A dark shape sat on a gray rock so brittle and half-dead that it almost crumbled, while spectral shapes danced around the rock illuminated by the dim twilight glow that never brightened only ever dimmed. Where there used to be 3 now there 5. Such was Han Bei's power now that his cultivation had reached the middle heaven of the 1st realm

Han Bei's cloak billowed as ghosts moved around him. Their presence greater than before, as were their forms, less transparent and more solid. Yet as real they seemed, they were nothing but pure power given form by the will of another. Their previous wills all burned away, and now they were the shadows cast from the flame of another soul, one that hasn't been consumed by hatred just yet.

Han Bei had the ghosts circle around him because finer control escaped him once again. His art had grown more alien to him due to his increase in cultivation and he felt like had grown extra limbs that he struggled to control. If he focused too much on a single specter he would lose control of the rest or at other times the phantoms simply disappeared as he failed to channel enough qi to sustain them, and If he tried anything more complicated the ghosts lost their form and become an aberrant collection of human-like limbs and green smoke.

Han Bei took out a spirit stone and absorbed its contents until it was empty and gray. He summoned his yin soldiers again and one by one they appeared as their dance began anew until they broke apart as the concentration of their master wavered. Their manifestation this time lasted for a few moments longer.

Without hesitation, Han Bei took out another spirit stone that soon fueled another round of manifestation. In such a way he burned through his own reserves as his art caught up with his cultivation realm. He held the ghosts in their shapes longer and longer, each failure a step while each success a leap forward on the great path. Such was blessed cultivation.

Ever so slowly he manipulated these new spiritual muscles and they soon started to fall under his control. Like fingers, he manipulated each phantom separately and then he clenched this spiritual fist until only a single ghost remained. Stronger and more real than any he created previously, but it wasn't just the [ yin soldiers ] that he refined.

Every move that he made, every step that he took was amplified and enhanced as qi coursed through his body. Like a child, he relearned how to walk, run, and jump as unsure steps turned into a confident run. In time he turned to more complex things and his body returned to monotonous but pleasurable martial forms. Every palm strike, punch, and kick was revisited and refined to greater heights all of it became a foundation that allowed him to take a single step further.

7 days of blissful cultivation passed and while Han Bei's realm hadn't increased even a bit the same couldn't be said about his power. " My body aches. I wish to soar, I wish to battle. " His gaze turned to the plains above and he thought of what beasties could be found on cursed plains. Beasties in particular because there was another reason why he stopped the cultivation session, one he found a bit embarrassing to admit.

Light blue mist returned to the scavenger plains. Like a lazy serpent, it whirled around and strangled a particular spot. A certain pair might recognize this particular mist with no small amount of anger, only they wouldn't find it in the same place. The formations' current location was different as was its purpose. A prison no more but a fortress instead, although Han Bei didn't see much difference between the 2.

He had taken certain risks and traveled further down south, ever closer to that infamous Dead sea. Further away from the nameless ravine than he had ever been and though he had a few close encounters, both with the living and the undead, he reached a place that he considered relatively safe. " relatively safe, huh, " Han Bei mocked himself as he remembered horrors like the Yin soldier mist. " I wonder if there is any place considered safe on this world, besides that eyesore of a city. "

The whole formation surrounded a single sturdy tree, leafless and grey, and upon that tree, Han Bei had hung the body of a hyena the size of a horse. Its limp body hung upside down while precious few drops of blood dripped from its neck where its spine had been broken and splinters of bone had pierced its skin. Han Bei looked on pleased, " A good clean kill. "

While his mind was idle his hands were not. He held 2 talismans and a ceramic jar. Carefully he placed the talismans on the container that he afterward placed underneath the dead beast. Next, he took out a knife from his bag of holding and formed a simple hand seal with his other hand. His concentration sharpened as he cut open the hyena's throat. The blood flowed like a bright orange waterfall but not even a drop managed to stain the green grass as the talismans on the vat lit up with multi-colored lights and beckoned the blood. The beast's vital essence moved as if it had a mind of its and entered the jar. In a matter of seconds enough blood flowed to fill the container twice over, yet the little jar still greedily drunk as if it was a thirst-ridden traveler in a desert.

After several minutes the jar's thirst finally came to an end as the body of the large hyena was completely drained. Han Bei quickly grabbed a rope and a piece of cloth from his bag of holding that he used to seal up the jar. After he was done The light faded from 1 of the talismans while the other still remained active, feeding on power left over by Han Bei. The jar weighted easily over 100 kilograms but it would be impossible to tell since Han Bei easily carried it around as if it was empty.

He looked at the talismans, whose colors had already faded a bit, " I can probably use these for another 2 or 3 times no more. " Which Han Bei found acceptable. Before the trip back he used another spirit stone and replenished his power. As he looked at the shiny stone he couldn't help but have a wry smile on his face. He had been somewhat overenthusiastic during the week-long cultivation session and his reserves had run dangerously low.

He sent silent prayers of gratitude to the bald necromancer because it was his talismans that made the gathering of the beast blood possible and saved Han Bei from poverty. " Since I spared his life it's pretty fair all things considered, " he thought as he closed his eyes and fresh power entered his body. " Now only 11 stones remain. A pretty sad number compared to the 100 I had earlier and the hundreds I used to have as the chosen of the Yellow Valley. " He held the jar filled with blood, " Still after I sell this, it should be enough to keep my head above the water for a day or 2. "

Han Bei was ready to leave when he heard a voice. A shrill voice, a mocking voice. One that dared to mock him and he regretted not smothering. The voice traveled from outside the formation, " Act sharp boys, who knows what's inside. " A hateful voice for a hateful bastard. Han Bei's face was somewhere between a savage grin and a feral snarl as a single name occupied his mind, " That fucker Bo Fei! "