Day was just breaking when Lu Yuan had already walked ten li out of Maple Leaf Town.
The gray cloth sack on his back was small, but it weighed on his shoulders until they ached.
Inside were coarse mixed-grain flatbreads his mother had fried overnight, seventeen copper spirit coins his father had shoved into his hand, and that oil-paper-wrapped notebook.
nearby fog dispersed, leaving only wild grass on either side of the road.
A breeze blew past, carrying the raw, gamey stench of the wilderness.
He kept a steady pace, flipping through the map in his mind.
Reaching Nuoding City would take seven or eight days, and he had to cross Wild Rat Slope.
That place harbored Bristle-Rats—low-level spirit beasts that traveled in packs and feared bright light and pungent odors.
At noon, he gnawed on half a flatbread by the roadside.
The bread was hard, making his jaw ache as he chewed.
Spirit power circulated within his body along the few meridians he had barely managed to open.
Rank 0.5 was far too weak.
If he ran into a spirit beast, he would have to rely on other means.
By late afternoon, the road narrowed.
The dirt slopes grew steeper, covered in waist-high mugmert grass.
The wind whistled mournfully, and beneath the grass, it sounded as if something was burrowing.
He had reached Wild Rat Slope.
Lu Yuan’s eyes scanned the area.
Thirty paces to his front-left stood a cliff of pale gray rock.
At the foot of the cliff grew several clumps of Rat-Repellent Herb, their leaves gray-green and emitting a pungent, nose-stinging odor.
He quickened his steps.
Halfway there, the grass to his right rustled wildly.
It wasn’t the wind.
Seven or eight gray shadows leaped out.
They were the size of domestic cats, their stiff fur bristling, their small eyes blood-red.
Bristle-Rats.
The lead rat was extraordinarily burly, its front teeth jutting outward and dripping with saliva.
The pack spread into a semicircle, blocking his path.
Lu Yuan’s expression didn’t change as he continued toward the cliff face.
Ten paces left.
The lead rat kicked off with its hind legs and charged straight at him!
The others followed, turning into seven or eight gray blurs that moved at shocking speed.
Now.
Lu Yuan swerved violently, lunging toward the Rat-Repellent Herb.
All the spirit power in his body surged into his right palm—not for an attack, but for “vibration.” Replicating a technique from his memory, he made his spirit power vibrate at a high frequency and slammed his palm heavily onto the cluster of leaves!
Pfft!
A cloud of spicy, pungent odor burst forth, fanning outward.
The lead rats immediately froze in place, shaking their heads frantically.
Lu Yuan took advantage of the moment to sprint to the base of the cliff, pressing his back against the rock.
The afternoon sun shone obliquely on the pale gray surface.
He crouched down, grabbed a piece of limestone with a sharp edge, forced his last scrap of spirit power to his fingertips, aimed at a smooth hollow on the rock face, and flicked his wrist— The stone scraped across the rock, producing an ear-splitting screech.
At the same time, adjusted to the perfect angle, the reflected sunlight struck the lead rat squarely in the face.
A blinding spot of light flashed.
The beast was already dizzy from the smell.
With the sudden glare blinding its eyes, it let out a shrill scream, turned, and bolted.
Fearing light and overwhelmed by the pungent stench, the pack broke into chaos upon seeing their leader flee, squeaking loudly as they scurried back into the high grass.
Within a few breaths, nothing remained on the slope except chaotic paw prints and the lingering pungent odor.
Lu Yuan leaned his back against the cliff face and exhaled a long breath of turbid air.
His palms were soaked with sweat, his spirit power was completely exhausted, and his temples throbbed with pain.
He cracked a smile.
It worked.
He didn’t rush to leave.
Waiting a moment to confirm the pack had retreated far enough, he walked over to where the rats had gathered, crouching down to inspect the ground closely.
A patch of grass had been trampled flat.
Parting the roots, his eyes lit up.
A few stiff, gray-brown hairs were buried halfway in the dirt, their tips glistening with a faint metallic luster.
He carefully picked one up and placed it in his palm.
It was two inches long, thicker than a sewing needle, and cold to the touch.
He channeled his last thread of spirit power to touch the tip of the hair gently.
Buzz…
A faint fluctuation of spirit power transmitted back—rough and chaotic.
It was completely different from the gentle, enduring nature of plant-system spirit power, far more violent and primitive.
“Bristle-Rat shed fur,” Lu Yuan whispered.
“Unstable energy structure.
It can serve as a comparative sample.” He pulled a small bamboo cylinder from his pack—taken from beside his family’s stove, where it had originally held salt.
He carefully placed the stiff hairs inside and hammered the wooden plug tight.
His first wilderness sample.
He looked back toward the west.
The path he had come from was hidden behind the hills, Maple Leaf Town long out of sight.
A streak of pale cloud hung at the edge of the sky, painted light gold by the setting sun.
The sleeves of the clothes his mother had sewn were uneven in length.
The copper spirit coins his father had given him dug into his shoulder.
He had chosen this path himself.
He stowed the bamboo tube and shouldered his pack.
The road ahead was long; Wild Rat Slope was merely the first hurdle.
Before dark, he needed to find a place to spend the night, preferably near a water source.
He set off eastward once more.
His shadow stretched long behind him, cast straight across the wild grass slope—small, yet unbending.
The cliff face and Rat-Repellent Herb were left far behind.
The wind blew again, carrying the dampness of a distant river and a faint, sickly sweet musk resembling an animal’s den.
Lu Yuan’s nostrils twitched, and his footsteps halted.
His gaze swept across the grass by the roadside.
In several places, the crushed leaves showed unnatural marks—not caused by the wind, but flattened as if repeatedly trodden upon.
Something frequented this path.
Crouching down, he pinched a bit of soil between his fingers and brought it to his nose.
The sweet musk was more pronounced here, mixed with the sour stench of feces.
It wasn’t a Bristle-Rat; a Bristle-Rat’s den smelled much drier.
In his memory, the pages of his mental encyclopedia flipped.
Prefers moisture, sweet musk, nest near water, fixed movement path…
An Iron-Claw Badger?
Quite possible.
Solitary, fiercely territorial, accustomed to taking a fixed route to drink water.
An adult was considered a troublesome ten-year spirit beast—possessing sharp front claws capable of shattering rock, and extremely vengeful.
He looked up at the sky.
The sun was leaning west; it would be pitch-black in an hour at most.
The terrain ahead dipped low, and in the distance, a silver ribbon of water shimmered—likely the Wild Rat River.
The Iron-Claw Badger’s den was very likely in the dirt banks along the river.
If it went to drink at dusk, this path…
He cupped an ear to listen.
Aside from the rustling of grass in the wind, there was no other sound.
He couldn’t keep going straight.
Lu Yuan took a few steps back, left the path, and ducked into the mugmert grass on the right.
The grass was deep and made walking arduous, but it allowed him to avoid the beast trail that might have been marked.
He tried to step on dense grass roots to leave fewer tracks.
After walking half a li, the mugmert grass thinned, and a rocky beach appeared ahead.
The stones varied in size, smoothed round by rainwater, with ground-hugging moss growing in the crevices.
This place should be safe.
A rocky beach didn’t easily retain scent or footprints, nor was it the environment an Iron-Claw Badger preferred.
Finding a wind-sheltered hollow between several large boulders, he set down his pack.
His spirit power hadn’t recovered, and he felt exhausted and weak.
He pulled out the remaining half of the flatbread and swallowed it down slowly with cold water from his skin.
By the time he finished eating, night had fallen completely.
Stars emerged one by one, far more numerous and brighter than those seen in Maple Leaf Town.
The Milky Way hung obliquely across the zenith like a hazy mist of light.
Lu Yuan rested against a boulder, looking up at the starry sky.
The night wind in the wilderness was cool, scraping across his face like fine sand.
From afar came the chirping of unknown insects, rising and falling.
Only now did a true sense of solitude surge up, pressing heavily on his chest.
There was no mother nagging him, no father quietly keeping him company, nor the experimental plot enclosed by broken tiles in the back courtyard.
There was only himself, and this unfamiliar wilderness hiding all kinds of spirit beasts.
He took a deep breath of ice-cold air, suppressing his emotions.
Pulling his experimental notebook from his pack, he opened the cover under the faint starlight.
The Blue Silver Grass bookmark lay quietly between the pages, its leaf glowing with an extremely faint, almost imperceptible luminescence in the dark.
His fingertips brushed over the bookmark as he turned to a blank page.
Biting his index finger, he used the oozing blood to quickly sketch on the paper.
Not writing, but drawing.
A simple map: the cliff face, the Rat-Repellent Herb, the Bristle-Rat route, the angle of reflected sunlight.
Beside it, he annotated: *Bristle-Rat hair sample collected.
Energy texture is rough; inferred to be related to Earth-attribute spirit power affinity.* When he finished drawing, he tore out the page, folded it carefully, and stuffed it into his inner pocket.
He closed the notebook and rewrapped it in the oil paper.
Knowledge must be recorded.
This was his way of communicating with the world.
The night deepened.
The insect chirps grew sparse, and the wind died down.
The rocky beach sank into darkness, leaving only the faint sound of flowing river water in the distance.
Lu Yuan clutched his pack and curled up in the hollow between the rocks, closing his eyes.
He didn’t dare sleep deeply, keeping his ears alert to capture any sound in the surroundings.
Yet, uncontrollably, his mind began planning for tomorrow.
*Set off before dawn to avoid the peak hours of morning and evening wild beast activity.
Follow the river downstream; half a day should get me out of Wild Rat Slope.
And then…* *And then it’s toward Nuoding City.
That city has a Spirit Master academy, a library, more knowledge waiting to be verified, and people or events that might be far more troublesome than Zhao Shi and Qian Xiaohao.* *But I have to go.* He squeezed the blood-stained page in his pocket, feeling its rough texture against his fingertips.
Drowsiness crept over him like cold river water, gradually submerging his consciousness.
Before sinking completely into darkness, his final thought was: *Sample acquired.
Path chosen correctly.*