Unlike Spiritual Beasts—who could grow to rival the intelligence of humans or the Varnari—Demonic Beasts were fundamentally different. They lacked sentience. Even at terrifying levels of strength, they remained creatures of instinct. No matter how long they cultivated, the vast majority would never cross that boundary. Only through a heaven-defying opportunity could one evolve into a true Spiritual Beast. But such transformations were exceedingly rare.

And so, most Demonic Beasts remained as they were: primal beings of bloodlust and aggression, particularly hostile toward intelligent life. Humans, Varnari, Spiritual Beast clans—none were spared their wrath. That innate hostility, amplified by overwhelming numbers, was what made a Demonic Beast Tide so devastating.

In most cities, the mere mention of such a tide would trigger immediate concern. Even with strong defenses, casualties were unavoidable.

But Savagefang City was different.

Situated at the gateway of the Savagefang Mountain Range, it had long served as both barrier and bulwark. Since its founding, the city had endured over a hundred tides. Here, such threats didn’t cause panic. They were expected—almost routine.

Still, routine didn’t mean safety.

The tides came at irregular intervals. Sometimes twice in a single decade, sometimes silent for generations. No fixed pattern existed—only warning signs. And when those signs emerged, they hinted at what stirred beyond the forested peaks.

For now, the news remained relatively contained. But once it spread, the atmosphere across Savagefang City would shift—not with fear, but with anticipation.

Because while a beast tide brought ruin, it also brought opportunity.

As hordes of demonic beasts surged outward, the lands they left behind became briefly exposed. Perilous, yes, but brimming with spiritual herbs, buried relics, and previously unreachable dens. For cultivators, the beasts themselves were spoils. Their claws, hides, fangs, and organs could be sold or refined into rare materials. But the true prize lay deeper—their Demonic Cores, crystallized nodes of spiritual energy essential for forging, alchemy, and cultivation enhancement.

For those with strength and ambition, a beast tide was a brutal, blood-soaked window for advancement—one paid in risk, but repaid in power.

With thoughts of the looming tide still swirling in his mind, Mikael stepped out of Norkal’s General Goods Store, now fifteen hundred low-grade spirit stones lighter. Following closely behind were the four elite guards of the Lin Clan who had silently accompanied him throughout his time in Savagefang City.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed the four men exchange subtle glances before Rong Tianxiu stepped forward with a composed smile.

“Honored Core Disciple,” he began, his tone courteous yet sincere, “now that your shopping is complete, would you allow the Lin Clan to host you for a short rest at our estate? The journey here couldn’t have been easy, and it would be our honor to offer you a place to recover, even if only briefly.”

He hesitated a moment, then added, “Our Patriarch also wishes to hold a small banquet in your honor. Nothing grand—just a gesture of respect and welcome from the clan.”

‘I see… the Lin Clan aren’t just being polite toward their “superior.” They’re deliberately trying to curry favor. It’s a calculated attempt to build a connection with me—and, through me, with the Wandering Sword Sect.’

‘Which makes sense. From what I overheard in local conversations, their relationship with the Flame Sovereign Sect has soured. In that situation, trying to forge ties with another Overlord Sect is only logical…’

‘But what does that have to do with me? Why should I care? I came here to train and fight—not to socialize or get tangled in political maneuvering by attending their banquet or whatever it is they’re planning.’

He offered Tianxiu a polite smile. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to visit the Lin Clan estate. I plan to head directly into the Savagefang Mountain Range to temper myself against Demonic Beasts.”

Tianxiu’s expression shifted subtly—disappointment, though expected, still flickered across his face. “…Still, I appreciate the Lin Clan’s kind intention and will remember it.”

Mikael’s final words made Tianxiu’s expression light up with barely concealed joy. On the surface, the Honored Core Disciple’s statement might seem casual, but in truth, it was significant. A Core Disciple of the Wandering Sword Sect expressing a favorable impression of the Lin Clan—no matter how mildly—was a gesture that could shift the balance in the clan’s favor.

In their tense negotiations with the Flame Sovereign Sect over their subordinate status, that slight impression could become a powerful bargaining chip.

And as the captain of the four-man squad responsible for earning that impression, Rong Tianxiu and his men would undoubtedly receive plentiful rewards.

It was only natural that the four elite guards were now brimming with barely concealed excitement.

Watching them, Mikael inwardly thought, ‘I may not want to waste time on the banquet, but saying a few words like that is well within my capabilities.’

‘It costs me nothing and places no obligation on my part. For me, it’s just a “casual” phrase—but for the Lin Clan, it could mean a great deal. Normally I wouldn’t bother doing something this charitable, but considering they’ve been helpful with my shopping, I can at least consider this a form of repayment.’

A short silence passed as the four guards digested his words. Then, Mikael spoke again.

“On that note, I’ll be heading into the Savagefang Mountain Range now.”

The moment his voice fell, his feet rose gently off the ground, bringing the joyful Lin Clan guards back to reality. All four bowed deeply. If their earlier respect had stemmed from the power and influence the Honored Core Disciple commanded, this time, it came from genuine gratitude—for his words.

“May the Honored Core Disciple’s expedition be rewarding.”

The four spoke in unison, their voices fading into the background as the wind howled louder, rising in strength while Mikael ascended steadily into the sky.

Soon, he passed through the city-wide defensive formation. An unnatural ripple shimmered faintly across the air—the only sign that he had officially left Savagefang City behind.

At his current height, sharp gusts lashed against him, his robes fluttering violently in the wind. Yet Mikael remained unbothered, his gaze locked on the Savagefang Mountain Range far ahead. Even from this distance, it exuded a profound aura of ferocity and ancientness, as if the very air around it bore the weight of history and violence.

From where he hovered, the Mountain Range loomed like a sleeping monstrosity. Its jagged silhouette tore at the horizon, the peaks uneven and clawing toward the heavens in wild, discordant rhythm. Even without setting foot near its borders, the oppressive pressure it emitted was unmistakable—dense, primal, and alive.

A flicker of movement caught his eye.

On the lower slope of one of the cragged peaks, a winged demonic beast burst from the thick canopy that blanketed much of the range. Its large form glided effortlessly through the air, wings outstretched with predatory grace. Clutched tightly in its talons was a smaller demonic beast, thrashing violently in a desperate attempt to break free.

A heartbeat later, the predator’s grip tightened.

Crack.

The smaller beast’s ribs shattered under the crushing strength of the talons, the sound unnaturally loud in Mikael’s ears.

Under normal circumstances, it would have been impossible to hear such a sound from this distance. Tens of kilometers separated him from the scene—it wasn’t simply a matter of hearing acuity, but of physics. Sound needed time to travel, and even if his hearing was sharp enough, it should’ve taken nearly half a minute to reach him.

But Mikael was no ordinary mortal.

At the First Layer of the Spiritual Foundation Realm, he had already stepped beyond the bounds of human limitation. Flying with ease, hearing sounds across impossible distances without delay—these were not exaggerations, but the natural results of a body that had begun to defy the physical laws of reality.

At this level of cultivation, the rules of physics were no longer absolutes. They were suggestions.

It was the same reason he’d once seen two cultivators move beyond the speed of sound without creating a sonic boom. At the time, he’d assumed the Akashic Records Universe simply had looser laws of nature. But later, with more knowledge, he understood the truth: it was cultivation that permitted such transgressions.

All of this passed through his mind in the span of a single heartbeat. His gaze never wavered, still fixed on the dying beast.

The smaller creature's fur erupted with streaks of blood-red as the final spasms ran through its frame. Then, it hung limp, its life extinguished under the predator’s crushing talons.

SKREEEE!

The winged beast released a shrill, echoing cry before vanishing behind one of the towering peaks, its massive form disappearing from view.

Vmmm.

Strapped against his back, Sangrelia let out a faint hum.

“You’re excited, aren’t you?... Me too. Me too.”

His gaze remained on the wild expanse below. From this high vantage point, he could already see glimpses of demonic beasts locked in brutal combat. The scenes were savage—blood, fangs, fury—but there was also something undeniably beautiful about it. A raw, natural rhythm that pulsed with life.

“Let’s see what the Savagefang Mountain Range has for us.”

The moment he finished murmuring those words, Mikael activated Cloudbreaking Stride, erupting forward at the highest speed he could reach without tapping into his non-cultivator powers.

He shot across the skies, devouring the landscape below at a pace that blurred stone, tree, and shadow. It didn’t take long before he crossed into the territory of the Savagefang Mountain Range—and the change was immediate. The air grew heavier, saturated with an oppressive, ancient presence that pressed faintly against his senses.

‘Interesting…’ he mused with a half-smile, his gaze trailing over the lush foliage sweeping beneath him.

Wind whispered past his ears as he glided several hundred meters above the forest canopy, emerald eyes scanning the wild terrain below. Jagged cliffs jutted from the earth like broken bones, rivers carved serpentine paths through shadowed valleys, and scattered within the thick undergrowth, spiritual herbs occasionally shimmered with faint glints of light.

He remained alert, yet the region seemed still—no spiritual pressures, no distant beastly cries. Just the sound of rushing wind and the vast, breathing silence of wilderness.

But that illusion didn’t last.

A faint disturbance cut through the air—barely a shift, like the breath held before a lightning strike. Mikael’s gaze narrowed just as his instincts surged.

FWOOOSH.

A massive wing sliced through the sky above him, briefly blotting out the sun. In the same instant, razor-sharp talons tore downward, aimed straight for his spine at terrifying speed.

Sensing the strike a heartbeat before it landed, Mikael dove low. The claws passed just inches above his head, carving the air with a SWISH

as they missed their mark.

In one seamless motion, Lunar Qi surged around Sangrelia.

He slashed.

Blood exploded into the air as the obsidian blade with a bloody edge tore through the talons that had just tried to kill him.

SCREEECCH.

A shrill, furious cry rang out as Mikael spun mid-flight, his eyes locking onto the attacker for the first time.

It was a massive flying demonic beast, its wingspan easily twelve meters across. Yellow-brown feathers glinted under the sunlight, each one edged with the faint glimmer of wind-attribute Qi. Its beak looked sharp enough to pierce steel, and its talons—were it not for the gash Mikael had just inflicted—seemed capable of ripping through even his reinforced body with ease.

Now, though, one of those talons bore a deep, bone-splitting wound, silver light still coiling through the torn flesh. It amplified the damage, causing the beast to release another pained shriek.

Yet for all its strength and savagery, what drew Mikael’s attention wasn’t its size or even the wound he had inflicted—it was its eyes.

Those yellow, beast-like eyes were locked onto him with pure hatred. No fear, no wariness. Just unrelenting, feral hostility.

‘An Early-stage Spiritual Foundation Realm Flying Demonic Beast.’ The thought passed through Mikael's mind in an instant, his passive Divine Sense registering the aura with precision.

Unfortunately, his knowledge of specific demonic beast species was still far too shallow. If it weren’t, he would’ve recognized it as a Skyrazor Falcon—a beast whose cultivation typically capped at the Early-stage Spiritual Foundation Realm upon reaching adulthood.

With luck, one might reach the Mid-stage in old age, but anything beyond that was almost impossible without a miraculous opportunity. Such was the nature of Spiritual and Demonic Beasts. Their growth potential was determined at birth—both a blessing and a curse—with little room for evolution unless fate itself intervened.

For a breathless moment, neither moved.

Mikael’s emerald eyes met the hawk-like gaze of the Skyrazor Falcon. Their killing intent clashed in silence.

Then, a single leaf drifted past Mikael’s face, carried by the wind. It spun lazily between them, obscuring his view for a single instant.

And then—

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— End of Chapter —