Shenli’s voice slithered through his consciousness, smooth and dark. “Ah, little cultivator, did you miscalculate?”

  Tao ignored him, his own struggle making it impossible to respond. He could feel his own breakthrough approaching, his meridians expanding, his dantian deepening. But Jian was not stabilizing.

  Then finally, he felt something loosen then give way…

  His vision sharpened. The air around him felt different, as if he could sense the breath of the plants, the pulse of the earth itself.

  The fifth layer.

  But the Qi was still surging. If he absorbed more, he would be pushed past his limit. He clenched his fist around the stem of the Serpent’s Veil Lily and let go. The remains of the flower fell towards the ground, withering as it descended. His breathing slowed. His Qi stilled. He had succeeded.

  Then he heard Jian’s ragged breathing.

  Jian was still struggling. The heat rolling off him was unbearable, his Molten Flame still flickering wildly, threatening to consume him. Tao’s jaw tightened. If Jian lost control now, his Qi would ignite, and his body would turn to ash.

  “Drain it,” Shenli murmured. “Before he becomes nothing but a cautionary tale.”

  Tao moved on instinct.

  He surged forward, pressing a hand to Jian’s back, activating the Fertile Spirit Nurturing Art once more. But this time, he didn’t use it on himself, he directed it outward, into the clearing.

  A ripple spread through the air. The excess Qi, no longer trapped within Jian, spilled into the surroundings. The grass wilted at first, unable to withstand the force, but then it surged back to life. The soil darkened, enriched. Wildflowers bloomed in the dead earth. Grass surged upward, flickering through the seasons as if time itself bent to the sudden rush of energy.

  Jian gasped, his whole body locking up. The last of the excess energy drained away, seeping into the earth, and finally, his flame steadied. It no longer writhed with chaotic fury. It burned hot, but stable, condensed into something pure and controlled.

  The grove was silent.

  The heat of the afternoon still lingered, but the air felt different now, charged with residual Qi, thick and lingering like the aftershock of a passing storm.

  Tao lay on his back, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, his body drained of all strength. His limbs felt like lead; his meridians stretched past their limit. The impurities expelled from his body clung to his skin in thick, rancid layers, a testament to the violent transformation he had just endured. His bones ached, his dantian hummed with a new depth of energy, but most of all, he was alive.

  Beside him, Jian let out a slow, shuddering breath, staring blankly at the sky. His entire body trembled as if his muscles had forgotten how to work. His clothes, damp with sweat, clung to him like a second skin. The Molten Flame flickered weakly above his palm before sputtering out. Even the fire had exhausted itself.

  Neither of them spoke for a long while.

  Then, with great effort, Jian let out a hoarse laugh. “That,” he rasped, “was the worst idea we have ever had.”

  Tao turned his head slightly, his lips curling despite himself. “Agreed.”

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  Jian groaned, rolling onto his side. His entire body ached; his meridians still raw from the violent breakthrough. He flexed his fingers, summoning his flame again. This time, it came easier. It burned steady and strong, the chaotic surges from before now tempered into something refined.

  Tao watched him, his own fingers tightening slightly. His Qi flowed differently now, moving like a steady stream rather than a raging river. His connection to the world around him had deepened.

  Jian exhaled, dropping his flame. “We almost died.”

  Tao nodded, staring up at the sky. “We did.”

  Jian let out a humourless chuckle, rubbing a hand down his face. “Still. It worked.”

  Tao turned his gaze toward him, his voice quiet but firm. “Barely.”

  Jian smirked. “Still counts.”

  Silence settled between them again, but this time, it was different. Not heavy with exhaustion, but with thought. With realization.

  Jian lifted a hand and ran it through the dirt beside him, feeling the warmth still lingering from the expelled energy. “You felt it, didn’t you?”

  Tao turned his head slightly. “Felt what?”

  Jian frowned, as if struggling to find the right words. “The power. The sheer… force of it. When I broke through, it felt like my body was being forged into something new. It was painful, terrifying, but at the same time…” He clenched his hand into a fist. “I have never felt more alive.”

  Tao didn’t respond right away. He understood. He had felt it too. That moment of raw, uncontrollable power. The sensation of stepping beyond what they had once been. It had been exhilarating. But it had also been a warning.

  Every step toward power was taken on the edge of a blade

  His gaze flickered toward Jian, whose face still carried traces of reckless excitement. “You enjoyed it too much.”

  Jian scoffed. “Of course I did. We did this. Not the sect. Not some elder’s teachings. We took our own path, and we survived.” He smirked, tilting his head toward Tao. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same.”

  Tao was silent.

  Because the truth was, he did.

  A rustling sound broke the moment.

  Jian stiffened, his eyes flicking toward the trees. Tao sat up slowly, his muscles protesting. The sun had started to dip lower, casting longer shadows across the grove, but the air still felt thick with the residue of their breakthrough.

  And something was moving in the darkness beyond.

  Tao’s expression darkened. “They can sense it.”

  Jian swore under his breath, pushing himself upright. His body screamed in protest, but the tension in the air left no room for rest.

  The Wilds were never silent for long.

  A low, guttural growl rumbled from the undergrowth.

  Then another.

  Tao and Jian exchanged a look.

  A heavy footstep crushed dried leaves somewhere to their left. Then, a sharp chittering noise echoed from the treetops. Multiple presences. Stalking. Waiting.

  Jian’s grip tightened around his sword. “How many?”

  Tao's sharpened senses caught the subtle shifts in the undergrowth, the flicker of movement in the shadows. Three figures at first. No, five. Their presence slithered through the air, drawn by the lingering Qi like predators scenting wounded prey.

  A flash of red eyes.

  “Too many,” Tao muttered. “We need to leave.”

  Jian didn’t argue. His limbs still felt heavy, but there was no time to hesitate. They had no idea what kinds of creatures lurked in this part of the Outer Wilds, but anything drawn to Qi of this magnitude would not be weak.

  Tao reached into his storage ring, fingers brushing against the jade slips they had taken. Their power had grown. But right now, it wasn’t enough.

  Branches cracked as something lunged from the undergrowth.

  Jian moved first, his blade flashing, but his footing was unsteady, the aftereffects of his breakthrough still weighing him down. Tao yanked him back, their bodies narrowly avoiding a blur of movement that crashed into the spot where they had just been.

  A massive, clawed limb slammed into the earth, splintering wood and stone.

  Jian cursed; his breath ragged. “I am not in the mood for this.”

  Tao grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “Run.”

  Jian didn’t need to be told twice.

  They turned, pushing their exhausted bodies into motion. The forest roared behind them, filled with the sounds of snapping branches and guttural growls.

  Their breakthrough had made them stronger.

  But it had also made them prey.