Reconnaissance, Part 2
A month had already passed since Dang Sobaek returned from his journey to the southern wetlands.
It wasn't just the spiritual beasts that had vanished.
The spiritual herbs that had once been a common sight, as well as any useful poisonous plants, had been completely swept away. It was closer to a wholesale plundering of the entire island.
Dang Sobaek found this difficult to comprehend.
If their true purpose was to manage the island for a periodic 'harvest,' surely it made more sense to preserve an environment where the spiritual beasts could actually grow and thrive?
In any case, the immediate issue was that finding prey had become exceptionally difficult.
A Jimjo's physical growth relied on hunting and devouring other spiritual beasts or venomous creatures. Ordinary beasts were insufficient; they merely staved off hunger to survive another day. What they truly required was spiritual flesh.
This was no different for Dang Sobaek.
While he could accumulate qi by practicing the Mandok-gwigong, replenishing his poison was a far more difficult task.
Even under normal circumstances, Sobaek's physical frame was significantly smaller than those of Jim-i and Jim-sam.
While Jim-i and Jim-sam were already the size of young fawns, Sobaek was barely larger than a small puppy. Even now, he had to crane his neck just to look up at them.
If he failed to secure adequate nourishment during this critical growth phase...
'How wretched.'
He might be doomed to spend the rest of his life trapped in this stunted form.
It was not merely a matter of aesthetics,
nor was it a simple grievance of wounded pride.
The issue ran far deeper.
The raw physical power generated by sheer mass could not be ignored. The physical vessel was the very foundation required to contain and manifest internal energy.
If internal energy was the artisan that carved and refined iron, then the physical body was the raw iron itself.
Even cheap scrap iron could be honed into a sharp blade if the craftsman was skilled enough. But what if the starting material was Myriad-Year Cold Iron?
It would not be a mere common sword, but a legendary blade destined to be remembered for generations.
In other words, even when channeling the exact same amount of internal energy, the resulting amplification would be on an entirely different level.
And so, Sobaek could only let out a heavy sigh.
Just then, Jim-i returned from the river estuary, carrying a few fish she had caught. They were entirely ordinary creatures, possessing no spiritual value.
“Chirp!”
Oblivious to his worries, Jim-i beamed happily and offered the flopping fish to Sobaek.
'Hmm...'
The taste was decent enough.
But this state of affairs could not continue.
Without physical growth, there would be no future.
If he failed to escape this island, Sobaek would inevitably meet the same tragic end as Mother Jimjo.
Sobaek quickly sated his hunger and stepped out of the cave. Jim-i scrambled to follow him.
The landscape outside still bore the stark scars of devastation, yet nature was slowly reclaiming its domain.
The carcasses of the slaughtered beasts had decayed over the weeks, melting into the earth to nourish the soil, and fresh green sprouts were beginning to push through.
Among the new growth, Sobaek spotted sprouts of Red Pine Ginseng and Black Death Grass, but they would require at least a century to mature. Consuming them now would yield absolutely no benefit.
Sobaek paused his flight, landing on a sturdy branch alongside Jim-i as he sank into contemplation.
'Must I finally venture there?'
There was a certain location he had been keeping in mind.
Past the northern forest of the Jimjo's territory, right where the highlands began, stood a mountain shrouded in a thick, mist-like blanket of ghostly energy.
In the Central Plains, such a place would be called the Underworld Mountain, or the Ghost Cloud Valley.
It was the sole region on the island that appeared to have escaped the harvesters' reach.
However, its safety was far from guaranteed.
Ghostly energy was a manifestation of lingering malice—a dense accumulation of negative emotions, grudges, and unfulfilled desires left behind by the deceased.
To withstand such energy, one had to possess a Buddhist cultivation like the Immovable Mind Art, which specialized in exorcising evil, or a Daoist technique like the Spiritless Mind Law. Barring those, one would have to practice a demonic cultivation method to remain unaffected.
What, then, of the Sichuan Tang Clan?
Despite being recognized as an orthodox sect, the Tang Clan's arts actually leaned closer to the latter.
The ultimate secret art passed down solely to the clan leader, the Mandok-gwigong, already contained the character for 'ghost' within its name, inherently incorporating ghostly energy into its foundation.
However, the internal energy Sobaek currently possessed was a mere speck of dust. If the concentration of ghostly energy shrouding the mountain was too dense, even he would be unable to withstand it.
'In the worst-case scenario...'
He would lose his sanity and become a mindless, slaughter-happy madman. No, a mad bird.
A mad bird.
It was not a future he particularly cared to envision.
As Sobaek shuddered slightly, Jim-i nudged him with her wing and puffed out her chest in a reassuring gesture.
She was telling him to rely on her, proudly reminding him that she was the one who had secured their meal today.
She then lowered her head, nudging it toward him.
Sobaek found her antics absurd, but her loyalty was endearing nonetheless, so he gently stroked her head with his wing.
“Chirp! Chirp! Hehe—”
Only then did Jim-i look satisfied, playfully nudging Sobaek's side with her wing, begging for more affection.
'She's already as big as a house, yet...'
...she still behaved like a coddled chick.
Sobaek humored her for a brief moment before spreading his wings and taking flight once more. Jim-i immediately soared up after him.
As they left the Jimjo's territory and approached the highlands, the temperature plummeted sharply.
Before they knew it,
Pitter-patter!
Sleet began to pelt down around them.
The air grew bitterly cold.
The distant landscape was a vast, pristine snowfield.
Winter had arrived in the span of a single month.
'This island is truly unfit for human habitation.'
Yet, life still clung to this harsh environment.
Perhaps because the harvesters had paid less attention to this region compared to the Jimjo's territory or the southern wetlands, they occasionally spotted snow leopards or troops of red-furred monkeys.
However, none of them possessed enough spiritual energy to be classified as true spiritual beasts.
Fortunately, as a spiritual beast, the cold did not bother Sobaek. It was a remarkably convenient body.
Fascinated by her very first sight of snow, Jim-i dove toward the ground and began rolling around, burying herself in the drifts.
“Chirp! Chirp, chirp!”
She flapped her wings excitedly, kicking up flurries of snow as if begging him to watch.
Sobaek watched her for a brief moment before turning his gaze away.
They still had a considerable distance to fly before reaching the Ghost Cloud Valley.
When Sobaek failed to show interest, Jim-i's excitement quickly waned. She flew back up to his side, then pointed her wing toward a specific direction.
“Chirp!”
Over there...
'? '
A plume of white steam was rising into the cold air.
“Chirp?”
Sobaek let out an involuntary chirp in his sheer surprise. Belatedly clearing his throat, he fell into deep thought.
He certainly hadn't seen this during his previous survey.
'Steam in a place like this...'
'Could there be a spiritual beast capable of wielding fire?'
'No, that is unlikely.'
Even if a beast awakened its spiritual intelligence, he had never seen one actively utilize fire. Even Mother Jimjo had not done so.
Their cognitive capacity was simply too limited for such complex concepts.
Speculating from afar would yield no answers.
The only way to know for sure was to investigate.
The western region of the island consisted of vast highlands.
For a winged creature, it took roughly two double-hours of flight from the Jimjo's territory to reach this place.
Even taking its high altitude into account, the climate here was exceptionally volatile, rapidly fluctuating between a cool autumn and a freezing winter.
It was a stark contrast to the relatively stable climate of the Jimjo's territory.
Among cultivators, such a phenomenon was attributed to the presence of a spiritual vein.
The volatile climate of the highlands was caused by an overabundance of yin-cold elemental energy. Consequently, only a very limited variety of beasts could survive in this harsh environment.
Insects could not survive here, and the same was true for cold-blooded creatures like amphibians and reptiles.
Yet, as was the case anywhere in nature, living creatures adapted and evolved to suit their surroundings.
The red-furred monkeys that dominated these highlands were prime examples of such adaptation.
As was typical of their kind,
they lived in highly structured troops. Recently, one of these red-furred monkeys had succeeded in awakening its spiritual nature for the first time.
It had transcended its status as a mere beast to become a spiritual beast.
Immediately upon its evolution,
it had dethroned the previous leader and seized control, completely upending the troop's hierarchy.
This was highly unusual.
Typically, the existing leader of a troop would be the first to evolve, given their superior physical traits.
This anomaly had occurred because this particular monkey had discovered a hidden hot spring connected directly to a tributary of the spiritual vein deep underground.
While the former leader had slowly accumulated power by breathing in the sparse spiritual energy scattered across the mountain, this monkey had spent every night absorbing the highly concentrated energy leaking directly from the vein. The difference in efficiency was night and day.
Now the undisputed leader, the monkey was leisurely soaking in the hot spring, his subordinates standing guard before him.
Just then,
“Screech, ook-ook!”
a subordinate covered in snow approached, presenting several mysterious, ice-like fruits to the leader.
The subordinate's body was covered in fresh wounds, suggesting it had braved treacherous terrain to secure the offering.
Yet, the leader merely waved a dismissive hand without a single grunt of praise, signaling the subordinate to get out of his sight.
The subordinate lingered, looking back wistfully. The previous leader would have shared at least half of the bounty.
This hesitation apparently displeased the new tyrant.
With a flick of the leader's finger, a sharp gust of wind shot forward.
“Screech!”
Blood sprayed from a clean puncture wound in the subordinate's shoulder. Terrified, the monkey scrambled backward in a panic.
He was a tyrant in every sense of the word.
The leader scanned his trembling subjects with immense satisfaction. He bit into the fruit and fell into a smug reverie.
Not long ago, a mad bird had raided their territory. The memory alone soured his mood, causing him to scowl.
It was a creature with ink-black feathers.
Its appearance had been bizarre, and it possessed a spiritual pressure far greater than the leader's own.
The beast had attacked indiscriminately, its unfocused, glassy eyes proving it was entirely out of its mind.
Being a flying creature, it had been incredibly difficult to counter. The barrage of feathers it rained down like a storm had been utterly terrifying.
In contrast, his subordinates had been reduced to throwing useless pebbles.
They had stood absolutely no chance.
Their numerical advantage had meant nothing.
Had the leader not stepped forward to unleash his newly awakened spiritual abilities, the entire troop would have been slaughtered.
Yet, even a mad bird possessed some basic survival instinct. Once the leader managed to inflict a severe wound on it, the beast had turned and fled.
If they ever crossed paths again, he fully intended to tear it limb from limb.
The leader was slightly concerned that the spiritual energy in the hot spring was beginning to fade, but he had already scouted another location. It would be fine.
With that comforting thought, he prepared to rise.
But the moment he stood up,
“Chirp? Chirp, chirp!”
“Ook, ook-ook!”
“Chirp!”
The sharp cries of birds echoed from above.
Looking up, he saw two avian creatures that looked remarkably similar to the mad bird peering down at them.
Though their feathers were of different colors, they were undeniably of the same species.
His subordinates tensed, quickly grabbing stones from the ground.
However, the spiritual energy radiating from these two seemed far weaker than that of the mad bird from before.
A sinister greed flickered in the leader's eyes.
How long had it been since he last tasted fresh meat?
He could barely remember.
Moreover, these creatures possessed refined spiritual energy.
Devouring them would surely allow him to elevate his own cultivation to the next level.
To his delight, one of the birds foolishly landed on a nearby branch. One of his waiting subordinates immediately pounced.
“Ook-ook!!”
The outcome was obvious.
No matter how much spiritual energy a bird possessed, how could a creature of the sky hope to match them on the ground?
It would be shredded by sharp claws and captured in an instant.
Indeed, weak spiritual beasts were frequently hunted and killed by ordinary predators.
That was what he expected, but...
'? '
An entirely different reality unfolded before his eyes.
With a movement as fluid as flowing water, a dark wing parried the subordinate's reaching hand—
—THWACK!!!
—and struck the monkey's skull at a perfect angle.
The subordinate's eyes instantly rolled back, losing all focus.
Thud!
It did not appear to be dead,
but its body twitched violently on the ground from the sheer force of the blow.
The perpetrator of this sudden violence hopped onto the fallen monkey, casually tapping its head with a wing.
“Chirp!”
It seemed these birds were also completely insane.
'Is madness a racial trait of these creatures?'
The leader wondered.
He slowly gathered his spiritual energy, preparing to unleash his innate ability. He would deal with this intruder himself.
Just then,
'? '
His eyes locked with the bird's.
A pair of gleaming, mysterious red eyes stared directly back at him.
An inexplicable chill swept down the monkey leader's spine.
The bird wore a bizarrely expressive look.
It seemed to mock him, yet at the same time, it looked intensely amused.
And in the very next instant—
Thwip!
A single dark feather shot through the air, embedding itself perfectly between the leader's eyes.
That was his final memory.