C3 Are You Ready?

"The blood has completely fused with your body, giving you such a robust physique."

Upon hearing the old voice, Zhang Hao realized that no matter what he did, the blood could not be separated from his body.

Puzzled, Zhang Hao inquired, "Where are you? How can I hear you but not see you?"

"Kid, want to see me? Just close your eyes."

Following the elder's command, Zhang Hao hesitated briefly before shutting his eyes.

When he came to, he was shocked to find himself in a pitch-black space.

Zhang Hao scanned the area curiously, yet no one was in sight.

"Where are you? Why still can't I see you?"

"I'm right before you. Look up."

As Zhang Hao looked up, terror filled his eyes at the sight of two massive blood-red eyes staring down at him.

"Monster, you're a monster..."

With a startled cry, Zhang Hao bolted, not pausing for a second.

The vague, towering figure stood still momentarily, then transformed into a human shape.

A white-headed elder appeared before Zhang Hao, speaking with tranquility.

"Kid, there's no need to fear. That was my true form you saw."

In the dark space, Zhang Hao, intent on fleeing, saw the white-headed elder ahead and turned to find that the monstrous figure had vanished.

"What do you mean? What is a 'true form'?"

Zhang Hao's voice quivered as he spoke.

"Ah, don't fret. I've already slain the monster from before."

The white-headed elder reassured him after a slight pause.

Relieved by the news that the monster had been defeated, the fear on Zhang Hao's face slowly dissipated.

"Kid, do you wish to grow stronger? To become a warrior? To leave this little village?"

The white-headed elder had posed the question with confidence, not anticipating Zhang Hao's surprising response.

"No, I have no desire to be a warrior, nor to leave Hillfar Village."

"With food and clothing provided in Hillfar Village, why would I ever leave?"

Zhang Hao's unexpected reply left the white-headed elder frowning in confusion.

"Kid, the world outside is so vast. Don't you want to explore it?"

The white-headed elder seemed to forget that the boy before him, Zhang Hao, was only seven years old.

Zhang Hao had no aspirations of becoming a great warrior or anything of the sort.

Upon opening his eyes, Zhang Hao realized he had left the dark space behind.

No matter how the old voice in his mind tried to coax or deceive him into practicing cultivation, Zhang Hao paid it no mind.

He gradually became accustomed to the presence of the ancient voice in his thoughts, yet he never mentioned it to anyone in Hillfar Village.

Zhang Hao was well aware that sharing such things would lead to disbelief from others.

He came to regard the old voice as a friend with whom he could share anything.

The voice eventually understood that, though Zhang Hao had lost his mother, he remained the village's cherished child, doted on by all in Hillfar.

To him, concepts of cultivation or becoming a mighty figure held no meaning.

Thus, the voice ceased its attempts to persuade Zhang Hao to train and simply engaged in regular conversation with him.

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, two years had passed, and Zhang Hao was now nine.

As dusk approached one evening, an urgent matter arose, prompting all the adults in Hillfar to set out on a search.

Upon their return, the village was pierced by Grandma Zhao's gut-wrenching sobs.

Zhang Hao felt an overwhelming fear at the sound of her cries, and only through eavesdropping on the adults' conversation did he learn the tragic news.

Grandpa Zhao had gone up the mountain to gather herbs in the morning and had not returned by evening.

The villagers' search yielded only his herb-filled bamboo basket and his blood-soaked, torn clothing.

Grandpa Zhao had encountered a wild beast while foraging, and not even his bones were left behind after the attack.

Peering through the crack in the door, Zhang Hao saw Grandma Zhao clutching the shredded garments, weeping inconsolably, as tears streamed down his own face.

The gentle smile of Grandpa Zhao and the flood of memories passed through his mind.

Even when his mother died, he had been a clueless three-year-old, unaware of the true meaning of death.

At nine years old, Zhang Hao understood far more than most children his age. He grasped the finality of death, the stark reality that it meant someone could vanish, never to be seen again.

Tears streamed down Zhang Hao's face as he grappled with an unbearable ache in his heart, feeling as though a mountain weighed upon his chest, suffocating him.

In that moment, Grandma Zhao knelt before the villagers of Hillfar, pleading for them to seek vengeance for Grandpa Zhao.

But the people of Hillfar could only speak in tones of helpless resignation. A creature capable of devouring a person whole, bones and all, was surely the work of a Blessed Demonic Beast—against which they stood no chance.

The adults of Hillfar, whose cultivation levels were merely at the early and middle stages of the Foundation Stage, were no match for such a beast.

Confronted by a Blessed Demonic Beast, anyone at the Foundation Stage would falter.

Zhang Hao's fists tightened, his lips clenched so fiercely they bled. With resolve, he slowly rose to his feet, ready to push open the door and step out.

Grandpa Zhao had cherished him since he was small. It was time to seek justice for him.

A wave of anger, like nothing he had ever felt before, surged through him, eclipsing his fear.

"The scent lingering on these clothes suggests it's a demonic beast in the late stages of being Blessed."

"What good is finding it if you can't defeat it?" The aged voice echoed in Zhang Hao's mind just as he rose.

"I must fight, even if I cannot win!" Zhang Hao's teeth were set, his expression fierce as he growled his resolve and pushed through the door.

"Seeking revenge? You'll need to grow stronger. Are you prepared for that?"