Finally, as the sun angled toward the west and shadows lengthened into black claws, He Xing stopped. "We've gone far enough for today. If we go deeper, we risk straying too far from Elder Yue's range."

Zhang Rulan merely nodded, still recording a diagram into his jade slip: an outline of a riverbend with beast trails branching off. His expression was calm, but his narrowed eyes betrayed how alert he truly was.

Han Yu, meanwhile, looked around one last time.

He burned the memory of the hollow tree's location into his mind, tracing a route back with meticulous detail. A narrow ravine, a crooked willow, a cluster of glowing fungi near a patch of swamp. He could find it again.

Just as they turned to head back, Zhang Rulan suddenly froze. His slim figure tensed, and his saber hand twitched ever so slightly.

"Something's following us," he murmured, his voice low, almost like the rustle of leaves.

He Xing grimaced, flexing his arms as his qi flared faintly, ready to strike at a moment's notice. "How many?"

Zhang Rulan shook his head, his eyes scanning the dense greenery. "Not sure. But it's been trailing us for at least half an hour. Quiet. Careful. This isn't a common beast."

Han Yu's instincts prickled.

His spirit sense brushed outward, but the forest was so saturated with qi and life that it was hard to isolate anything. Still, the oppressive sensation was undeniable, like the weight of unseen eyes pressing on the back of his neck.

The three tightened their formation, moving more cautiously. Every snapped twig echoed louder than it should, every gust of wind made the branches groan like the forest itself was holding its breath.

Then, just as they reached a clearing, the silence broke.

A hulking beast lunged from the underbrush: a Core Condensation realm Serpent Scaled Panther, its sleek black body glistening with scales, eyes glowing with murderous intent. Its roar rattled the air, shaking loose leaves from above.

Han Yu didn't think, the Bolt God Fist surged within him, Spirit qi gathering in his arm as he thrust forward. But He Xing was faster, his massive arms swinging his fists that were reinforced with qi, down in a brutal arc that clashed with the beast's fangs, sparks flying from the impact.

Zhang Rulan's saber hissed free, a thin line of qi so sharp it seemed to split the air. He slashed across the serpent's flank, leaving a shallow but smoking wound.

The battle erupted in the clearing, a flurry of lightning, steel, and roars.

Han Yu circled quickly, landing another Bolt God punch that struck the serpent across the jaw, snapping its head sideways with a crack of thunder. For a split second, he caught a glimpse... Up on the ridge overlooking the clearing, half-hidden in shadows.

A figure.

Cloaked. Masked. Watching.

Han Yu's breath caught.

The figure raised a hand, almost lazily, and the Panther Serpent suddenly twisted with unnatural fury, its eyes flashing red for an instant.

Then the figure was gone.

Han Yu blinked, searching, but the ridge was empty. It was as if what he had seen was just his imagination.

The serpent lashed out wildly, tail sweeping like a whip that sent Han Yu stumbling back. He Xing grunted as he locked halberd against fangs, while Zhang Rulan darted in, severing the beast's tail with a precise slash.

At last, with a final coordinated strike, the serpent fell, its head brutally crushed under He Xing's fists, its body collapsing into spasms before growing still.

The three disciples stood panting, the clearing strewn with broken branches and smoking gouges in the soil.

But Han Yu wasn't looking at the serpent. His eyes were fixed on that empty ridge, his heart hammering.

That wasn't a coincidence.

The beast had been controlled. Again.

And this time, Han Yu had seen the one behind it.

.

.

.

The night was heavy with silence.

Even deep in the inner ring, the forest rarely grew so still. Normally, the air trembled with the cries of distant beasts, insects chittering in the undergrowth, or the rustling of restless leaves. Yet tonight, the camp sat in an unnatural calm, the kind of quiet that made even seasoned disciples exchange uneasy glances.

Han Yu sat cross-legged near the edge of the defensive array, his halberd resting across his knees. His gaze swept the tree line, where the mist curled unnaturally thick.

The faint light from the glowing array stones bathed everyone in pale hues, illuminating the weary faces of disciples who had just rotated off guard duty. They were tense. All of them could feel it... the calm before the storm.

He Xing paced nearby, rolling his shoulders as if warming up for a fight. Zhang Rulan, the silent saber-wielder, stood with arms crossed, his sharp eyes focused on the darkness beyond the wards. Neither spoke, but their very presence radiated readiness.

Han Yu, however, had his thoughts elsewhere.

That hollow tree…

The memory of the sunken trunk rose in his mind, its cavernous belly hidden beneath the soil. It was the perfect place to plant the anchor of the Undying Life Charm. But with He Xing and Zhang Rulan constantly near him, and the elders organizing the survey with iron discipline, he hadn't been able to slip away.

He needed chaos.

And it was coming.

The stillness of the forest was proof enough.

Beasts always stirred before a tide, and tides always brought slaughter. Han Yu's lips curled faintly as he closed his eyes, as if meditating. In reality, he was planning: mapping the fastest route from the camp perimeter to the hollow tree, calculating how long it would take to carve the rune, and how far he could push his excuse of "straying in battle."

He reckoned he'd have no more than half a an hour before someone noticed his absence, maybe longer if the battle pressed hard against the wards. Enough time, if he was careful.

A sudden flare of qi snapped his eyes open. One of the elders had risen into the air, scanning the horizon with narrowed eyes. Moments later, her voice rang through the camp, calm yet firm:

"Everyone, prepare yourselves. The tide will come tonight."