Chapter 154: Primal Beast Attacks!
The Eternal Night Mansion slept beneath a moonless sky. The night felt alive, breathing with the faint hum of the sect’s vast spiritual barrier.
Within one of the inner courtyards, a single room still burned with light.
Mo Han sat cross-legged in the great hall, robes draped loosely around him. A single candle flickered at his side, its flame bending under his slow, rhythmic breath. The rest of the mansion had long succumbed to sleep — Jia Kai and Chi Kai in their rooms, resting after a long day of sect duties, and Fatty Lambu sprawled across his bed, snoring thunderously. His satisfied belly rose and fell with each breath, filled to the brim with the Wood family’s exquisite delicacies — golden lotus cakes, steamed phoenix dumplings, and amber spirit wine.
But Mo Han was far from sleep.
Mo Han pressed his thoughts to access the memory of Leo Reynolds.
After spending a great time, Mo Han finally found what he needed.
"The Inner Beast Spirit Arts — the foundation of primal power. Perfect for elder rank cultivators. To command them, one must awaken the sleeping beast within the soul and fuse it with the natural essence of the world."
The sound of Leo Reynolds’ deep voice resonated in Mo Han’s mind, calm and profound. Each word carved itself into his memory as if written in flame.
"The art consists of nine levels. Each level corresponds to a spirit beast — an embodiment of strength, endurance, wisdom, or fury. To master all nine is to transcend the mortal form and become a spirit sovereign — a being no longer bound by human limitations."
The runes pulsed faster, then reformed into images.
At the first level, a great Golden Boar appeared — massive, tusked, its body like molten metal, its hooves shattering the earth beneath it.
"The first level," Leo’s voice continued, "is Golden Boar Spirit — the foundation of raw strength and endurance. The practitioner must temper his body and core with the essence of the earth, drawing power from stability, weight, and resistance. When mastered, the body can channel enough force to crush steel and repel spiritual attacks without defense formations."
Mo Han studied the spectral beast intently. The golden light around it pulsed rhythmically — slow, heavy, and powerful. It wasn’t elegant like a phoenix or agile like a serpent. It was simple — but unstoppable.
"The Golden Boar is not chosen for beauty or finesse," Leo’s voice explained. "It represents unyielding will — the power to move forward even through death. Remember, Inner Beast Arts are not about imitation. You must become the beast in essence — in heart, spirit, and body."
The next series of images flickered briefly — faint shadows of what was to come.
At level two: the Silver Serpent, embodiment of fluidity and precision.
At level three: the Azure Hawk, the spirit of speed and freedom.
At level four: the Crimson Ape, ferocity incarnate.
Level five: the Obsidian Turtle, symbol of defense and regeneration.
Level six: the Emerald Lion, the embodiment of royal aura and leadership.
Level seven: the Violet Wolf, the spirit of hunting and cunning.
Level eight: the Black Dragon, representing authority and elemental mastery.
And finally, at level nine: the White Tiger Emperor — king of inner beasts, whose roar could shake heaven and earth.
Each image lingered for a moment, imprinting itself upon Mo Han’s mind before fading into the next.
Mo Han’s eyes remained closed, his breathing even as he absorbed the vast amount of information pouring through his consciousness.
"Each level," the voice of Leo continued, "requires not only cultivation but understanding. The practitioner must find a compatible spirit essence — a living trace of that beast — and merge it with his inner core. This is not taming, nor summoning. It is communion. A trial of dominance and harmony."
The light dimmed slowly, until only the faint glow of the jade slip remained.
Silence filled the hall again.
Mo Han exhaled. A fine sheen of sweat coated his forehead. Though he hadn’t yet begun practicing, merely receiving the memories was enough to strain the mind of an ordinary cultivator to breaking.
He leaned back slightly, gazing at the candlelight flickering beside him.
"The Golden Boar Spirit..." he murmured under his breath. "The power of earth and endurance. The right foundation."
He recalled the past few days — the political tension from the Golden Crow Syndicate, Elder Mei’s silent warning, and the tournament that would decide not just his own future but the survival of the Eternal Night Mansion. There was no time to wander or experiment. Every step had to be deliberate.
If he was to compete — or even stand a chance — he needed to merge the Sun Piercing Sword with a beast art capable of amplifying his endurance and elemental flow. The Golden Boar’s nature complemented fire — earth fed flame, stabilizing its wildness. It was the perfect starting point.
He reached for the parchment beside him and began writing — not cultivation notes, but plans.
One Month Strategy — Elder Rank Tournament Preparations...
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...
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At the bottom of the parchment, he added another note in smaller letters — one meant only for himself:
Avoid direct attention. The Golden Crow Syndicate may be watching for potential threats. Do not reveal beast arts until necessary.
He sat back, reading the plan again, letting the ink dry in the candlelight.
The mansion was utterly silent around him. Only the low, rhythmic snoring of Fatty Lambu echoed faintly through the walls. Somewhere outside, a night owl called, and the echo faded into the mist.
He closed his eyes once more, and Leo Reynolds’ words lingered in his thoughts.
"The beast within is not your servant. It is you — stripped of doubt, fear, and weakness. To awaken it is to awaken your true self."
Mo Han exhaled slowly, his resolve solidifying like tempered steel.
One month. That was all the time left.
One month to prepare for a tournament that could decide the fate of an entire sect.
He glanced once at the faint light seeping through the window — the first gray touch of dawn. His reflection in the glass looked calm, but behind those dark eyes, something stirred — silent, primal, and waiting to awaken.
Mo Han extinguished the candle. The darkness embraced him — but in that darkness, his mind blazed-brighter than fire.