Lin Hao tossed Zhao Linger’s warning note into a chamber pot. The Basic Arcana Primer lay open on her bed, pages fluttering as wind sigils swirled around his fingers.

  "Stormrend," he murmured.

  A miniature tornado materialized above his palm, shredding a silk pillow into snow. Across the room, Kung Fu Fly dodged flying feathers, wings humming approval.

  ———

  Dawn painted the smithy’s soot-stained walls when Lin Hao arrived. The dwarf smith froze mid-hammer, eyes widening at the Flame-Scaled Tiger parked outside.

  "Your… master’s armor." He thrust forward a mesh of silver threads so fine they seemed liquid. "Twenty gravity sigils. Don’t blame me when it snaps your spine."

  Lin Hao shrugged on the Gravity Silver. Coolness kissed his skin—then vanished as he activated five sigils.

  Crunch.

  His knees buckled under phantom mountains. The dwarf snorted. "Fivefold’s child’s play. Try ten."

  Lin Hao grinned. Ten sigils flared.

  Boom.

  He faceplanted into anvil soot. The dwarf’s laughter shook dangling tongs. "Dead man walking!"

  "Worth it." Lin Hao wheezed, crawling upright. Threefold gravity settled over him like a lover’s embrace.

  ———

  The streets erupted as he rode out. Peasants fled screaming; merchants overturned spice carts. Kung Fu Fly circled overhead, wings etching Blind Dragon in shadow-runes on every shop awning.

  "Look! The cripple rides a demon!"

  "Zhao Clan’s leper son-in-law!"

  Lin Hao leaned low over the tiger’s neck. "Burn them."

  The beast obliged. Fiery breath licked a fruit stand, roasting melons to ash. Screams turned to whimpers.

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  "Better."

  ———

  Beyond the city gates, autumn winds carried Zhao Linger’s jasmine scent. Lin Hao sniffed the air. Three days ahead.

  He activated five more gravity sigils. Bones creaked. Muscles screamed. The tiger’s pace slowed to a crawl.

  "Master?" Ant-Man crawled from his collar.

  "Training," Lin Hao gritted. Blood vessels burst in his eyes, turning milky irises crimson. "Pain is power."

  Kung Fu Fly landed on his shoulder, wings glowing with stored moonlight. Three hundred miles to Tianyan Academy. Three hundred miles to become a god—or a corpse.

  The road drank his sweat. The tiger drank his doubts. Somewhere ahead, a storm waited.

  Lin Hao smiled. Storms bowed to dragons.

  The Mountain of Beasts

  The Flame-Scaled Tiger’s claws shredded centuries-old leaves as Lin Hao crossed into the primordial forest. Moonlight died at the canopy’s edge, replaced by the phosphorescent glow of venomous fungi.

  "Home sweet hell," Lin Hao murmured, patting the tiger’s neck. Kung Fu Fly scouted ahead, mapping thermal signatures—three wolves stalking a wounded elk, a serpent coiled around a lightning-struck oak.

  ———

  Firelight carved a fragile sanctuary in the dark. Lin Hao rotated a Spineback Rabbit skewered on the Broken Dragon Sword. Dripping fat hissed into flames.

  "Still no taste for cooked meat?" He tossed a charred scrap to Ant-Man. The insectoid ignored it, mandibles clicking as it disassembled a pebble.

  A twig snapped.

  Lin Hao froze. The tiger’s hackles rose.

  Twang.

  The poisoned arrow shattered against his Gravity Silver chestplate before Kung Fu Fly’s wings blurred into motion.

  "Show yourselves!" Lin Hao barked. Two more arrows streaked from the blackness—decapitated mid-flight by the fly’s shadow-blades.

  "Fire Sigil: Scorch!"

  His palm erupted in crimson light. The fireball obliterated a gnarled cedar, exposing two scrambling figures.

  "Mercy, my lord!" The scarred bandit flung down his crossbow. His accomplice—rat-faced and trembling—dropped a black-draped cage. "We meant no harm!"

  Lin Hao kicked the cage. The cloth slipped, revealing a creature with scales like liquid moonlight and eyes like dying stars.

  "A Moonscale Lynx cub?" His breath caught. "You trapped a spirit beast?"

  The scarred man lunged. A smoke bomb exploded, flooding the clearing with acrid fog.

  "Kill."

  The Flame-Scaled Tiger lunged, jaws agape in a thunderous roar. Bone crunched. Blood misted the haze.

  When the smoke cleared, the rat-faced bandit lay bisected. His leader dangled from Kung Fu Fly’s web—skin sloughing off in necrotic chunks.

  "Talk," Lin Hao said, pressing the Broken Dragon Sword to the dying man’s throat. "Who sent you?"

  "Tianyan… scouts…" The bandit gurgled. "Eliminate… competition…"

  His head rolled before the sentence finished.

  ———

  Lin Hao pried open the cage. The lynx cub hissed, its claws passing harmlessly through his spectral armor.

  "Easy, little godling." He dripped rabbit blood onto its tongue. "You’ll dine on empires soon enough."

  Ant-Man scuttled onto his shoulder, antennae twitching. Thermal scans showed three hundred humanoid heat signatures converging—armored, mounted, bearing the Tianyan Academy crest.

  "Seems we’ve drawn flies." Lin Hao mounted the tiger. The lynx cub curled in his lap, purring like a forge bellows.

  Kung Fu Fly’s wings hummed a war chant. Somewhere in the dark, Wolf Spider spun death between ancient oaks.

  The hunt began.