The forest swallowed the light.
The trail beneath Fang Xi's feet narrowed quickly, turning from packed snow to twisted roots and brittle underbrush. Trees loomed like ancient watchers, their bark gnarled and slick with frost. Mist clung low to the ground, curling around their boots, hiding jagged rocks and half-buried animal tracks.
Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.
But the sound was wrong.
It carried a second voice — not echo, but mimicry. A second pitch layered beneath the first.
"Shadow-fanged hounds," Fang Xi thought, eyes narrowing. "Mimic howls to confuse prey. They're closer than they should be."
Chen Zhi, trudging beside him, exhaled loudly. "Creepy place. Feels like even the trees are watching us."
They'd been walking nearly an hour now — deeper into the Beast Forest, guided only by a battered wooden map Elder Gan had pressed into Chen Zhi's hands.
Zone B was a crescent-shaped ridge east of the Old Spirit Well — known for low-tier snow spiders, frost-scaled rabbits, and, occasionally, the more dangerous bone-feathered lynxes.
"Which means the sect expects losses here. Or at least injuries."
"A place to test courage, not technique."
And yet, Fang Xi's breath was calm. Focused.
Every step was a calculation.
Every glance, a silent recording.
They moved silently along the ridge.
To their left, frost-covered bramble. To the right, a sheer drop into a frozen gulch. One misstep, and a body wouldn't be found till spring.
"Good killing ground," Fang Xi noted.
"Zhao Min will likely patrol west. If I lead him here tomorrow…"
"No. Too early."
"I still need more strength. One more Qi thread. One more tool."
Chen Zhi stopped suddenly, raising a hand.
Fang Xi followed his gaze.
Fresh claw marks on the bark of a pine tree — four deep grooves, splayed wide. Too wide for a rabbit. Too deep for a lynx.
They exchanged a glance.
"Did we bring blood-ink talismans?" Fang Xi asked.
Chen Zhi grimaced. "One each. Elder Gan said they only work if the beast's under first tier."
"Barely useful."
"We were sent in with pebbles to face blades."
Still, Fang Xi crouched beside the claw marks and touched the lowest groove. Fresh. Sap still leaking. The direction pointed downhill — toward a split in the ridge.
He stood.
"We go that way."
Chen Zhi hesitated. "Isn't that off our route?"
Fang Xi didn't answer.
He just walked.
Half an hour later, they reached the ridge split — a shallow clearing surrounded by dead stumps and frozen shrubs. A small stone pile marked the halfway point of Zone B.
Fang Xi crouched again and placed his hand flat against the ground.
Still warm.
Slightly.
He pulled it back and stood.
"They were here recently. Two-legged. Not beasts."
"Disciples?" Chen Zhi asked.
Fang Xi nodded slowly. "Likely Azure Cloud."
They were not alone.
A crack echoed through the trees — sharp, sudden.
Then another.
Chen Zhi drew his axe. Fang Xi ducked low, moving behind a fallen log.
Silence.
And then: voices. Distant but clear.
"…I told you, you should have aimed for the leg! Now it ran—"
"Shut up and light the second talisman! It's circling!"
Azure Cloud disciples.
And something hunting them.
Fang Xi's eyes flicked toward the source. He didn't move. He simply listened.
Rustling. Then a wet, heavy thud. A scream — short, choked.
Chen Zhi's face went pale. "Should we help?"
Fang Xi said nothing.
Not for a long moment.
Then: "We observe."
They circled carefully, staying out of sight.
In the center of a trampled patch of brush lay one Azure Cloud disciple — body half-shredded, robes soaked in blood. The head turned at an unnatural angle.
The second disciple was nowhere in sight. Only tracks — running, stumbling — toward the east.
And in the bloodstained snow stood something else.
A low, gray beast. The size of a hunting dog. Bone-like ridges along its back. Its eyes shimmered faintly violet — the mark of a first-tier spirit beast.
A Silver-Tongue Jackal.
Fang Xi recognized it at once.
"Rare variant. Intelligent. Feeds on wounded prey. Known to imitate the voices of men."
"More dangerous than it looks."
He turned to Chen Zhi.
"Back away slowly. Don't run."
They moved silently — breath held, steps measured — until the trees swallowed the clearing again.
Only when the jackal was out of sight did Fang Xi speak.
"We'll report the sighting. Say we found the remains, but saw no movement. The Azure Cloud elder will lose face. He'll retaliate through politics, not fists."
Chen Zhi blinked. "You… think of all that?"
Fang Xi looked at him and said, "We're in the wilderness. But the real predators wear robes."
By late afternoon, they'd found two frost rabbits and left a trap for a snow spider. Nothing of value. But enough to fulfill minimal expectations.
Fang Xi kept the map. Marked the clearing.
"Tomorrow, I return."
"That jackal… it's mine."
As they neared the southern gate again, the sky deepened to gold and ash. The wind grew still.
And far behind them, in the woods, something howled again.
Only this time… it spoke.
Just one word.
Whispered. Mocking.
"Chen…"
Chen Zhi froze in his tracks.
"What… did you hear that?"
Fang Xi said nothing.
But deep inside, he smiled.
"Now you fear it."
"Tomorrow, you'll follow me without question."
"And when the moment comes, I'll decide who lives — and who doesn't."