C3 In the Stomach of the Demonic Beast

Time seemed to stretch on indefinitely when Feng Yimo suddenly felt a jolt, followed by a violent shaking. The cow carcass beneath him had been mostly dissolved by the stomach acid, and now, as the shaking intensified, the corrosive liquid washed over his calves, bringing an immediate searing pain. Realizing the giant serpent was on the move, Yimo frantically searched for something to hold onto, but the creature's stomach lining was as slick as glass, offering no purchase. Despair gripped him. Was he to perish in the belly of a beast just after his memories had returned?

In the midst of his panic, an opening appeared above in the stomach lining, and something dropped through. Yimo quickly dodged to the side, and with a splash, more gastric fluid scattered as another whole cow tumbled in. Relief flooded him, and he wasted no time scrambling atop the fresh carcass. The simple acts of dodging and climbing left him gasping for air, a testament to his weakened state—a result of his prolonged unconsciousness and inability to eat. Had it not been for the Spirit Devouring Silkworm's autonomous absorption of faint spiritual energy, he would've been dead already.

Now spared from the burning bath of digestive juices, Yimo seized the opportunity to cultivate. But his rebellious stomach growled in protest. Glancing at the cow beneath him, he steeled himself, took up his spiritual weapon, and plunged it into the flesh. The blade sliced through the tough hide as if it were mere paper, and warm blood flowed freely. He pressed his mouth to the wound, swallowing the blood in desperate, gulping mouthfuls. The taste was metallic and foul, nearly impossible to stomach, yet he persisted, driven by sheer survival instinct.

After consuming more than twenty mouthfuls of blood and feeling a comforting warmth spread through his belly, he ceased his grim feast and settled into a meditative posture.

Thus, whenever hunger struck, Yimo would drink from the cow, and when the blood ran dry, he'd tear into the raw meat. Slowly but surely, his strength began to return. Eventually, he could wield his sword without a tremor. He even attempted to pierce the serpent's stomach lining with his blade, but despite the sword's tip sinking into the flesh, it failed to break through. Left with no other choice, Yimo continued his grim existence within the confines of the stomach.

Fortunately, Feng Yimo occasionally witnessed cattle, and even a tiger, being devoured by the giant snake demon beast. The nourishment from the tiger's blood and flesh accelerated his recovery. Once the spirit energy infused his body, his resistance to the corrosive power of the snake's gastric juices significantly improved. Though the Spirit Devouring Silkworm absorbed all the spirit energy, the physical transformation was undeniable. His limbs' muscles began to swell. He was not yet back to his normal state, but at least he was no longer skin and bones. Touching his cheek, he could feel flesh beneath his fingers—no longer would anyone mistake him for a ghost. But the question remained: when would he be able to escape?

With time on his hands, Feng Yimo spent his moments aside from meditating and cultivating by rummaging through the gastric juices with his spiritual tool. To his delight, he found an undissolved Storage Bag. He was thrilled, though he lacked the Divine Sense needed to open it and had to content himself with tucking it away for later.

...

On that particular day, as Feng Yimo sat in meditation, his world turned upside down. The stomach's contents, including undigested animal remains, were thrown into chaos. Before he could gather his wits, the stomach constricted, the space narrowing so much that even his slight frame struggled to draw breath, and the bones of the corpses beside him snapped and crumbled.

In desperation, he positioned his treasured sword to brace against the pressure, but it began to warp and soon snapped with a sharp crack. Feng Yimo couldn't help but smile bitterly at the irony—he had once thought to use that very sword to pierce through the snake's belly and escape, yet it had failed to withstand even this test.

Left with no other option, he mustered all his strength to endure. He was tossed and turned within the snake's body for hours, feeling as if his body was coming apart at the seams, barely clinging to life.

Then, out of nowhere, a beam of light pierced the darkness of the stomach. Blinded by the sudden brightness, he squinted shut his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw the snake had stilled, its body growing cold. A gash about ten feet long had appeared, the source of the light. With every ounce of energy left in him, he clawed his way through the wound and collapsed on the ground, utterly drained. As he lifted his head and took in his surroundings, he was struck with utter amazement.

Before him lay a colossal serpent, its height rivaling that of a small mountain, coiled upon itself. In its midst was an immense falcon, standing about 70 feet tall with wings spanning over 100 feet. It was barely clinging to life, having used its sharp talons to rip open the serpent's belly, a feat that had allowed Feng Yimo to make his escape.

Having rested briefly and regained some energy, Feng Yimo struggled to his feet and brandished the half-grade spirit artifact in his hand, hacking into the dead serpent's body with all his might. He was determined to rescue the falcon. With the serpent no longer alive, its once iron-hard body had softened, and Feng Yimo's treasured blade made quick work of it, sending flesh and blood flying. He swiftly severed the thick body of the snake, freeing the ensnared falcon, before collapsing to the ground himself, gasping for air.

The falcon nibbled at the snake flesh, issuing a series of jubilant cries as it regained its strength. Its sharp claws tore at the snake's carcass, and with a powerful peck, it retrieved a gallbladder, swallowing it whole. With a vigorous flap of its wings, the falcon whipped up a fierce wind and soared into the clouds, vanishing from sight.

Feng Yimo chuckled, feeling a sense of balance restored. He had saved the falcon, and in turn, it had saved him; they were now even.

After another short rest, he rose and approached the serpent's head, recognizing it as a Gold Horned Green Python, a second-tier, low-rank Demonic Beast, on par with a human at the Foundation Establishment stage. This indicated that the falcon was no ordinary creature. Had the horn on the python's forehead fully developed, signaling its advancement, the falcon would have stood no chance, and Feng Yimo would have been trapped forever, possibly meeting his end within the python's belly.

Climbing atop the massive head, he used his sword to sever the horn and carefully removed scales the size of an adult's palm. These were valuable treasures; the horn could be crafted into an offensive spiritual weapon, and the scales into defensive gear. Even if he had no use for them, he could sell them for spirit stones.

Feng Yimo slid off the snake's body and peeled away another swath of its skin, lamenting that without access to his Storage Bag, he couldn't strip the entire hide, which would have made excellent material for defensive inner armor. He knew that a Level Two Demonic Beast might harbor an inner core, so he delved into the python's carcass in search of this prize, only to emerge empty-handed and disappointed. That's when he spotted the falcon overhead, a tree clutched in its beak.

Upon noticing Yimo, the falcon released its grip, and the tree plummeted to the ground. With a sharp cry, the bird took to the skies once more.

Startled, Yimo leapt aside and discovered that the fallen tree bore fruits of red and green, each the size of an egg and exuding a fragrant scent. The fruits were enveloped in spiritual energy, radiating an ethereal aura, with over twenty ripe specimens hanging from the branches.

"This... this is the Red and Green Apricot, a first-grade Spiritual Fruit!" Yimo was astonished. The falcon had shown its gratitude by bestowing such a rare gift upon him.

The Red and Green Apricot, also known as the Blood Strength Fruit, was aptly named. Consuming the red half could bolster one's vitality and fortify the body, its potency rivaling that of century-old ginseng. The green half was known to enhance physical strength, and regular consumption could endow a cultivator with boundless power.

Without a moment's hesitation, Yimo plucked a fruit and devoured it in just a few bites. He then settled into a meditative pose to assimilate the fruit's medicinal properties. The Blood Strength Fruit truly lived up to its reputation. As the fruit's essence flowed into him, he felt a surge of warmth radiating from his core to his extremities. But before he could revel in the sensation, the heat reversed course, rushing back to his dantian where the tiny Spirit Devouring Silkworm eagerly consumed it, leaving Yimo in agonizing frustration, nearly at the brink of spitting blood.

Despite the overwhelming spiritual power, a small portion managed to seep into his being. His blood churned with renewed vigor, teeming with life, and his strength swiftly rejuvenated.