"There's no need for anxiety, Chieftain."
In the dusky hall of Blackwind Stockade, where the scent of pork grease and cold steel lingered faintly in the air, a refined scholar stepped forward. Clad in Confucian robes, a white-feathered fan in his hand, he approached the towering figure of Xiong Qi with an air of calm assurance.
"The Luo Family of Qingshi Town may appear powerful on the surface, but they are already struggling to hold themselves together," he said in a measured tone, eyes gleaming beneath his scholar's composure. "As long as Blackwind Stockade keeps a low profile for now, that will be enough."
"The Luo Family is struggling to protect themselves?" Xiong Qi's thick brow furrowed, his voice laced with doubt. He leaned forward, the chair beneath him creaking under his great weight. "What do you mean? Aren't they one of the four major families in Qingshi Town?"
The scholar gave a soft chuckle, folding his fan and tapping it lightly against his palm. "Does the Chieftain know of Elder Changfeng from the Luo Family's ancestral estate?"
"You mean Patriarch Changfeng?" Xiong Qi mulled over the name, then gave a short nod. "I know of him. But what does he have to do with the Luo Family's collapse?"
The scholar's lips curved into a subtle smile. "Please, allow me to explain fully."
…
Within the quiet confines of the hall, the flickering light of oil lamps painted shifting shadows across the rough stone walls as the scholar's voice wove a tapestry of intrigue and internal decay. Xiong Qi, arms crossed over his massive chest, listened attentively, his earlier tension giving way to a thoughtful stillness.
Bit by bit, the pieces clicked into place. The Luo Family's once-formidable pillar, Elder Changfeng, was nearing the end of his days. And without him, the fragile balance of their influence would likely shatter.
"If what you're saying is true," Xiong Qi finally muttered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "then the old patriarch is on the verge of death. The Luo Family's downfall could happen overnight."
His eyes gleamed. "If that happens, maybe our Blackwind Stockade can follow the Zhao Family's lead and get a slice of the pie?"
As he spoke, greed began to rise like smoke in his chest. Even if the Zhao Family devoured the lion's share, if Blackwind Stockade could seize even the leftovers, it would be enough to transform them from a minor mountain stronghold into a force worth fearing.
But the scholar swiftly fanned away the spark before it could become flame.
"We had better not meddle with the Luo Family."
"Why not?" Xiong Qi's voice sharpened with frustration. "They're on the verge of collapse, and we're just supposed to sit on our hands?!"
He slammed a heavy fist onto the stone arm of his chair. The sound echoed like a drumbeat of suppressed anger.
"Chieftain," the scholar said gently, meeting his leader's gaze, "Blackwind Stockade is still weak. Among the stockades in the vicinity of Qingshi Town, we barely rank tenth. We may seem fearsome to passing merchants or starving refugees, but compared to the long-established powers in the region, we're still a newborn cub."
He paused, letting his words settle before continuing. "Right now, our most important task is not to eye the Luo Family's crumbling fortress like hungry dogs. Instead, we must focus on gathering the refugees fleeing the famine, and swallowing the smaller bandit forces nearby."
"Only by doing so can we expand steadily and seize the fleeting opportunities hidden in this chaos. Otherwise…" His voice dropped slightly. "Even if we manage to snatch some treasure from the Luo Family's ruins, do you truly believe we'll be able to hold onto it?"
The scholar's words struck like a cold gust of wind against the fire of Xiong Qi's ambition.
The chieftain fell silent, his breathing heavy, mind calculating. The council hall was so quiet, they could almost hear the faint rustle of leaves in the mountain wind outside.
"…What the scholar says does make sense," Xiong Qi admitted after a moment, his voice gruff but resigned.
"Very well. We'll do it your way for now. Gather the refugees. Absorb the small bandit groups. Strengthen Blackwind Stockade as much as possible. Let's become a beast too large for others to ignore—before we bare our fangs."
The scholar smiled faintly, bowing his head. "Your wisdom honors the path ahead, Chieftain."
…
As the sun rose, golden rays filtered through the high mountains and spilled into the bustling streets of Qingshi Town.
People swarmed through the narrow roads—vendors calling out from their carts, children darting between the crowd, and ragged refugees trailing behind the scent of food. The pulse of survival beat steady and loud beneath the city's cracked stone walls.
Within this chaos, the Luo Family—the one Xiong Qi had so yearned to challenge—began its own quiet stirrings.
…
"Huff…"
"Inhale…"
"Huff…"
"Inhale…"
In the heart of the Luo Family's ancestral grounds, inside the secluded courtyard reserved for its most esteemed elder, Luo Changfeng moved through a silent storm of effort.
His body, though withered with age, still moved with the sharp precision of a veteran cultivator. Arms slicing through the air, each breath aligned with a strike, he practiced the Fierce Tiger Strength technique with unwavering focus.
He did not train for glory or pride, but out of necessity—out of a raw, stubborn desire to hold back the closing jaws of death for just a few more days.
His movements, once slow and methodical, gradually accelerated. Each cycle of the technique pushed his lungs harder, until his breath came in harsh bursts and his limbs ached from the strain.
Only after the final movement did he finally stop, exhaling one last shuddering breath as he steadied his trembling frame.
The familiar silence of the courtyard returned.
He glanced at his trembling hands, then turned inward—toward the strange, system-like force that had accompanied him ever since his awakening.
"Now that a whole day has passed," he muttered, "let's see how much Qi-Blood I've recovered…"
A translucent panel flickered into view before his eyes:
[Name: Luo Changfeng!][Lifespan: 8 days+][Cultivation: Bone Refinement Intermediate Stage+][Qi-Blood: 1350 (-50)](PS: Safe usable Qi-Blood is 85 points!)[Cultivation Technique: Mortal Finest Grade · Fierce Tiger Strength (Comprehension: 30%+)]
Luo Changfeng furrowed his brow, considering the numbers. "Fifty points of Qi-Blood recovered in a single day… that's decent."
"But what does that plus sign after my cultivation level mean?" he whispered, eyes narrowing. "Could it mean I'm on the verge of a breakthrough? Or that I can exceed the safe limit of Qi-Blood usage?"
His thoughts churned.
He extended a bony finger and tapped the plus sign beside his cultivation level.
[To advance a minor realm, 200 points of Qi-Blood are required. Would you like to advance, host?][Yes] / [No]
"…Two hundred, huh?"
His gaze darkened. "Even if I used up all of the safe reserve, I still wouldn't have enough."
Then another thought struck him. "What if I use just the 85 safe points first… and wait until I accumulate the full amount?"
As if in response, the system pulsed again:
[Would you like to consume 85 points of Qi-Blood for a slight increase in cultivation?][Yes] / [No]
A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Well now… that's interesting."
He didn't hesitate.
With a sense of solemn purpose, Luo Changfeng tapped [Yes].
A quiet surge began deep in his bones.
He closed his eyes as the invisible current of energy rushed through his weary body. It wasn't the dramatic transformation of a realm breakthrough—but it was real. His limbs grew firmer. His breathing steadied. His strength sharpened, bit by bit.
Half a minute later, the flow ceased as suddenly as it had come.
But Luo Changfeng could feel it—his body had changed.
"It's subtle," he murmured, slowly clenching and unclenching his fists. "But I am stronger than I was yesterday."
He looked up at the blue sky above the courtyard, eyes calm but resolute.
"In this dying body, there is still strength left to fight."
And somewhere deep within, a spark began to burn brighter.