Chapter 46: Drinking Tiger’s Blood with Gusto

In the darkness, a pack of wild beasts surged from the mountain forests, their shapes looming and indistinct—altogether, there were no fewer than several dozen. Fang Yue lifted his gaze toward the small hill at the village entrance, but the distance was too great to see clearly. Beneath the moonlight, he could only make out a vague, shadowy figure standing proudly atop the slope.

Fang Yue knew that this was the true adversary of the night—the mountain demon he had glimpsed with his divine sight. He did not know what powers it possessed, yet it could command so many beasts, driving them over several mountain ridges to attack him from the forests behind the village.

Such a multitude of wild beasts presented a formidable challenge, even for Fang Yue in his current state. A single misstep could spell disaster. Yet he remained unfazed. Mere animals were not enough to make him retreat. Tonight, these beasts were destined to become his whetstone.

Gripping his long blade, Fang Yue strode toward a wolf whose eyes glinted with a ghostly light, easy to pick out even in the gloom. The battle erupted in an instant; death came swiftly. In the blink of an eye, two more wolves fell beneath Fang Yue’s blade, their bodies rent asunder, their blood spraying as Fang Yue became half-drenched in crimson.

The thunder of hooves echoed as a massive black shadow charged directly toward Fang Yue’s courtyard, shaking the earth with its approach. It was a wild boar, its snout sharp, tusks menacing, coarse gray-black bristles covering its hulking frame. Weighing several hundred pounds, it was a terror of the forest—few beasts dared challenge its reckless charge.

Fang Yue was forced to yield momentarily, his internal energy surging as he leapt like a raptor, soaring several yards and landing lightly behind the boar. Unable to halt, the beast slammed headlong into the stone wall of the house, making the structure tremble.

Fang Yue showed no mercy. He brought his blade down on the boar’s haunch, cleaving off half its hindquarters in a spray of blood. With a thunderous cry, the boar collapsed, denied even a second attack.

Wolves lunged from the darkness once more. Hidden among them, two leopards—silent and unknown, their arrival unnoticed—joined the assault. Agile and cunning, the leopards had climbed to the roof, leaping down from above.

Fang Yue split a wolf with one stroke, then rolled aside to evade a leopard, flicking his blade upward to disembowel the other as it pounced from the rooftop.

…
Time slipped by—how long, Fang Yue could not say. The moon had drifted westward in the sky. Blood-soaked, blade in hand, Fang Yue stood proud and unyielding. The blood on him was both his own and that of the beasts, though mostly the latter. His entire form was stained red; in the darkness, no one could see, but it was a sight that would have inspired terror.

The ground was littered with the corpses of wild beasts. None had retreated; each had fought Fang Yue to the death, until not a single one remained alive. To slay dozens of mountain beasts had not come without cost. His left shoulder was a mangled mess, clawed by a wolf in the chaos. On his right hand, the one that gripped the blade, and on his neck, were three snakebites—venomous wounds inflicted by snakes small enough to hide in the night, nearly impossible to guard against in the heat of battle.

Fortunately, Fang Yue now possessed inner energy; as soon as he sensed he had been bitten, he forced the venom out of the wounds with his energy, narrowly averting death by poison.

His gravest injury, however, was on his back, where a tiger’s paw had struck him. In the forests, the tiger is king. A full-forced swipe from an old tiger carries the weight of a thousand pounds. Even with Fang Yue’s skill in dissipating force and his inner energy as a shield, he was still badly hurt.

The human body, in the end, is fragile.

Of course, the tiger had fared no better; it too now lay dead among the others.

Fang Yue felt exhausted. The relentless combat had drained his strength, yet he knew the true battle had not begun. The presence lurking in the darkness, the one that commanded the beasts, was the night’s most terrifying foe.

He glanced at the tiger carcass, blood still seeping from its wounds, then crouched and pressed his mouth to the gash, drinking deeply of the hot blood. The scalding liquid surged to his belly, his formidable digestion transforming it into energy and vitality, swiftly replenishing what the fight had taken from him.

“Exhilarating.”

When the tiger’s blood was spent, Fang Yue stood, finally satisfied. He felt his strength restored—the tiger’s blood was indeed a powerful tonic.

“It hasn’t appeared. Did it leave, or is it lying in wait, hoping to strike when I relax?”

Fang Yue was puzzled. The unknown adversary, which had driven the beasts against him, had not revealed itself. Clearly, the moment after he had exhausted himself fighting the animals was the perfect time for an ambush.

Still, Fang Yue did not allow his vigilance to waver. He remained alert, remembering the distant, piercing howl that had echoed from the hilltop earlier—a sound that had left a deep impression.

He decided to take stock of his gains from the recent battle. Aside from the heap of animal corpses—whose meat and pelts could fetch a price—there were also merit points.

For every beast slain—even each venomous snake—he earned merit points, the only difference being the quantity awarded.

This night’s harvest was bountiful.

“If killing tigers, leopards, and wolves—all carnivores—earns me merit, that stands to reason. But that wild boars, wild cattle, and other grazers also grant merit points is odd. Eating meat is the nature of tigers, leopards, and wolves, just as eating grass is the nature of boars, cattle, and wild goats. So the reason can’t lie there. Most likely, because they attacked me, and by killing them I saved myself—perhaps even others—I’m awarded merit.”

Fang Yue mulled this over. It was something he could test in the future.

He turned his focus inward, directing his mind to the merit system within his consciousness.

Fang Yue—

Merit: 728 points
Divine Abilities: Deduction, Insight
Martial Arts: Enlightenment Fist (Second Level)

His merit had reached 728 points—just a few hundred more and he could deduce the next level of the Enlightenment Fist. However, his understanding of martial arts was not yet sufficient to support advancing to the third level; he needed to study more manuals and experience more battles to broaden his knowledge.

“Tonight’s fight has granted me many insights into swordsmanship. Now that I have enough merit, I should deduce a basic blade technique to consolidate these new understandings.”

With this thought, Fang Yue immediately used his merit points to drive the divine ability of Deduction, focusing on blade techniques.

In the distance, voices arose. Someone was approaching Fang Yue’s small courtyard, carrying torches. The clash between Fang Yue and the beasts had been thunderous; the villagers were not deaf—how could they not have heard? Yet Fang Yue had sent word ahead, so everyone knew what was happening. No one dared come out to watch in such a dangerous situation.

Instead, they had locked their doors and waited anxiously for the outcome.

Only after midnight, when the sounds of battle finally ceased, did the villagers endure another half hour of tense silence before the bravest among them dared open their doors. Armed with fish spears, hoes, and other tools, they crept out to investigate.

As voices rose outside, more villagers gathered. By the time Fang Yue saw them, there were two or three dozen, most of them armed for protection.

They were all adult men, save for one woman—Madam Li—who had joined them.

And as they approached, they dragged someone along in ropes.

Fang Yue looked closely; the bound man was Deng Yurong.