Han stepped out of the quiet room, gripping the pup by the scruff of its neck. Bai Ruoyue’s eyes sparkled the moment she saw it.


    “Little Brother, what’s this?”


    “A dog,” Han said, handing it over. “Play with it for a bit.”


    “Oh, right—who’s looking for me?”


    “People from the Shenhua Sect and the Dong family. They’re here to visit Taibai Martial Hall. Third Brother’s been hosting them, but they asked to meet you too.”


    Bai Ruoyue took the pup, gleefully ruffling its head. The little beast squirmed, yipping and pawing toward Han, as if begging for a rescue from her enthusiastic clutches. Help me, master!


    “Pretty clever little thing,” she chuckled.


    “Yeah, Senior Sister, mind it for me—I’ll be back.”


    “No worries, off you go!” She didn’t even glance at him, totally engrossed in tormenting the pup.


    The visitors from Shenhua Sect and the Dong family weren’t here to stir trouble—they were downright friendly, chatting with Han like old buddies. Compared to the Tianlong Gate crew’s attitude, these folks were a breath of fresh air. Whatever their true intentions, they kept it polite, so Han matched their vibe. A good start for future dealings.


    After seeing them off, Han dug into the beast Mandate, hunting for intel on his new pet. He found it—and his brow creased hard.


    The so-called “pinnacle of Ding Six Beast Arena” was a mashup of every standout beast bloodline from the Arena’s history—wild ones, demon strains, all stuffed into this egg. A genetic free-for-all, basically. The egg itself came from the Arena’s most successful, mightiest beast—a prime vessel for this bloodline chaos.


    Logic said such a wild mix should’ve flopped—either dead on arrival or some deformed mess, hardly a “top achievement.” But there was a twist: the Arena team had used a treasure hauled from Tianming Sect’s main base to balance and fuse the mess into something cohesive. Instead of dying from clashing bloodlines, the egg thrived.


    The catch? That made its outcome a total wildcard—what kind of beast, which bloodline, what species? No one knew. Han’s drop of Creation Spirit Liquid had tweaked it further, shifting its essence again. Pinning down its race? Good luck—no precedent here.


    Calling it a dog wasn’t wrong, though. But Han leaned toward “qilin.” Yep—the treasure that tied it together was a drop of qilin true blood.


    Qilins were mythic—rarer than dragons or phoenixes these days, more fable than fact. Yet their repute and power were rock-solid, matching or even topping those legends with a unique mystique. Qilin: bringer of fortune.


    Han hadn’t dreamed Tianming had something like that stashed away. True blood wasn’t just any sludge—only the king of orthodoxies could hoard such a prize. One drop had birthed Ding Six’s ultimate creation.


    Reading that, Han’s excitement spiked. This pup’s roots were unreal—qilin blood plus a Spirit Liquid boost? Its future shimmered with potential. That’s a super beast right there!


    When he tracked it down, the pup was romping with Bai Ruoyue—no trace of its earlier panic, now a shameless lapdog, all wags and grins. She tossed stuff; it darted to fetch. Han’s face darkened as he yanked it up by the scruff for a serious talk.


    “You’re a qilin, got it? A qilin! No more acting like a mutt!”


    “Woo-woo-woo!” it whined.


    Bai Ruoyue snatched it back, cradling and petting it. “Qilin?” she asked, wide-eyed. “For real, Little Brother? Looks like a puppy to me.”


    “It’s from that beast egg I got,” Han explained. “The Mandate says it’s fused with qilin true blood.”


    “Whoa, this little guy’s got a backstory!” She held it up, locking eyes. Its gaze sparkled with pure clarity.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    All day, aside from training, Han studied the pup. It was a hyper bundle of energy, glued to Bai Ruoyue—she loved playing with it. But when Shen Long and the others tried petting it, the pup bristled, wary and standoffish, nothing like its instant bond with her. Only after Han vouched for them did it warm up, mingling with the crew. Still, it clearly favored Bai Ruoyue over everyone but Han.


    That night, back at the peach grove, it met Lu Qingmo and went full docile—no guard up at all. Han was floored. What drove its instincts? Instant trust with Mo and Bai Ruoyue, but caution with Shen Long’s gang—despite all being close to him?


    Pondering, he landed on two possibilities. One: Mo and Bai Ruoyue had shared intimate moments with him. Two: both bore the Wing of the Heart. Either could explain it.


    “Qilin blood?” Lu Qingmo stared at the pup—tongue out, spinning circles, flopping to show its belly—and went quiet. This is a qilin?


    Han coughed, sheepish. “It’s a new bloodline mixed with qilin true blood—some quirks are normal. That’s what the Mandate says.”


    “If it’s really got qilin true blood, it’s no lightweight—tons of potential,” she conceded. “Nowadays, qilins are a myth—even in the Mountain-Sea Domain, no sign of them. Maybe we humans just can’t dig deep enough to know. But that bloodline’s promise is undeniable, especially fused with other top-tier demon and beast strains. Its ceiling’s a mystery.”


    Han sighed. “Too bad it’s a baby—can’t do much for me yet.” A pure juvenile qilin would’ve been a game-changer, but this mix, with just a drop of true blood, wasn’t flexing much muscle now. Keeping him amused was more its speed.


    “Don’t sleep on qilin blood,” Lu Qingmo warned. “Beasts like that grow fast—and if it taps that bloodline, it’ll surge ahead in no time.”


    She shook her head. “It’s an auspicious beast. Even if it’s not a pure qilin, keeping it close could bring good vibes—put simply, it boosts your luck.”


    “Neat perk…” Han trailed off. He had other luck tricks already. Too many tools, too many toys—life’s tough.


    “I’m off to train. Aunt Mo, mind it for me?” The pup lunged to follow, but Lu Qingmo pinned it with a mental nudge.


    Once Han sank into cultivation, she scooped it up, teasing it with a finger, a rare smile slipping out. What woman could resist a newborn, fluffy, adorable pup? “Qilin blood—hope you evolve into the real deal someday.”


    An Lang drifted over, eyeing it with curiosity. The pup didn’t flinch—cool as ever.


    Mid-training, Han checked his natal artifact. It’d been munching on the Earth God Stone and Celestial Gold for days—tough Yin God materials, packed with juice, keeping it quiet. Now, only scraps remained. Tonight, it’d finish.


    Only then could he use Awakening Spirits. At midnight, a tremor rippled through his soul. He peered inward.


    A small tree zipped out, hovering in his soul realm—transformed. The stubby branch had grown into a full, glossy purple trunk, radiating power. The artifact had ascended—sublimated. Just looking at it screamed authority.


    As its master, Han felt the shift: its core had evolved. Once a Day Roaming-grade tool, it’d gorged on Day Roaming and Manifestation treasures, plus two Yin God materials. Now, it was a full-blown Manifestation artifact—while he was still Day Roaming. Natal artifacts were special—less drain, more punch. Freshly ascended, it could rival gear seasoned Manifestation cultivators had nursed for years.


    Joy surged in Han. His first Manifestation artifact—a big deal. But the transformation wasn’t done.


    A tiny bud sprouted on the purple trunk, green and yellow, glowing softly. It swelled, blooming under his gaze—into a sword. Yellow hilt, green blade, light dancing across it. Earth’s weight and sky’s majesty hit him, shouting its extraordinariness.


    Han froze. A tool blooming like a tree was odd enough—now it fruited a sword? His artifact was wild.


    He sensed total control. With a thought, the sword detached, swelling to normal size, exuding a fearsome aura. Another nudge, and it shrank back onto the trunk.


    “…” What if it keeps eating materials, sprouting branches—and more gear? “One artifact, multiple forms—pretty handy.” No more worries about limited gear options.


    It was a pure attack weapon—Manifestation-grade, born from his artifact. Two Manifestation tools in one go. Wielding it tapped the artifact’s divine light, boosting its might. Plus, the sword’s birth tweaked that light—already amped by the ascent, it now had a perk: extra juice against swords or sword arts, offensively or defensively. Blocking a non-sword hit at ten? It’d stop a sword at eleven, twelve, or more. Sword-slayer, sword-shield vibes.


    Han grinned—perfect. Swords ruled修士 gear—fast, precise, lethal, easy to craft. He’d just become their nightmare. “Sweet haul.”


    The sword had room for more—etch a Taoist art onto it for another kick. “It’s my natal artifact—sticking with me forever. The art’s gotta be elite, or it’ll drag it down.”


    Choice was clear: Earthfire Seal or Righteous Hand Seal—his top-tier arts. He mulled it over. Yin-Yang Earthfire flared; rainbow Righteous Qi swept his soul realm. The sword drifted between them. Would it pick?


    It plunged into the Righteous Qi.


    “Huh, it’s got taste.” Earthfire faded; the qi swaddled and refined it. Han held off, thinking. “Etching Righteous Hand means a trip to the Academy of Sages someday…”


    The Hand Seal was a public gem from the Academy—Day Roaming and Manifestation tiers only. Higher secrets stayed locked there, near-impossible to snag outside. “Plenty of road ahead. I’ve only got these two killer arts—Hand now or Fire later, but I’ll need Hand when the next branch grows. No difference. I’ll grab the rest someday—alive and kicking.”


    Let’s roll, crew! Decision locked, he didn’t hesitate. He carved the Righteous Hand Seal’s chants, meanings, and methods into the blade, bathing it in endless Righteous Qi. The sword morphed visibly—ready to rumble.