After returning home that night, Jason sat alone on his thin pallet long after Hannah and Clara had fallen asleep. The bracelet rested cool and silent on his wrist, but the new bond hummed quietly at the edge of his thoughts like a second pulse. He stared at the dark canvas above him and turned the same problem over and over in his mind.
How was a second-layer tempered-body cultivator supposed to obtain the blood of a beast stronger than himself without dying in the attempt?
He had no allies. No senior to guide him. No protective talismans or escape treasures. Every path he imagined ended the same way—torn apart in the undergrowth, his body never found. The absence of his father pressed harder than usual in those quiet hours. If the man were still alive, Jason thought, he would have known exactly how to approach the hunt, what signs to watch for, how to move without drawing the wrong attention. But his father was ash and memory now, and the only guidance left was a sarcastic spirit bound to a piece of metal.
Still the fact remained unchanged: if he wanted real strength before the tournament, he needed that blood.
Two full days passed.
Jason spent them the same way he had spent the days before—deep in the woods, driving kick after controlled kick into the same scarred trunk. Left leg, right leg, power held carefully at sixty percent, then seventy, never quite enough to cripple himself but always enough to leave the bones aching. Sweat darkened the earth. His breath came in steady, measured pulls. To anyone watching he might have looked like a boy who had simply given up on the more dangerous plan and returned to the only training method he knew.
On the afternoon of the second day the bracelet finally broke its silence.
*So when exactly are you going to hunt for the beast blood, master?*
Jason landed another kick and stepped back, rolling his shoulders. *Once I finish my preparations.*
*What preparations?* the bracelet asked, tone dry. *Because from where I sit, all I've seen is a boy kicking a tree until his legs shake.*
Jason's jaw tightened. *What exactly do you think I'm doing right now if not preparing?*
*You call this preparation?*
*Do you expect me to march straight into beast territory half-ready and bleed out on the first day?* Jason shot back, annoyance sharpening the thought. *My legs still aren't strong enough for the Phantom Kick. If I can't even trust my own foundation, how am I supposed to survive long enough to collect anything?*
The bracelet was quiet for a moment. When it spoke again the mockery had softened, just slightly.
*At least you understand the benefit if you succeed. Most at your level would already have talked themselves out of the entire idea.*
*Benefit my ass,* Jason muttered mentally, driving another kick into the trunk hard enough to send bark flying. *How am I supposed to survive a fight against a beast stronger than me?*
*And who told you that you would be fighting a beast?*
Jason froze mid-motion, foot still raised. He lowered it slowly. *What do you mean?*
*In the beast territories there is only one real law—survival of the fittest. Stronger beasts challenge weaker ones constantly. Territory, mates, food, dominance… there is almost always a fight happening somewhere. You do not need to start one. You only need to find one that is already underway and wait for the right moment.*
A slow smile spread across Jason's face as the implication settled. *You mean I don't have to get my hands dirty at all? Just wait for them to tear each other apart and then take what I need?*
*Let's not pretend your hands will stay clean,* the bracelet replied. *But yes. Locate an active battle. Stay out of sight. Move only when the fight is nearly finished and both sides are exhausted or one is already dying. Fresh blood is still usable as long as the body has not gone cold for too long.*
Jason exhaled, the tight band of dread around his chest loosening for the first time in days. *All right. If it can be done that way, then tomorrow we go hunting.*
He returned to the tree and continued his kicks until the light began to fade, the new plan turning over in his mind with every impact.
That evening he told Clara only part of the truth.
"I'll be spending a few days deeper in the woods," he said while they ate the thin evening meal. "I need uninterrupted time to push the leg training further. The tournament is getting closer."
Clara studied him across the low table. Her gaze was sharp despite the perpetual fatigue in her face. For a moment Jason thought she might press him for more, but she only nodded once.
"Be careful. And come back before the tournament starts. No excuses."
Hannah looked like she wanted to argue, but she held her tongue when Clara gave her a quiet look. Jason felt a flicker of guilt at the deception, yet he knew the full truth would only frighten them both.
---
Long before dawn the bracelet woke him with a sharp mental prod.
*Up. The earlier we move, the less chance of being noticed leaving the camp.*
Jason dressed in silence, tied the small cloth bundle of dried food and the remaining healing salve to his belt, and slipped out of the tent without waking anyone. At the edge of the outer camp he paused and looked back once. The patched canvas looked fragile in the pre-dawn gloom. He fixed the image in his mind, then turned and walked into the trees.
They passed the familiar lake where he had first found the bracelet. Mist still clung to the water's surface. Beyond it the forest grew older, the undergrowth thicker, the air heavier with the scent of damp earth and something wilder. By the time the sun was fully up they had reached the unmarked boundary that separated Fox family territory from the true beast lands.
Jason stood at the edge for a long time, staring into the darker trees beyond. The difference was subtle but real—the silence felt deeper, the shadows denser, the occasional distant cry sharper.
*Don't linger too long at the border,* the bracelet advised. *But you're right not to cross yet. Spend the night on this side. Safer.*
He chose a sturdy tree with thick lower branches, climbed until he found a secure fork, and settled in as best he could. Sleep came in short, uneasy stretches. Every unfamiliar sound jerked him awake. The bracelet remained quiet, offering neither comfort nor complaint.
---
The explosion that woke him the next morning was close enough to rattle the leaves around his perch.
Jason jerked upright so hard he nearly fell. His heart slammed against his ribs. Another deep boom rolled through the forest, followed by a high, furious roar that no human throat could have produced.
*What was that?* he demanded.
*Looks like you won't need to spend days searching after all,* the bracelet replied, almost cheerful. *Something large is already fighting.*
Jason's fear warred with sudden, fierce hope. *They're finally at it.*
*Seem so. But do not rush.*
*Why not?* He was already halfway down the tree.
*Only if you want to die quickly,* the bracelet said flatly. *Right now the battle is at its peak. Both sides are still strong, still focused on each other but more than capable of noticing a soft human child blundering into their fight. We wait until they are nearly finished—when one is dying or both are too exhausted to care about scavengers.*
Jason forced himself to stop at the base of the tree. His hands were trembling. He clenched them into fists and settled into a low crouch, eyes fixed on the direction of the continuing explosions.
The morning stretched. Sunlight climbed higher. The air grew hot and thick. Distant crashes and roars rolled through the trees in uneven waves. At times the noise seemed to move closer; at others it drifted farther away. Jason's mouth went dry. Sweat ran down his spine. Every instinct screamed at him to either flee or charge, but he held still, trusting the cold voice in his mind more than his own fear.
By early afternoon the explosions had lessened. The roars came less frequently. Jason's legs had gone numb from crouching so long.
*They should be done by now,* he sent, unable to keep the urgency out of the thought.
*Calm down. Rushing in while the last exchange is still possible is how scavengers die.*
*But the noise has dropped a lot. A winner must have emerged.*
*You're half right,* the bracelet said. *They may simply be gathering themselves for the final blow. Wait a little longer.*
Jason stretched out on the ground beneath the tree, staring up through the leaves, forcing his breathing to stay even. The wait felt endless. Then another massive explosion shook the earth hard enough that loose dirt sifted down onto his face. After that—silence. Complete, heavy, unnatural silence.
Jason sat up slowly. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
*That… that would have killed me if I'd gone in early,* he thought.
*Yes. You're welcome. Now you may move. Carefully. And keep your senses open—wounded beasts are sometimes more dangerous than healthy ones, and other scavengers may already be on the way.*
Jason rose, wiped his palms on his trousers, and drew a deep breath of the hot afternoon air. Then he ran.
He crossed the invisible boundary at full speed, the trees of the true beast territory closing around him like a darker, older world.