Of Hunters and Immortals

Jiang moved south, ignoring the roads in favour of cutting directly through the wilds. At the speeds he was capable of moving now, it was actually faster going this way than following the winding paths.

As he went, he reflected on his attack on the Crimson Blades. He wasn't an expert at fighting other people, by any means, but he felt that he had done acceptably well. There had been a couple of moments there where he'd been in danger – in future, he'd need to keep a closer eye on other archers, for starters – but otherwise it had been… remarkably easy.

Shockingly, it seemed he'd advanced enough that mortals – as weird as it felt to refer to them like that – simply weren't much of a threat to him anymore. Not to say they weren't a threat at all, but… it was manageable.

Honestly, his biggest mistake had been how he'd left. The dramatic use of his stealth technique to slip away had felt satisfying at the time – vanishing into the night, Qi flaring around him, leaving the bandit leader to stew in whatever thoughts were eating him alive.

Except… he'd left all of his arrows behind.

Typically, it wasn't something he had to worry about much – even if he lost a couple of arrows on a hunt, he had plenty to spare – but then, most hunts didn't involve firing almost every arrow he had.

At least the bow was still in one piece. He'd been more than a little worried about destroying it the same way he had the last, but this one seemed to be holding up surprisingly well.

Jiang brushed a hand over his quiver, counting quickly. Five. Five arrows left, and no way of replacing them unless he wanted to spend half a day carving and fletching replacements – and that was assuming he could find enough resources to make them.

He sighed. Looks like he'd have to swing by another town to replace his supplies. Not the end of the world – a hot meal certainly wouldn't do him any harm. As it was, tonight he'd be using up the last of the dried jerky he'd bought before leaving Qinghe.

The terrain rolled by beneath his feet – low, snow-covered ridges, stretches of brittle brown grass poking through frost, and the skeletal remains of last autumn's undergrowth. He set a steady pace, covering ground faster than a mortal could dream, though it still wasn't the effortless glide he imagined when he thought of true cultivator travel. His Qi control was improving, but running full tilt burned through reserves faster than he liked. Best to save that for when it mattered.

An hour passed before something pulled him from his thoughts. A sudden spike of Qi, far behind him, sharp and bright against the muted background of the winter forest.

He stopped dead, head turning toward the northwest – the direction of the Crimson Blades' camp. The flare was strong enough that even at this distance, it prickled along the edges of his senses, but it lasted only a few heartbeats before fading into nothing.

Odd. It had felt… almost familiar.

He waited, stretching his perception, but no second surge came.

Probably nothing, then. Could have been a spirit beast. Could have been some cultivator passing through. Either way, it wasn't his problem.

For a moment, the image of the bandit leader came to mind – the man still sitting by the burning remains of his camp when Jiang had left, ringed by the dead. If that burst of Qi was a predator of some sort… well, then perhaps the heavens had decided against handing out second chances after all.

Jiang rolled his shoulders and turned back to the south. He'd made his choice back there; he wasn't going to start second-guessing it now just because something interesting happened behind him. His family was ahead of him, somewhere, and every step in the wrong direction was wasted time.

By nightfall, he estimated he'd travelled roughly the equivalent of a day and a half of a mortal's pace – not bad, considering he hadn't even been using his reinforcement technique.

He found shelter beneath an overhanging rock shelf, cleared a patch of snow, and lit a small fire. Not big enough to be seen for miles, but enough to thaw his fingers and keep the frost from biting too deep. Honestly, it was mostly habit at this point – he wasn't quite sure what sort of temperatures a cultivator of his advancement could endure, but despite the fact that he was barely dressed for winter, it simply didn't feel that cold to him.

The flames danced, and for a while, he simply watched them. Tomorrow, he would push farther south. By his estimation, he'd reach the Dead River Gang's territory within two days if the terrain stayed open – though it would probably take another day to actually track them down. He doubted he would get as lucky as he did with the Crimson Blades.

Jiang tore into the last of his dried jerky, washing it down with a few mouthfuls of water that had started to ice over in the flask. The food was tough and tasteless, but it was fuel, and that was all that mattered. Once he was done, he banked the fire until it was little more than embers, then settled cross-legged on the cleared patch of ground.

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The night air was still, the cold biting but not unpleasant. He drew in a slow breath, letting his Qi settle into the steady rhythm of cultivation. Almost immediately, he noticed it – something different. The flow was smoother, cleaner, like a knot he hadn't known was there had been untied.

It took him a moment to place the feeling. There'd been resistance before, faint enough he only registered it by its absence – something that had made every step forward in cultivation feel just a little heavier than it should. Now, it was gone.

Oddly enough, it reminded him of just after he'd chosen to kill Kaelen, the way the subsequent breakthrough had suddenly seemed so easy. Now it had happened again, though to a lesser extent, after fighting the Crimson Blades. Was progress in cultivation helped along by… killing people?

Jiang shook his head. No. That… simply didn't make any sense. Cultivation was an internal thing, not an external one – if it seemed to be connected to his fighting, then it had to be because he was missing something.

He thought back to his decision with the bandit leader. Maybe that had been it. Coming to terms with the choice he'd made, whatever it meant, had somehow cleared the path. Now that he thought about it, he remembered Elder Lu saying that cultivation wasn't just about gathering Qi; there was a part of it tied to the cultivator themselves – who they were, what they understood about the world and their place in it. That had been the whole reason Elder Lu had been outside the Sect when they'd met – he'd been travelling to… gain perspective.

Judging by the amount of resistance that had just vanished, a lack of understanding wouldn't hold him back for now – and considering how quickly he'd been progressing even without this 'understanding', it possibly wouldn't hold him back for quite some time. But if Elder Lu was right, it would matter more the further he went. The thought was both reassuring and vaguely worrying – he wasn't sure how much of himself he was willing to sift through just to keep climbing higher.

He set the thought aside and sank deeper into cultivation. The Qi around him moved like water through open channels, flowing into his core with almost alarming speed. Out here, away from stone walls and tiled roofs, everything was sharper – cleaner. No etiquette lessons, no ceremonial breathing drills, no endless hours sitting in a courtyard under the watchful eyes of senior disciples. Just him, the cold air, and the steady thrum of the world's energy.

By the time he opened his eyes again, the moon had shifted higher in the sky, and his progress toward the next stage was clear. Not there yet, but close.

He exhaled slowly, stretching his fingers, and let his mind turn toward something that had been lingering at the edges of his thoughts for a while: his next technique. Specifically, what he could do with shadows.

He'd used them here and there – let them twist unnaturally at his feet to make people uneasy – but that wasn't really a technique. That was just a side effect of flaring his Qi in a certain way.

Honestly, Jiang found the whole thing rather confusing. If shadows were just the absence of light, then it made no sense for them to move without the light source shifting. Yet they did. So… what if he could push it further? If he could learn to twist the shadows into shapes, could he take it further? Give them actual form?

The potential uses… well, there were too many to count. He could trip someone in battle, create a snare trap that was all but invisible. Maybe even take it further – make a wall, or a shield. Could he send a shadow to strike from a direction he wasn't in? Create weapons?

It was worth finding out.

Jiang reached inward for that thread of Qi that seemed to hum along the edges of shadow. It was as subtle as ever – almost slippery, really – but when he grasped it, the darkness at his feet quivered. Usually, this was as far as he went. It was rather intimidating to see the shadows come alive, no matter that they didn't actually do anything.

Now, though, he tried pushing further.

Something simple to start with, just to confirm it was viable at all. A square. Four straight edges. The darkness bunched and spread, but the 'square' he got looked more like a misshapen blob. Still, it was… something. At least the shadows had moved, so he was on the right track. He tried again, tightening his mental grip, forcing the edges to straighten. This time, it held for a moment before sagging back into its original outline.

Hm. Better than nothing.

Next came a circle, which turned out to be harder – no corners to anchor his thoughts, just a curve that wanted to wobble out of shape the moment he lost focus. The result was more of an egg, but it stayed intact longer than the square had. He shifted back and forth between the two shapes, each attempt making the edges cleaner, the forms steadier.

Minutes bled away in silence, the fire's embers glowing faintly to one side. Jiang could feel the strain in his Qi, not a draining exhaustion but a slow burn, like muscles working in a way they weren't used to. Oddly, the rhythm of it was already becoming more natural. The motions in his mind, the way his Qi had to twist – he shouldn't have been adapting this fast. The Pact, most likely. Another little push forward that made him wonder exactly what he'd traded for.

After all, if his side of this was so amazing, what was the raven Patron getting out of it?

Only after the square and circle felt stable enough to hold for a few breaths did he let his mind wander toward something more ambitious. A triangle, sharp at one end, flat at the other—clumsy, but at least the angles were easier to fix than a curve. Then, cautiously, he bent one side of the triangle inward, imagining it as the point of a crude dagger. The shape wavered, flickered, and collapsed into an ugly smear.

Well. It wasn't much, but it had potential – though, of course, none of it would be helpful in the least unless he could figure out how to make the shadows solid. Hells, if he could figure out how to do that, maybe he wouldn't need to buy more arrows. Just make them out of shadows whenever he needed them.

Jiang snorted to himself. Why stop there? Why not just magic up a bow whenever he liked?

Even if it were possible, he was a long, long way off from managing anything like that.

Still, the intent had been there. And for the first time, he'd managed to pull a shadow into something vaguely resembling a weapon, even if it wouldn't cut butter.

By the time he let go, the cold had crept into his fingers and the fire was nearly out. He tossed another few sticks on it, sitting back and making himself comfortable as the fire flared temporarily. He could worry about getting the technique to work later. For now, sleep.