Chapter Eleven: The Hunt

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When the last morsel of food was consumed, even the beast’s blood stored in the hide pouch—originally meant to replenish moisture—was reluctantly used to stave off hunger until not a single drop remained, Cao Yun could only collapse weakly to the ground, a bitter smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “So be it. Since it has come to this, I shall quietly await the arrival of death.”

Yet fate seems to delight in igniting sparks of hope at the most desperate moments.

After an unknown length of unconsciousness, a gentle breeze wafted by, softly awakening his slumbering soul.

Cao Yun’s heart jolted—how could there be wind here? He blinked in a daze, only to find himself lying before the boundary marker of the Myriad Demons Forest, exactly as when Zhang Jin had forcibly taken over his body. Even the night’s hue was the same, as if everything had returned to that very beginning.

The only difference was the emptiness before the marker—Zhang Jin’s corpse was gone, leaving only the silent night and the rustle of wind through leaves.

Struggling to rise, his body frail from prolonged hunger, Cao Yun dared not delay and staggered toward the Abyssless Valley.

Stopping at a bamboo grove, he gently tapped the storage pouch at his waist. A yellow glow flashed as he grasped a short blade. Carefully tapping a few times on a bamboo joint, he carved a thumb-sized hole. Fresh bamboo water trickled out like sweet nectar. Cao Yun eagerly opened his mouth wide, swallowing deeply, as if this life-saving dew could revive him.

After some time, when the flow ceased, he gasped for breath, feeling a faint return of strength. He knew that the fastest remedy for hunger here was the bamboo water and bamboo shoots.

He plucked a fresh bamboo shoot—fragrant, crisp, and delicious even raw. Devouring it voraciously, after half an hour his stomach finally felt full, and he sensed his energy gradually returning.

Settling cross-legged, Cao Yun began circulating his spiritual energy. When it reached his heart, he saw a bluish glow enveloping it—just as he suspected, the binding curse of the Shattered Heart Technique still lingered within him.

In that mysterious space, Cao Yun had tried several times to dispel the curse, but all attempts were futile.

According to Zhang Jin’s estimation, one needed to reach at least the eighth level of Qi Refinement to break the seal.

Though much time had passed in the mysterious space, a subtle premonition clouded Cao Yun’s heart—perhaps in the real world, only an instant had elapsed. To verify this sudden hunch, he decisively unleashed the Wind Mastery Technique. His body instantly transformed into a streak of light, like lightning tearing through the night, racing toward his former cave.

The exhilarating speed lifted his spirits immensely.

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In the blink of an eye, the cave came into view. Upon reentering the familiar space, the scene before him confirmed his suspicion: hanging on the cave wall was the fresh beast meat he had hunted during the day.

This sight plunged Cao Yun into deep contemplation.

If the space truly remained static and unchanging, why then did he feel hunger? And if it was not static, how to explain the dormant curse and the fact that his gauntlets had not absorbed spiritual energy daily as required, and how the fresh blood on the meat still dripped without drying?

This was an irreconcilable contradiction.

Yet Cao Yun quickly found peace.

The path of cultivation is inherently full of mysteries and the unknown. These seemingly conflicting phenomena are precisely the unique wonders of the immortal world.

He then delved deeper into pondering the enigmatic space.

He speculated that this space might be hidden deep within his brow, unnoticed due to his shallow cultivation or because the right moment had yet to arrive. Its origin was undoubtedly connected to the sudden cool sensation he felt before being attacked by the leopard. Moreover, the souls he absorbed from each slain living creature were likely devoured by this space.

But the key question remained: what exactly triggers the activation of this space? Is it naturally triggered after absorbing enough soul essence or must it be activated through a perilous process akin to body takeover? If the former, continuous killing would eventually reopen that mysterious door; if the latter, the conditions would be too harsh and dangerous.

Furthermore, what determines the cessation of this mysterious space? Is it the passage of time reaching a limit, or soul essence consumption hitting a critical threshold?

These questions clouded Cao Yun’s mind like a thick fog, leaving him perplexed.

“Enough. No matter what, I’ve survived. As long as I live, there is hope,” he comforted himself.

At that moment, dawn broke, golden sunlight like gentle fingers softly parted the cave’s gloom, warmly spilling inside and illuminating the entrance.

Stepping out, Cao Yun spread his arms, basking in the warmth of the sun.

His gaze suddenly sharpened. After acquiring Zhang Jin’s memories, he had gained some rudimentary understanding of the Myriad Demons Forest. At that instant, only six words echoed in his heart: the hunting time begins.

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Following a cautious route, Cao Yun entered a vast plain where Spirit-Wolf packs often hunted leopards and wild boars.

Spirit-Wolves were low-intelligence beasts resembling wild wolves. Apart from their astounding speed, immense strength, and large size, they had no other remarkable traits. Zhang Jin had hunted these most frequently.

Cao Yun carefully searched the grasslands for signs of Spirit-Wolves. Here, he had to guard not only against beasts but also against other blood slaves. Without Zhang Jin’s refined fourth-level Qi cultivation, he had to be extremely cautious.

Time quietly passed; after half a day of fruitless searching, just as Cao Yun grew weary, a lone Spirit-Wolf appeared in his sight. It lay quietly on a lush meadow.

A surge of joy filled Cao Yun’s heart. Preparing to stealthily approach and strike it down with a thunderous blow, an icy, bone-chilling sense of danger suddenly gripped him, tightening his chest.

Without hesitation, he immediately activated the Wind Mastery Technique, transforming into a silver flash, darting away from the Spirit-Wolf’s direction.

Almost simultaneously, two spells tore through the air with incredible speed—a blazing fireball and a sharp wind blade—precisely striking the spot where he had just stood.

At that moment, Cao Yun found himself trapped between two burly men, one blocking ahead, the other behind.

He swiftly turned to face them, adopting a defensive stance to avoid being flanked.

“New blood slave, you’re quite alert. Hand over your blood storage pouch,” rasped the bald man on his left first.

This man stood over nine feet tall, carrying a beast-hide pouch on his back, his body seemingly coated in dark red sludge. A foul stench emanated from him; even several meters away, Cao Yun felt suffocated.

Facing this demonic giant, Cao Yun licked his dry lips. He knew well that the sludge was hardened blood, congealed into scabs from repeated bloodletting. It appeared as sludge now because he had just hunted a living creature—whether beast or man, Cao Yun could not say.