The caravan was forced to halt as freezing rain lashed down upon them once again, the icy downpour threatening to turn their journey into a treacherous slog. But this time, Kai was prepared. The heavy tarps and tents he had crafted from layered hides and treated leather held strong against the onslaught, keeping everyone dry and protected. Their choice to camp near one of the boiling lakes proved fortuitous—the geothermal heat radiating from the churning waters kept the immediate area just warm enough that the rain fell as liquid rather than freezing into deadly sheets of ice.

  Yet, the contrast was stark. Just beyond the lake's influence, Kai could see the rain hardening into a glittering, frozen veil, coating the landscape in a brittle shell. It was as if they stood within a pocket of defiance against the land’s harsh will—a temporary refuge granted by the earth’s own breath.

  When the freezing rain had first begun, Snow’s ears had pricked up, his body tensing as if preparing to summon another protective ice dome. Kai had immediately placed a hand on the wolf’s flank, stopping him before he could drain himself again.

  "Not this time," Kai murmured, scratching behind Snow’s ears. "We don’t need you collapsing for another month. The tents will do."

  Snow huffed but relented, though his blue eyes remained watchful, tracking the storm with quiet vigilance.

  The makeshift shelters were far from luxurious—dampness clung to the air, and the constant drumming of rain on leather made conversation difficult—but they served their purpose. No one was freezing. No one was in danger. That was enough.

  Through their journey, the landscape began to shift in unmistakable ways. More boiling lakes appeared, their steaming surfaces dotting the terrain like cauldrons set into the earth. If there had been any lingering doubt that they had reached Northend, it vanished with each new geothermal wonder they encountered.

  Their journey up to this point had taken over a month and a half—a feat made possible only by their relentless pace and the spirit beasts’ endurance. But now, the land itself confirmed their arrival.

  Yet, it wasn’t just the lakes that signaled their proximity to Northend’s heart. The very foliage around them seemed to swell in size, as if the land itself had been touched by some ancient, enlarging magic.

  Trees that should have been modest in stature instead towered like the mythical redwoods from Kai’s dreams as Mike—colossal trunks stretching skyward, their canopies so dense they blotted out the sun. And with every mile they traveled, the vegetation grew even more imposing. Vines as thick as a man’s arm coiled around bark-ridged giants, and ferns unfurled in broad, prehistoric fronds large enough to serve as makeshift roofs.

  Even the waterways defied expectation. Every stream, every pond, every river they crossed bore the telltale signs of geothermal activity—warm mist curling off the surface, bubbles rising from hidden depths. It was as if Northend had no concept of cold, still water. Here, the land itself simmered.

  Kai couldn’t help but marvel at the implications. Such rampant geothermal activity suggested a land rich in energy—energy that could be harnessed, utilized. The towering flora hinted at soil potent with nutrients, capable of sustaining life on a scale unseen elsewhere in Zan.

  Thus far, the group had encountered no living creatures during their travels—not because the land was empty, but because the presence of Kai’s spirit beasts acted as an invisible deterrent. The lesser animals of Northend, no matter how massive, instinctively recognized danger and kept their distance.

  But when Igni, ever the relentless hunter, ventured out alone and returned with his kill, the sheer scale of Northend’s wildlife became undeniable.

  Dragged behind the great tiger was a boar—or at least, what should have been a boar. Instead, it was a monstrous thing, its bulk easily surpassing a thousand pounds. Its coarse, bristled hide was thick enough to turn aside most blades, and its tusks—each as long as a man’s forearm—bore the scars of countless territorial battles.

  Lu Bu, who had been training with his practice spear nearby, went rigid at the sight. His knuckles whitened around the shaft of his weapon, his breath hitching just slightly. The memory of his near-fatal encounter with a boar months ago—back when he was still a starving orphan—flashed behind his eyes. That beast had nearly killed him.

  And this one was bigger.

  Yet, for Kai and his spirit beasts, this was no cause for fear, but celebration.

  A single kill like this could feed the carnivorous beastkin for days. And with the abundance of oversized, nutrient-rich plant life, even the herbivores among them thrived, grazing on leaves and roots as thick as their limbs.

  For normal mortals, Northend would be a death sentence—a land where even the prey could crush a man beneath its weight. But for Kai’s group? It was a land of plenty.

  But such abundance came with mysteries.

  Why were the creatures here so massive? Was it something in the water—the boiling lakes that seemed to infuse the land with unnatural vitality?

  Kai’s mind circled back to the possibility of cultivation experiments of a forgotten sect. He had heard tales of sects that sought to enhance beasts, to warp nature itself in pursuit of power. But, he hadn’t heard about anything like that occurring in Zan.

  Kai had crouched by the edge of the boiling lake near their camp, cupping the steaming water in his hands. He had expected the sharp tang of sulfur or the metallic bite of minerals—something to explain the unnatural heat radiating from its depths. But as he brought it to his lips, the water tasted... clean. Pure. Almost unnaturally so.

  He frowned, letting the liquid trickle between his fingers.

  From his dreams of Earth, he remembered that geothermal springs were typically rich in dissolved minerals—iron, sulfur, calcium—giving them a distinct, often unpleasant taste. Yet this water was as fresh as if it had been drawn from a mountain glacier.

  That shouldn't be possible.

  If not geothermal activity, then what was heating these lakes?

  His first thought was natural qi—some rare place of concentrated energy that created this phenomena. But that made no sense. Northend, like the rest of Zan, was a spiritual wasteland. The ambient qi was so thin it might as well not exist.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  So what, then?

  Another mystery Kai encountered a few days ago as they traveled deeper into Northend—towering spires of raw stone and metal jutting from the earth like the bones of some long-dead colossus.

  These "mineral pillars," as Zhang Liao called them, stood twenty feet tall, their surfaces rough and jagged where they had burst through the ground. Some were dark with iron deposits, others streaked with veins of copper and traces of rarer ores.

  "Windriders mine them sometimes when we find them," Zhang Liao had explained. "The settlements south of Northend pay well for good metal, especially this far north."

  Kai studied the formations, baffled. In the cultivation world, such concentrated mineral deposits were usually the result of areas of concentrated natural qi—but again, Kai thought that wasn't possible here.

  Yet again, neither his knowledge from the cultivation world nor his dreams of Earth offered an explanation.

  Northend was proving to be a place of contradictions.

  Water that boiled without minerals.

  Metal that surged from the earth unbidden.

  Flora and fauna that dwarfed their southern counterparts.

  It was as if the land itself operated on different rules—principles Kai couldn't yet grasp.

  Kai turned away from the boiling lake, his boots crunching softly against the damp earth as he made his way back toward camp. The freezing rain continued its relentless assault, but under the heavy tarps and hides they had stretched overhead, the group had managed to carve out a dry sanctuary. Countless spirit beasts huddled together beneath the makeshift canopy, their massive forms radiating warmth as they curled around one another, creating a living barrier against the cold.

  At the center of camp stood a large teepee-like tent—a design Kai had borrowed from his dreams of Earth. Sturdy wooden poles formed its framework, wrapped tightly in layers of treated leather and insulated with thick furs. It was far more spacious than their usual shelters, and more importantly, it could contain a fire without suffocating everyone inside.

  Kai pulled aside the heavy flap covering the entrance, and the warmth of the interior rushed out to greet him.

  Inside, the human members of the caravan had gathered around a crackling fire, its glow casting flickering shadows across the tent’s walls. A few of the smaller spirit beasts had nestled close to the flames, their eyes half-lidded in contentment. Snow and Igni had somehow managed to squeeze their massive forms inside as well, their presence dominating the space but adding much-needed heat.

  Lulu reclined against Igni’s side, using the great tiger as an oversized cushion while she cradled Soma in her arms. The rabbit spirit beast wore an expression of long-suffering annoyance as Lulu idly stroked her fur, cooing softly.

  Ever since discovering that Soma’s could cure her insomnia, Lulu had become borderline obsessive, doting on the creature at every opportunity. Soma, for her part, tolerated the attention with the patience of a saint—though she occasionally retaliated by forcibly putting Lulu to sleep, just to get a moment’s peace.

  Not that Lulu minded. After years of sleepless nights, she welcomed the sudden slumbers Soma induced—even if they came at the rabbit’s whim.

  In the corner of the tent, Gin sat surrounded by a cluster of playful spirit beast pups, their tiny forms tumbling over each other as they vied for his attention. He chuckled, swigging from his gourd as he watched them wrestle, seemingly unbothered by their antics.

  Near the fire, Kai’s three disciples sat in quiet companionship—Lu Bu poking at the flames to keep them steady, Chen Gong scribbling notes in his ever-present manual, and Zhang Liao silently observing, his sharp eyes missing nothing.

  All of them looked up as Kai entered, their expressions shifting to various degrees of curiosity and expectation.

  For a moment, there was only the sound of the fire and the distant drumming of rain against the tent.

  Then—

  "Well?" Lulu drawled, arching a brow. "Figure out why the water’s boiling yet?"

  Kai exhaled, shaking his head. "Not even close."

  A beat.

  Then Gin raised his gourd in a lazy toast. "To Northend—where nothing makes sense, but at least the food’s big."

  A chuckle rippled through the group, tension easing into familiar camaraderie.

  Lulu continued stroking Soma’s fur, though the rabbit spirit beast squirmed in clear annoyance, her nose twitching as she tried in vain to wriggle free. "So, what’s the plan now that we’re in Northend?" Lulu asked, ignoring Soma’s struggles. "Do we look for one of the few communities that exist here?"

  Kai considered the question for a moment before shaking his head. "Not necessarily. I wouldn’t mind living in isolation, far from any human settlement. That was my original plan—just me, the wilderness, and my beastkin." He glanced around the tent, his gaze lingering on Gin. "But if anyone wants to separate and join a community, we can search for one."

  Gin, who had been half-listening while entertaining a pack of playful spirit beast pups, suddenly stiffened as he noticed Kai’s pointed look. "What? You trying to kick me out already?"

  Kai shrugged. "You said you just wanted to travel with me as far north as possible when we met. Well, we’re about as far north as we can go."

  Gin scowled, waving his flabby arms in exaggerated emphasis. "Yeah, but I can’t exactly defend myself against the giant beasts lurking around here, can I? Remember, I’ve got the toughness of a Qi Gathering cultivator, but none of the actual strength."

  "I’m sure we can find a settlement willing to take you in, if that’s what you want," Kai offered.

  Gin hesitated, then sighed, scratching one of the pups behind the ears. The little creature leaned into his touch, its tail wagging furiously. "In all honesty… I’d rather stick with you, if that’s an option. As long as I’m not alone, I don’t really care where I live. And… I’ve grown a little fond of some of these fluffballs."

  Kai nodded. "Okay."

  Gin blinked. "Just like that? You’re not going to argue or insist I leave?"

  "Nope."

  Gin narrowed his eyes. "I thought I annoyed you. You don’t exactly hide it."

  Kai smirked. "Sure, you’re annoying. But you’ve also been useful. The best practice dummy I could ask for." He gestured toward the three disciples, who had paused their quiet conversation to listen. "Without you around, we’d have to test some of their techniques on me—and while I can take the hits, it’s not exactly fun."

  Gin’s mouth dropped open in mock offense. "Oh, ha ha. So I’m just a training dummy now?"

  Kai shrugged again. "Well, I’m sure that’s not all you’re good for. But if you start pulling your weight more—helping with camp, hunting, gathering—then maybe I’ll consider you more than just a living punching bag."

  "Fat chance of that happening," Lulu muttered, still cradling a disgruntled Soma.

  Gin grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue further.

  Kai then turned to Lulu. "And I assume you still plan to stick around?"

  Lulu tightened her grip on Soma, who let out an indignant squeak. "Wherever Soma goes, I go."

  Kai arched a brow but didn’t comment. Instead, he looked to his three disciples. "And I’m guessing none of you three want to change our arrangement?"

  All three nodded—Lu Bu with his usual stoic determination, Chen Gong with quiet confidence, and Zhang Liao with a hesitant but firm agreement.

  Kai exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Then the plan is simple. We keep moving north until we find the perfect spot—somewhere with resources, shelter, and enough space for all of us. Once we do, we’ll build a permanent home."

  A home.

  Not just a camp, not just a temporary refuge—but a place they could call their own.

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