After his moment of enlightenment, Han Ye followed the hunting party as they prepared to return with their spoils. His mind was still sharp, his senses heightened from the precision of his shot. This was his first true hunt, and he had accomplished it cleanly.

  As he walked toward the stag’s carcass, he let his fingers trail along the antlers, admiring the sheer size and weight of them. A sense of pride filled him—this was his kill. His arrow had struck true, and the proof y before him.

  However, as his gaze drifted downward, he froze.

  Beneath the stag’s belly, carved deep into its flesh, was a strange, intricate symbol. It was neither a natural marking nor a hunter’s brand. The grooves were too clean, too deliberate, glowing faintly with an eerie hue that sent a strange shiver down his spine.

  What is this?

  Before he could think further, the other hunters gathered around, preparing to skin the beast. Han Ye shook off his unease. It’s just a mark. Probably nothing.

  Without hesitation, he picked up his knife and joined them in the process of skinning the animal. The scent of fresh blood filled the air as the hunters worked swiftly, stripping the pelt with practiced hands.

  But unlike the others, Han Zhe stood still. His eyes locked onto the strange symbol beneath the stag’s belly.

  And in that moment, Han Zhe’s face drained of color.

  A cold sweat formed on his brow, his muscles tensing as if he had seen something that should not exist.

  Then, suddenly, he shouted—his voice filled with urgency.

  "Don’t touch that antler!!”

  The sheer force of his voice made everyone freeze. Han Ye’s knife halted mid-slice. The other hunters looked up in confusion, startled by the sudden outburst.

  Before anyone could question him further, Han Zhe reached into his cloak and pulled out a talisman—a worn parchment with golden inscriptions pulsating faintly with power.

  The moment he activated it, fmes erupted from the paper. Sacred fire, unlike normal fmes, surged forth and engulfed the stag’s antlers. The heat was intense, consuming the bone and flesh instantly, leaving behind only a pile of fine ash.

  Silence fell over the group.

  The hunters were stunned, their expressions shifting from confusion to frustration. One of the men, his face red with anger, stepped forward.

  “Why did you burn that?!” he demanded.

  Another hunter growled in agreement. “That stag could have fed five families! You wasted a valuable kill!”

  Han Ye, still caught off guard, turned to his father, his voice uncertain.

  “Father… why did you do that? Why burn it to nothing?”

  Han Zhe’s gaze remained firm, his usual calm demeanor carrying a heavy weight.

  “I will expin everything once we return to the vilge. For now, we finish the hunt.”

  His tone left no room for argument.

  Despite their frustration, the other hunters had no choice but to continue. The forest did not wait for them, and hunger was still a concern.

  Han Ye, still confused, wanted to press further, but as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, his father hushed him with a sharp “Shhh.”

  Han Ye frowned but obeyed. His questions would have to wait.

  And soon, they had other things to focus on.

  The next hunt was even more bountiful than the first. They managed to take down another stag, three boars, and even a massive wild hare. The hunters, now distracted by their success, momentarily forgot about the mysterious fire that had devoured the first stag’s antlers.

  But Han Ye did not forget.

  By the time they returned to the vilge, the sky had darkened, and the air carried the cool bite of approaching night. The scent of freshly butchered meat and burning wood filled the settlement as preparations for the feast began.

  Han Zhe, however, wasted no time.

  He immediately called for a gathering, summoning the vilge’s elders and all the experienced hunters to discuss what had transpired during the hunt.

  Inside the central longhouse, the men gathered, their faces serious. They whispered amongst themselves, specuting on the reason for such an urgent meeting. Han Ye was not invited, but he did not mind.

  His mind was elsewhere.

  Instead of lingering around to eavesdrop, he returned to his own quarters and sat cross-legged on the wooden floor. The events of the day still swirled in his mind, but there was something more important he needed to focus on.

  Training.

  He took a deep breath and began refining his Qi.

  Cultivation was something he had approached with a methodical mindset, blending both the traditional methods he had learned here with the knowledge he still retained from his past life. While others simply gathered Qi blindly, letting it flow through their meridians like a river, Han Ye treated it differently.

  Qi is energy. Energy follows ws. And ws can be understood.

  Instead of simply absorbing the ambient Qi, he analyzed it—directing, compressing, refining. Instead of letting it disperse wastefully, he shaped it, creating efficiency beyond what most would even consider possible.

  He was workaholic by nature. Even after an exhausting hunt, his mind refused to rest.

  While the vilge elders discussed matters of supernatural significance, he cultivated.

  While the hunters prepared their meals, he cultivated.

  While the vilge prepared to sleep, he cultivated.

  And soon, he felt something shift.

  A breakthrough was close.

  He exhaled, a small wisp of Qi leaving his lips, swirling gently before dissipating. His control was improving. His efficiency was increasing.

  But even as he meditated, he could not shake the image of the strange mark on the stag’s belly.

  What had his father seen that made him react that way?

  And more importantly…

  Why did it feel like this was only the beginning?