Chapter 20: Light Shroud
This novel is translated and hosted on BCatranslation
Qian Ye stood quietly at the edge of the forest, watching as Qin Ming disappeared into the gloom. He moved with astonishing speed, his black iron warhammer slung across his back and a short sword at his hip. He slipped between the towering trees so quickly that he almost seemed to vanish into thin air, his figure darting through the shadows as if he had wings.
Qin Ming’s heart pounded harder with every step. The nobles from Red Glow City were on their way, and once they arrived at the Great Mountain, they would tear through it in search of valuable spiritual treasures. He couldn’t let them reach the Blood Bamboo Forest first—he simply wouldn’t stand a chance at his second Awakening if they robbed the place of its rare resources.
Although the night fog had mostly cleared, the forest remained dark and hushed. The branches overhead created a ceiling of tangled wood and needles, blocking much of the starlight. Luckily, Qin Ming had keen eyesight and could still see well in the gloom. Shadows crept around him, but he pressed forward, determined.
“The Blood Bamboo Forest can’t be some easy stroll,” Qin Ming muttered under his breath, sounding like a restless teenage boy trying to hide his nerves. “There’s gotta be something nasty guarding it. If it were safe, that Feng Yi An guy and Shao Cheng Feng would’ve made their move ages ago.”
He ran a hand through his hair as tiny snowflakes drifted down, landing on his shoulders and sliding beneath his collar. The sudden chill seemed to settle his racing thoughts. He realised he’d been dashing ahead without thinking, acting like Old Man Liu had the night before, as if he could just grow wings and snatch those frozen blood snakes right away. The silly image made him snort a laugh, but he shook his head to refocus.
“Calm down, man,” he murmured to himself, slowing his steps. “Rushing in is just gonna get me killed. Need to be smart. Even if I can’t score any fancy treasures for my next Awakening, I’ve gotta trust my own strength. Getting all worked up just leads to dumb mistakes.”
As he walked, the snow crunched softly beneath his boots. Bit by bit, he steadied his breathing. He knew danger was coming—after all, even Feng Yi An, who’d already had a second Awakening, hadn’t dared to charge in. The Mountain Patrol hadn’t tried, either. That alone told Qin Ming that the Blood Bamboo Forest was no joke.
Soon, Qin Ming reached a spot he knew well. Kneeling in the snow, he dug into the ground until he unearthed a slim, weathered book wrapped in old leather. He had hidden it here before. Its pages were thin and curled at the edges, a sign that it had been studied time and time again. He wondered where Feng Yi An had stumbled upon such a treasure.
“Reading this stuff should help me keep my head on straight,” Qin Ming said quietly, flipping open the book. Within minutes, he became utterly absorbed in its sword techniques, hunching over the pages in the dim light.
Eventually, he stood up, braced himself against a tree, and began to practise. The hammer that hung across his back might have looked like a heavy, clumsy weapon to anyone else, but to Qin Ming it felt lighter than a walking stick. With the leather book in one hand, he swung the hammer in the other, imagining it as a blade instead of a blunt instrument. He moved with a strange sort of grace, as though dancing with an invisible partner.
He knew that to achieve a proper Awakening, people trained in special methods—Night Meditation Techniques and Breathing Exercises—things that improved strength, speed, and flexibility. But combat skills were about something else: channelling that raw power and speed into effective strikes. Qin Ming’s physical abilities were already impressive, yet his fighting style was mostly self-taught. He had learned a few tricks from older hunters in the village and practised them while surviving in the Great Mountain’s dangerous wilderness.
Real combat experience came not from proper sword lessons but from life-or-death encounters with beasts lurking in the darkness. Qin Ming’s style was wild and unpredictable. He fought the way a cornered animal would, using every ounce of his strength, every scrap of cunning. This was why Feng Yi An had struggled against him—Qin Ming didn’t follow neat patterns or tidy forms. He fought as though rules didn’t exist.
Now, with the sword technique book in hand, Qin Ming tried blending its teachings with his own instincts. Soon he was so caught up in the movements that he half-forgot where he stood. He tested new stances, swinging the hammer as if it were a razor-sharp blade, each move guided by the words scrawled on the ancient pages.
As he moved faster and harder, the forest itself seemed to hold its breath. Snow whirled into the air, stirred by the force of his swings. When he struck a thick tree trunk, it cracked and broke apart with a shocking snap. Nearby creatures, who had been quietly watching this strange human, scrambled away in terror. Even a huge, mutated black tiger—easily four metres long—decided it wanted nothing to do with Qin Ming and vanished into the darkness.
“Hey, you still up there?” Qin Ming called, his voice low and challenging. He had spotted a human-faced vulture circling about twenty metres above the treetops. The monstrous bird hovered, hesitant to leave, as if hoping for a careless moment to strike.
Qin Ming remembered a special move he’d just read about, something called “Throwing Blade.” He didn’t have a real blade, but that didn’t matter. Without a second thought, he whipped his heavy hammer upward. It sliced through the night like a thrown sword, disappearing into the darkness. Then came a gruesome thud, followed by a spray of blood and scattered feathers.
The gigantic vulture, its terrible face twisted in shock, exploded into pieces. The creature’s flesh and bone rained down, leaving nothing but a hideous mess. Other lurking beasts fled as fast as their legs would carry them, no longer daring to spy on this fierce young human who wielded a hammer like a blade.
“Sweet!” Qin Ming grinned, snatching his weapon from the blood-soaked ground and wiping it clean on the snow. The sword technique book had already changed him, showing him how to refine his natural savagery into something more precise and deadly. He felt stronger, swifter, more balanced. The knowledge was like a lantern shining in a dark cave.
He practised for what felt like hours, losing track of time until his limbs ached pleasantly. He had grown stronger—he could feel it in the way his muscles moved and in the sharpness of his mind. The old book truly was a treasure. If Feng Yi An had fully understood its secrets, he would have been far stronger than he was.
The book didn’t stop at sword moves, either. It talked about the Awakening process and something more advanced: “Celestial Light.” Apparently, during a third Awakening, one might unlock a mysterious inner radiance. In a world without sunlight, Celestial Light sounded like a miracle—an inner glow that marked a powerful change in a person’s life force. With it, one could become as strong as a legendary hero, capable of tearing apart vicious beasts with bare hands.
Unfortunately, the book gave no clues about actually cultivating Celestial Light. Qin Ming sighed, feeling that he was peeking into realms he wasn’t yet ready for. Still, he found something practical called “Light Shroud,” a technique that allowed one to hide their life force. High-level beings, it said, had sharp eyes for spiritual energy, able to see who was strong and who was weak just by looking. Awakening made you shine like a torch in the night, impossible to hide—unless you learned to wrap yourself in this Light Shroud.
“Man, I’d better pick this up quick,” Qin Ming said, straightening his shoulders. “If some monster with eagle eyes shows up, I don’t want to be glowing like a lantern for ’em.” He repeated the instructions quietly: “Visualise stillness, be like deadwood, heart cold as ash… fade your life force, hide it away.” It sounded strange, but he’d learned odder things before.
Qin Ming sat down to meditate, focusing until he felt something subtle shift inside him. If he mastered this Light Shroud, he could conceal his strength and avoid unwanted attention. Someday, even if he awakened Celestial Light, he’d be able to hide that glow from prying eyes. It gave him a strange comfort to know that he might slip through the world unnoticed, if he wished.
He smiled ruefully, thinking that maybe he was being too cautious. Who would care about some teenager lurking in the woods? Still, it didn’t hurt to be prepared. The Great Mountain was filled with mysteries, and the nobles from Red Glow City weren’t exactly known for kindness.
“This is enough for one day,” Qin Ming said, dusting off his hands. “No point biting off more than I can chew.” He carefully reburied the old book beneath the snow and soil. After just one session, he had learned so much—he felt as if he’d taken a huge leap forward.
If he were to fight Feng Yi An or Shao Cheng Feng now, Qin Ming was pretty sure he’d have an easier time. What mattered most was that his horizons had expanded. He understood more than ever that true power came from a combination of strength, knowledge, and courage.
“Guess Feng Yi An wasn’t all bad,” Qin Ming said with a smirk as he headed deeper into the forest. “He gave me one heck of a gift.”