The sky still burned a stubborn red, dusk trapped and left to stew. No trace of Mu Pei or the others remained. They had chased him for hours, threats flung like stones, but he had refused the bait. Confrontation offered nothing.

  He wasn’t certain he could face all three without drawing on the Black Heart or the weapon reserved for last recourse. To turn a sweep into a duel was waste, not courage. Caution, not cowardice, steered him.

  Those lightning beasts are stronger than I guessed, he thought, dropping lightly from a low branch. The canopy pressed close, the red sky smeared flat above.

  A voice, small and insolent, threaded through his mind—the pup, sulking.

  “What’s so great here? Those lightning beasts—empty shells. Use my Devouring Art right, and you’ll leap further than you think.”

  Xiao Lei didn’t answer aloud. Boasting was the pup’s second skin. Yet the Devouring Art it offered was no trinket. Qi devoured, folded into self—growth forced in leaps no orthodox method could match.

  Stung by silence, the pup sniffed. “Hmph. Doubting me again? If you’d used the Art on those bandits, you’d already be peak ninth stage. No need to run like a dog from children.”

  A corner of Xiao Lei’s mouth twitched. The road was tempting—a single swallow, instant ascent. But his restraint was not caution alone.

  “My strength rose too fast. Swallowing them now would knot my own strength with foreign threads. I want power that outclasses everyone—even you.”

  The pup’s star-lit eyes widened, surprise breaking through boredom. Then it scoffed, teeth flashing. “You? Surpass me? I could devour worlds once I reach my peak. Wait and see, kid—I’ll keep you as my pet.”

  Xiao Lei smiled inwardly, the edge cold. “Oh? Maybe. But for now, that makes you mine.”

  Silence followed, not empty but charged—plans coiled, rules bent toward necessity. Two hungers, side by side.

  He moved on. The forest pressed tight—iron scent, leaf, shadow—while above, the red sky kept its patient watch.

  The deeper Xiao Lei pushed, the heavier the air grew, each breath carrying a metallic bite. The beasts here were no longer scattered threats of the rim—their forms crackled with denser lightning, their movements swift, their strikes edged sharp. Four had already fallen to his arrows, and the flask at his side shimmered with more than forty translucent drops—the distilled essence of their shattered bodies.

  Yet what came easily to him would be near impossible for most. He had weathered the Duskroot Wilds, months of pursuit and ambush by spirit beasts whose cunning outweighed their strength. Every step there had been survival earned by instinct. By contrast, these lightning beasts were blunt, driven things. Dangerous, yes—but predictable. For academy students who had never stalked prey or felt death breathe against their necks, the valley was a labyrinth with teeth.

  Even Mu Pei’s trio, stronger in realm, had been stalled by a herd weaker than any of them alone. Their bluster had bought Xiao Lei the time he needed to vanish. The fact lingered, not as pride, but as proof—experience cut deeper than arrogance.

  Hours stretched. He crossed paths with only two groups; the rest of the academy seemed swallowed whole.

  Perhaps I should look for them, he thought. In these middle stages, alliances rarely broke. Numbers meant safety—or bodies to stand in the path when danger fell.

  He shifted northward, steps light on the underbrush. Then it came.

  At first, a faint murmur—like stone rolling deep in a cavern. Then the sound swelled, a resonance that clawed through bone and soil. Within moments it grew thunderous, as if the sky itself were tearing.

  The valley shivered. Leaves trembled. Pebbles rattled loose. Nearby lightning beasts froze, bodies quaking in terror, arcs sputtering weakly across their hides. They sensed something older, heavier.

  Cultivators scattered across the valley heard it too, unease rising like a breath held in common.

  Xiao Lei stood motionless, pulse tightening, skin prickling as if the sound ran inside his veins. After a long moment, his gaze narrowed, and he turned toward the source—decision crisp as a cut.

  He moved swiftly. The oppressive rumble guided him until the trees thinned and stone cliffs rose like jagged teeth. Between them yawned a cavern mouth, vast and black, swallowing even the red-tinged sky.

  Perched at the cliff’s edge, Xiao Lei stared down. It was less a cave than a wound carved into the mountain. Darkness pressed outward, alive, the rumble pulsing within—steady, dreadful. As if the valley itself were breathing from that single hole.

  “Can you sense what’s inside?” Xiao Lei asked inwardly, voice steady.

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  In the star-flecked void of his mind, the wolf-pup stirred. Its lids stayed heavy, reluctant to rise. Then, with a short huff, its eyes opened—cold light spilling outward as its small body drifted weightless in that endless dark.

  Xiao Lei’s pulse quickened as he gazed down from the cliff’s edge. Could the beast hidden within tie to the sky-grade Lightning Qi? The chance was rare beyond measure. Yet the memory of that earlier roar—the sound that had torn the valley like a rift in the sky—still prickled along his spine. He dared not rush blind.

  The pup’s ears twitched. It wanted to sneer, to bite back at Xiao Lei’s insolence, but held itself. Xiao Lei never asked unless the stakes pressed hard. Its muzzle tightened, playfulness shedding like old fur, and its eyes glowed with sudden gravity.

  “Kid,” it said at last, voice echoing through the void, “I don’t know if you’re blessed or cursed. Inside waits opportunity vast enough to shape your path—or to end it outright.”

  The words settled, but Xiao Lei’s mind clung only to the first half. Danger was no stranger. It was the air he breathed. Back on Earth, life had been coddled by law and order. Here, blood weighed nothing. He had killed men with his own hands—deeds that would have earned death under Earth’s sky. If he could take life, others could take his. That balance no longer shocked him.

  “What opportunity?” His voice quickened, heartbeat tight against his ribs. “Sky-grade Qi?”

  “Yes… and no,” the pup replied, gaze narrowing.

  Xiao Lei frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “No mistake,” the pup said flatly. “There’s a lightning beast inside—an emperor among its kind. Bring it down, and its essence will be enough to summon the prize.”

  His anticipation faltered. Breath left him slow, controlled. So that was all. Essence could be won by persistence—hunt after hunt, or by seizing from others. Why wager his life against an emperor beast for what time and blood could yield?

  “Unless…” His eyes narrowed, suspicion cutting sharp. “You’re holding something back. Aren’t you?”

  The pup’s mouth curved into a knowing grin. “Of course. Do you take me for as much a fool as you? There’s more than essence in that cave. I feel a resonance that doesn’t belong to this valley—an item no less valuable, perhaps greater, than Lightning Qi itself.”

  Xiao Lei did not know what treasure lay hidden, only that it had stripped the pup of its usual mockery and left it solemn. For it to speak with such weight, the thing within had to be priceless. He steadied his breath, forcing the rush in his chest to settle before asking, voice low, “How do we obtain it?”

  The pup’s reply was cool, each word measured. “That is for you to decide. But know this—there is no chance you slay the beast alone. Even if I veil your presence, its senses may pierce through. You walk a razor’s edge.”

  The words sank like a damp shroud. Xiao Lei’s brow furrowed. He could not best the beast outright, nor steal the prize unseen. Both paths ended in death. Then what remained?

  A single thought took root, sharp as a blade. ‘I need a distraction.’

  He crouched low, eyes scanning until they caught a jagged stone near the cliff’s rim. Sliding behind it, he pressed against the cool surface, letting the shadows swallow him whole. Breath stilled, he became as immovable as the stone itself.

  He did not wait long.

  Movement stirred across the opposite cliff. Six figures stepped into view, robes marking them as one faction. Xiao Lei did not know which, nor did he care. They had come from the far side, blind to the cave yawning beneath their feet.

  At their head walked a youth with long hair tied loose, almost feminine in its flow. His gaze swept the valley, sharp but restless. “The sound came from here,” he said, voice carrying the ease of command. “We descend from this side. Stay cautious—numbers are our strength, but the beast may not care.”

  They obeyed, descending with practiced steps into the narrow gorge. Only when one turned and caught sight of the hollow below did their pace falter. “There—it must be the beast’s lair!”

  Greed lit their eyes, though caution smouldered beneath it.

  The leader raised his hand. “We advance, but silently. If it outmatches us, we pull back. Essence Qi is plentiful. Better to live with scraps than die with nothing.”

  Their assent came without words: narrowed eyes, tightened grips on weapons. As one, they slipped toward the cave’s mouth, shadows folding into shadows.

  Only after several breaths did Xiao Lei stir from behind his boulder. The pup’s concealment cloaked him, but habit kept his movements deliberate. Each step downward bent his frame to the cliff’s contours, body folding into the stone’s embrace.

  He neither rushed nor faltered. Patient, silent, he followed—a phantom sliding after them into the darkness where fate waited.

  The cave breathed with a cold stillness, air seeping into Xiao Lei’s skin like damp needles. A faint glow bled from the stone itself, bluish and thin—darkness strained but never broken. Whether it came from mineral, lingering qi, or something stranger, he could not tell. It painted the tunnel in ghostlight, shadows folding long against the jagged walls.

  The passage rose nearly thirty feet high, a cavern throat that coiled with slow intent. Narrow bends gave way to sudden swells, then pinched again, silence pressing heavier with each step. Xiao Lei kept low, footfalls swallowed whole.

  The group ahead moved with care—no voices, no scrape of blade or boot. But their discipline meant little. They advanced blind. He did not.

  Here and there, the stone bore scars: a patch of blackened earth, a jagged streak burned across the wall. Xiao Lei paused, crouching, fingers brushing the char. It crumbled brittle at his touch. Recognition flickered cold across his thoughts. He had seen such marks when lightning beasts dissolved into essence qi.

  Only this was deeper. Hungrier.

  A knot tightened in his chest. If these burns were the beast’s work, then it was not merely surviving—it was devouring its own kind.

  ‘Could it have a will of its own?’

  The thought chilled him more than the cave air. Ordinary lightning beasts were dangerous in their packs, but simple. They lunged, tore, struck—pure ferocity, no plan. But if this emperor beast had carved cunning out of its hunger…

  His hand flexed once at his side, then stilled. A predator that could wait, adapt, deceive—such a thing would not be met with instinct alone.

  The tunnel widened. His musings cut off. Breath caught as the passage spilled into a vast chamber.

  The bluish glow flared brighter here, seeping through veins in the stone, washing the cavern in spectral light.

  Xiao Lei froze. For a heartbeat, even his sharpened mind faltered.

  The scale of the chamber swallowed him whole. His pulse leapt, hammering in the silence, eyes widening despite himself. It was as if the mountain’s heart had been torn open—and he stood at its edge.

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  Destiny Reckoning. It’s set in the same universe, and you definitely don’t want to miss it, because the stories will eventually crossover.