaped over fallen logs. His world, once confined to the four walls of his home, now stretched infinitely before him.

Sitting on a large rock, Arthur, the rugged hunter who had raised him, watched in silence. His sharp eyes followed Tianze’s every movement, his weathered face betraying a hint of warmth. The boy survived. Against all odds, he lived.

Tianze soon tired out, collapsing onto the ground, panting with a satisfied grin. But excitement still burned in his eyes. He turned to Arthur, his voice eager.

"Take me hunting with you!"

Arthur raised a brow. "You're not ready."

"I can do it!" Tianze insisted. "I want to see the world outside!"

Arthur sighed, rubbing his scarred cheek. He knew the dangers of the Forest of Death—a land filled with poisonous creatures, cunning beasts, and unseen horrors. The boy had potential, but he was still too young.

"Fine," Arthur finally said. "On one condition—you’ll be tied to my back the whole time. No talking, no moving."

Tianze beamed, nodding eagerly. He didn’t care about the rules. He was finally stepping into the unknown!

Into the Forest of Death

Arthur moved like a shadow through the trees, his spear slung across his back. Tianze, securely tied, clung to him in silence. The boy’s heart pounded as he took in the massive trees, their roots twisted like the claws of ancient beasts. The scent of damp earth mixed with something bitter—the unmistakable odor of poison lingering in the air.

Arthur’s voice was calm but firm. "Listen well, boy. The forest is alive. Everything here is either hunting or hiding. If you don’t learn the difference, you won’t last long."

He pointed to a tree. "See those vines? They’re not vines. Touch them, and they’ll coil around you like a snake and crush you."

Tianze shuddered. Arthur continued.

"That flower there—looks harmless, doesn’t it? One whiff of its pollen will make you hallucinate until you wander off a cliff."

The deeper they went, the more Tianze realized—this wasn’t just a forest. It was a battlefield where the weak perished, and only the strong thrived.

Suddenly, Arthur halted. His muscles tensed. Without a word, he crouched low, his sharp eyes locking onto movement ahead.

A horned boar.

It was smaller than the beasts Arthur usually hunted, but its thick hide and razor-sharp tusks made it dangerous.

"Our target," Arthur whispered. "Watch closely."

Tianze held his breath. Arthur moved with the precision of a predator, silent as the wind. In one swift motion, he flung a small pouch into the air. A powder burst forth, scattering over the boar. The beast sniffed, hesitated—then staggered as its limbs weakened.

Arthur lunged. His spear struck true, piercing the beast’s neck. The boar let out a final gurgle before collapsing.

Tianze’s eyes widened. "That was… amazing!"

Arthur smirked. "That was only a weak prey. Next time, we go after something bigger."

As they prepared to head back, Tianze realized something deep within him had awakened. He was no longer the frail boy confined to a hunter’s hut. This was his first step toward the unknown—a world where only the strong survived.

And he would become stronger.

Over the months, Tianze had transformed. His father, Arthur, had trained him relentlessly, turning him into a child of the jungle. He no longer stumbled over roots or made noise while moving. He could climb trees with ease, leap between branches like a beast, and recognize the hidden dangers of the wild. He knew which flowers held deadly toxins, which herbs could heal, and which animals were best avoided.

Today was his sixth birthday. And Arthur had a gift for him.

"Let's hunt something big," Tianze said eagerly.

Arthur smirked. "Alright. How about a Demonic Drake?"

Tianze’s eyes widened. A Demonic Drake—a creature from the forbidden depths of the jungle. It was too dangerous even for seasoned hunters.

"It’s a young one," Arthur added. "It recently wandered into this side of the forest. If we don’t kill it now, it will take over the area and make hunting impossible."

Tianze nodded, excitement and nervousness mixing in his chest.

They gathered their supplies—ropes, a spear, a massive axe, and a pouch of special herbs. These herbs masked their presence, making them invisible to most beasts. Then, they set off.

Into the Wild

Tianze kept pace with his father, his footing sure and his breathing controlled. He was no longer the weak child who struggled to keep up. His body had grown strong, his instincts sharper.

As they moved through the jungle, Arthur pointed at a blood-red flower with a strange glow.

"This is a Crimson Underflower," he said. "Highly poisonous, but also a miraculous medicine for those who practice the Way of Poison."

Tianze listened carefully.

"But," Arthur continued, "these herbs are always guarded. Look closely."

Tianze scanned the surroundings and spotted a massive black serpent, coiled nearby. Its scales glistened, and its eyes gleamed with cold menace.

"This one is too dangerous. We’ll leave it for now."

They moved forward, carefully avoiding the snake’s territory.

The Demonic Drake

Arthur stopped abruptly. He knelt and examined the ground. Tracks. Fresh.

He turned to Tianze and signaled for silence. The Demonic Drake was near.

A rustling sound came from the bushes. Tianze held his breath.

Then, with an earth-shaking roar, the Demonic Drake burst forth.

It was larger than they had expected, its obsidian-black scales reflecting the dim jungle light. Its eyes burned with bloodlust, and its razor-sharp claws dug into the earth.

The beast crushed a tree in a single swipe.

But it hadn't sensed them.

Arthur and Tianze were coated in the scent-masking herbs. Any cultivator would have been detected instantly due to their Qi, but Arthur and Tianze had none. They were ghosts to the drake.

Arthur wasted no time. He climbed a massive tree with Tianze, positioning themselves above the beast. The plan was simple: lure it into a trap.

They set a rabbit as bait, tying a thin thread around its leg. Hidden inside the rabbit’s fur was a small pouch of poison.

The drake stomped forward. It sniffed the air, its forked tongue flicking out.

But it didn’t take the bait.

Instead, it roared in fury, realizing it was a trap. The beast’s anger surged, and it began rampaging. Trees fell, the ground shook, and the entire jungle seemed to tremble under its rage.

Arthur turned to Tianze. "Stay here and watch. This is a lesson."

Then, he disappeared into the jungle.

The Perfect Trap

Arthur sprinted toward the Crimson Underflower, where the black serpent was still resting. He had no intention of fighting it—only provoking it.

In a single motion, he flung a rope around the herb and yanked it from the ground.

The serpent’s eyes snapped open.

With a hiss of fury, it lunged.

Arthur bolted, leading the furious beast straight toward the Demonic Drake. The drake, already in a frenzy, saw the serpent enter its territory.

The moment their eyes met, the real battle began.

The serpent struck first, sinking its venomous fangs deep into the drake’s side. The drake retaliated, biting the snake in half with a single crunch.

But the damage was done.

The venom coursed through the drake’s veins, slowing it down.

Arthur saw his chance.

He leaped from the trees, his spear in hand, and plunged it into the drake’s exposed throat.

The beast let out a final, shuddering breath before collapsing.

Arthur cut away the poisoned flesh, ensuring the meat remained safe to sell. Then, he signaled for Tianze to come down.

"Watch closely," he said, kneeling beside the drake’s corpse. "This is how you harvest an inner crystal."

From deep inside the drake’s chest, Arthur pulled out a small, glowing gem.

"Every demonic beast has one. These are their cores—the source of their strength."

Tianze’s eyes burned with determination.

Arthur placed a hand on his head. "We are not cultivators, Tianze. We do not chase power like they do. But strength… strength comes in many forms."

With their bags and hands full, they returned home.

Tianze had seen his first great hunt. And he knew—this was only the beginning.

End of Chapter 3