Harvesting Beasts is my Talent

Chapter 5

​In the lore of hunters, wolves and dogs share a common weakness: "Copper head, iron bones, and a tofu-soft belly."

​The Ironback Dog was the evolution of that rule. As its name implied, its spine was as hard as tempered steel. To kill one, a standard disciple had to dodge its lunges and wait for its stamina to flag—at which point even a cautious novice could land a finishing blow.

​But Mo Fan didn't have time for a war of attrition.

​As the beast lunged, a dark blur in the undergrowth, Mo Fan didn't retreat. He narrowed his eyes and met the charge with a straight punch.

​BOOM!

​Channeling the crackling power of thunder, his fist collided with the dog's skull. The sound of shattering bone echoed through the trees as the Ironback was sent flying, its head caved in before it even hit the dirt.

​A clean, instant kill.

​"With the Thunder Attribute, I’m putting out over six thousand pounds of force," Mo Fan noted, shaking out his hand. "Against a Tier-1 Low-Grade beast, it's not even a contest."

​He drew his hunting knife, severing a foreleg as a trophy for his trial points. Then, he expertly bled the heart into a small vial. Even the blood of a low-level beast contained trace amounts of Yuan Qi that could bolster a warrior's strength.

​The day bled into evening.

​Mo Fan stood over the carcass of a Silver-Ringed Viper, a Tier-1 Mid-Grade threat. He wiped a spray of venomous blood from his cheek, slowing his racing heart. By now, he had seven kills to his name. Each battle had shaved away his hesitation, making his movements sharper and his aura more restrained.

​"It’s getting dark," he murmured, glancing at the canopy. "Time to find cover."

​The Wildlands at night belonged to the predators. Even seasoned hunter teams barricaded themselves once the sun dipped below the horizon. Though this zone was "safe," Mo Fan’s muscles were heavy with fatigue, and he had a haul of beast blood that needed processing.

​He retreated to a hollowed-out tree—formerly the den of a mutated squirrel he’d dispatched earlier—and set a series of tripwire traps at the entrance.

​Throughout the day, he’d seen several distress signals flare in the sky. Some students had clearly underestimated the "tame" wilderness. Whether the instructors reached them in time was a toss-up; in the Wild, death happened in seconds.

​"Only strength guarantees survival," he reminded himself.

​He uncorked his collection of heart-blood—about five servings' worth of concentrated essence. He took a measured swallow, feeling a surge of raw, hot energy boil in his stomach. Immediately, he dropped into his tempering stances.

​Outside, the forest roared with the sounds of the nocturnal hunt. Inside the tree, Mo Fan focused entirely on the fire in his veins.

​The next morning, Mo Fan awoke revitalized.

​The blood from the night before had added nearly a hundred pounds to his base strength. It was a small gain, but cumulative. Normally, a warrior’s body needed a month to "digest" the turbulent energy of beast blood to avoid a terminal Qi-revolt.

​However, digestion speed was tied to talent. With his Mid-Grade Physique and Thunder Talent, Mo Fan calculated his cooldown at just three days.

​"Ten doses a month," he mused. "That’s an extra thousand pounds of strength every thirty days just from supplements. No wonder the elite clans leave everyone else in the dust."

​He scarfed down a meal of roasted beast meat, warmed up with a set of postures, and headed deeper into the jungle. The periphery no longer challenged him. Today, he wanted to test himself against a Tier-1 High-Grade beast.

​He hadn't traveled far when the sound of a violent struggle reached him.

​He crept through the brush to a clearing where a warrior was locked in a desperate battle with a monster. The beast was a Berserk Giant Bear, a five-meter-tall mountain of fur and rage. Every swipe of its paws shattered ancient trees, forcing the student into a frantic, losing retreat.

​"A Berserk Bear..." Mo Fan recognized it instantly. But he wasn't looking at the bear’s claws. He was looking for its shadow.

​Academy records were clear: wherever a Berserk Bear dens, there is almost certainly a Yuanling Beehive nearby.

​The bees themselves were a nuisance, but their Yuanling Nectar was a miracle substance. It didn't just accelerate body tempering; it acted as a catalyst that could slash the digestion time of beast blood in half.

​"If I get that nectar, I can drink beast blood every day instead of every three," Mo Fan’s eyes flashed with greed. "I’m not letting this slip away."

​He tightened his grip on his blade and lunged into the clearing.

​Ruan Fe was panicking.

​He had been scouting the dense forest for manageable prey when he accidentally blundered into the territory of a Berserk Giant Bear. As a Tier-1 High-Grade beast, the bear possessed strength comparable to a Late-Stage Martial Disciple. Ruan Fe, having only recently reached the Mid-Stage with less than 4,000 lbs of force, was hopelessly outmatched.

​He had tried to flee, but the bear—convinced Ruan Fe was there to steal its precious Yuanling Nectar—was relentless.

​Ruan Fe was trapped. He could crush his Communication Talisman for rescue, but doing so would disqualify him from the trial and end his training. He hesitated, desperate to prove himself.

​Suddenly, a figure blurred through the undergrowth. Ruan Fe’s heart leaped with hope. "Classmate! Help me kill this bear! We'll split the Nectar fifty-fifty—"

​His voice died in his throat as he recognized the newcomer.

​Mo Fan?

​The "talentless waste"? Ruan Fe’s hope turned to bitter disappointment. Great, now two people are going to die.

​The momentary distraction was fatal. The Berserk Bear seized the opening, a massive paw whistling through the air. Ruan Fe couldn't dodge in time. The blow landed with a sickening crunch, caving in his chest and sending him spiraling backward. He hit the ground in a heap of broken limbs and didn't move again.

​Mo Fan’s brow furrowed as he took in the scene. "Vicious beast. You've had your fun—now it's my turn."

​