The sound grew louder and sharper, accompanied by the faintest scraping of something hard against stone.
Xuan's eyes narrowed.
Something was coming.
He stepped back, settling into a stance. His heart beat steadily, but not without weight.
From the tunnel ahead, a glint of movement came.
Then, it emerged.
A long, low creature crawled into the dim light. Its body was segmented, like an oversized centipede, each plated segment covered in hardened chitin. It had no eyes, but long, quill-like whiskers twitched at the air, sensing its prey. At the front, twin sickle-like claws gleamed faintly, dripping with a sickly green fluid.
Xuan's breath caught briefly.
A Venomweaver.
The name surfaced from the mental list he'd memorized.
Before entering the labyrinth, the sect had provided every disciple with a terse but critical overview of the creatures lurking within. Crude illustrations, short explanations—just cold, efficient data: names, behavioral traits, and threat levels.
Venomweaver – Grade 1Species Type: CorebeastDefensive Traits: Medium-grade chitin armorOffensive Traits: Paralytic venom delivered through front clawsWeakness: Neck joint
Additional Information: Blind – hunts via vibration and scent
Grade 1. The threshold where true monsters began.
Beasts were ranked on a scale from Grade 1 to Grade 9, a system recognized across cultivation realms. Grade 1 monsters were roughly equivalent to a human cultivator at the Inner Essence Realm—formidable to mortals, dangerous even to new disciples, but manageable with skill. But monsters were further differentiated than just by strength. The biggest difference was the species type.
Those born with ancient bloodlines and dormant power were known as Bloodbeasts. Their growth depended on the awakening of those bloodlines, and they often inherited instincts, abilities, and pride. Among themselves, they claimed the title Primals—a name rooted in arrogance, as they viewed all other beasts as lesser imitations.
The other path to power birthed the Corebeasts—creatures like the Venomweaver, who evolved through sheer survival. Instead of awakening blood, they cultivated strength, forming a beast core within their body. With it, they could manipulate and absorb qi, mimicking human cultivation. Grade 1 was their beginning: the moment they developed a core and stepped onto the path of true monsters.
Xuan's fingers curled slightly.
He wasn't afraid, but a flicker of tension danced through his limbs. This would be one of the hardest fights yet. Up until now he had only fought normal wild animals and Quasi-Beasts – monsters that were on the threathhold of reaching Grade 1 but just not there yet.
Skrrrrch!
The Venomweaver lunged.
Xuan didn't retreat. He shifted slightly to the side, placing one foot lightly against the ground to dampen the vibrations of his movement. It was blind—it relied on vibration and scent.
He used that.
As it barreled forward, he twisted away at the last second, forcing its body to slide past him. Its claws raked at air.
"It tracks sound, not sight," he muttered.
He kicked off the wall beside him, using the motion to drop into a swift slide. The Falconburst spirals flared behind his leg as he twisted into a low sweeping kick, adding explosive speed to the strike as his foot arced toward the creature's unstable hind legs.
But it didn't go completely as planned. Not used to fights of this level, his shin connected with a hard segment of the beast's carapace, producing a sharp metallic thud. The sound echoed off the stone walls—and yet, Xuan barely felt a thing.
He blinked, his scared shock turning into mild surprise, before a faint smirk tugged at his lips, as he gained renewed confidence in this fight.
The shin guards Big Sis Yue had made were holding up incredibly well.
Even if they came with… questionably personal embellishments.
Krrrr
Hit, the Venomweaver screeched, stumbling—but not falling.
Using the chance, Xuan quickly ducked beneath its front claws, slamming his palm into its side. A frost sigil flared.
"Frostbind."
A crystalline glyph bloomed at the point of impact. From it, a shimmering frost chain snapped into existence, linking the beast's flank to Xuan's palm. He winced at the surge of energy, still not completely used to this ability, and then flicked his arm to hit the beasts forelimb, transferring the anchor point of the chain from his palm to the beast's own forelimb.
The sudden pull twisted the creature's balance for just a heartbeat. Just enough.
Xuan spun, two Falconburst spirals flaring behind his right leg. His foot shot forward—this time directly at the joint near its neck.
Crack!
The sound of the connecting vibrated through the corridor.
Then the creature twitched, spasmed, and went still.
The fight was over.
Xuan exhaled, his muscles still coiled, waiting for a second strike that never came. The corridor fell silent once again, save for the faint crackling of frost where the Frostbind sigil had flared.
After a few seconds, Xuan gathered himself and stepped back, heaving for breath as he eyed the twitching, motionless corpse of the Venomweaver.
It might have seemed like an easy victory, but Xuan knew that just a single mistake could have ended in his demise.
For a moment, he simply stood there, breath steadying, his body still tense. He knew he had to leave soon—the scent of blood might attract other beasts.
Not wanting to waste time, he turned slightly, ready to move on.
Then, just as he shifted his weight to leave, something glimmered faintly near the creature's neck joint—the exact point where his final kick had landed.
It was a slightly dim green crystal, half-buried in the dark ichor now pooling beneath the corpse. What looked like runes were etched across its surface, though dim and dulled, like the embers of a long-dead flame.
He hesitated, afraid to reach his hand out. The blood was still fresh, and likely still venomous.
But then as he looked at the crystal more closely, a far memory starting resurfacing. Something about this crystal reminded him of something he once saw.
Something from a long time ago.
Back when he was even younger—before everything changed. One of his father's disciples, a talkative cultivator named Ren, had once shown him a similar item. Not this small and brittle thing, but a crystal embedded in lacquered wood, polished to perfection. That one had a similar green tone, but there was something different. It pulsed with warmth, almost as if it were... alive?
"These," Ren had said, holding the crystal up, "are what the more structured sects and guilds use. They're called 'Echo Jades.' They track everything about a cultivator—realm, combat style, qi attributes, skill proficiencies… even bloodline potential."
He'd laughed at the time. "In a proper sect, we don't guess someone's strength—we record it. Makes training easier. Planning. Evaluation. Promotions. Rewards. We make sure talent doesn't get lost."
Xuan remembered being in awe. He had asked Ren if he'd ever have one.
Ren had ruffled his hair. "If your father lets you walk the path, you'll have one better than mine."
Lost in thought Xuan stared down at the blood-covered crystal in front of him.
His expression shifted.
Could this be one?
He reached his hand out, almost touching the crystal.
What would mine say?