The next morning, long before the sun climbed over the eastern peaks, Jiang Chen made his way into the deep mountains.
He moved through the mountain ranges with careful steps, traveling deeper into the wild. Towering trees blotted out the sky. Vines hung like nooses. Faint beast calls echoed from every direction.
Once or twice he passed by small creatures, but he ignored them. His eyes were fixed only on the trail.
This lasted for about six hours.
At last, in a dense thicket ringed by crimson-leaf trees, Jiang Chen halted.
Across a narrow clearing, beside a shallow stream, two Rank One Iron-Striped Mirage Tigers lay quietly.
One was resting on a rock, belly up, tail flicking lazily. The other paced back and forth along the edge of the stream, ears twitching, gaze alert. Their bodies were lean and long, with black-iron stripes running from skull to tail.
Jiang Chen crouched low, eyes locked on the beasts.
He did not attack immediately.
Instead, he slipped back into the forest.
Half an hour passed.
Then a scent of blood spread through the wind.
The two tigers stirred. Their noses twitched and heads turned in unison.
The bloody scent led them northeast, where a patch of forest opened to a muddy glade.
A large water buffalo corpse lay sprawled, its gut torn open and eyes glazed over. Crimson blood pooled beneath it.
One of the Mirage Tigers growled softly. The other tiger circled wide and slowly approached the corpse.
It sniffed and nudged the corpse with its paw. Waited. After a pause, it let out a short growl and turned back to keep watch without any interest in devouring this free lunch.
The other Iron-Striped Mirage Tiger padded forward and greedily bit down into the buffalo's shoulder.
Just as it tore the first chunk of flesh—
BOOM!
A thunderous fist erupted from the corpse's ribcage.
A pale golden phantom of a roaring tiger cloaked Jiang Chen's fist as it shot upward into the underside of the beast's jaw, shattering bones and brain in a single strike.
This Iron-Striped Mirage Tiger did not even have time to cry out before its skull exploded like a crushed gourd spilling red all over.
Behind it, the other tiger dissolved into smoke.
Only one had been real. It was the Iron-Striped Mirage Tiger's bloodline trait.
Jiang Chen crawled out from within the gutted buffalo, soaked in blood and viscera.
His face was indifferent.
He waved his hand. The tiger's corpse vanished into his storage bag.
Without a glance back, he turned and disappeared into the forest.
-------
By the time Jiang Chen returned, twilight had settled over the Heavenly Tiger Sect.
The path back twisted through cliffs wreathed in drifting mist. Waterfalls roared faintly in the distance, cutting through pine-covered ravines like silver blades. As he emerged from the forest trail, the sight before him was no less than majestic.
Built into the bones of the mountain itself, the sect stretched across peaks and valleys like a crouching beast. Stone bridges arched between crags, their railings carved with tigers in mid-leap. Towering gates of black iron and jade stood vigilant at every turn, adorned with snarling tiger heads. From high atop the central summit, a tiger statue the size of a palace watched over the sect with glowing crystal eyes.
Jiang Chen stepped into the outer courtyard without pause, his face calm, bloodstains on his sleeves long dried. The crowd of disciples milling about gave him no more than passing glances.
Before long, he arrived at the Outer Sect Mission Hall. The building was tall and wide, its roof ridges arched like a beast's back. Twin doors of scarlet copper opened to reveal a hall with two long counters and sparse oil lamps flickering against the stone walls.
Behind the counters sat two men. One was a weathered official with streaks of grey at the temples, his expression placid. The other, younger and lean, had the sharp eyes of someone who believed himself clever.
Jiang Chen walked up and slammed a jade token on the desk.
"I've returned from mission three-one-seven. Name's Jiang Chen."
The older man picked up the token and glanced over the mission scroll. "Shy Shadow Flowers. Blue Star valley. Partner listed is Lin Feng. Where is he?"
Jiang Chen said nothing at first. His eyes reddened, his jaw tightening.
The older man looked up. "I asked, where is your companion?"
Jiang Chen took a heavy breath, just enough to make it seem real, and spoke at last through clenched teeth, "You tell me. Your record said a mid stage Rank One Three-Eyed Shadow Tiger. What we found was a King-tier variant! I don't know if it was a evolution or your people misjudged it, but we are the ones who suffered!"
The older man's brow furrowed. "What happened to your companion?"
"We split up to escape. Had a fallback point. But Brother Lin Feng hasn't shown." Jiang Chen let out a low breath, dragging his palm down his face. "It's been nearly a day. Either he's lost, wounded, or already dead."
He said it as if spitting hot coals. His voice full of fury and helplessness, eyes bloodshot, and voice cracking ever so slightly.
The older man's expression turned serious.
But the younger clerk beside him scoffed. "Mission grounds are dangerous. Everyone who accepts a task knows that. If your partner's dead, then that's unfortunate, but it's hardly rare."
Jiang Chen turned to him slowly. His eyes were like black ice. Then he took a step forward and placed both palms flat on the counter, the wood groaning beneath the force.
"Rare or not, we trusted your records. You gave us flawed intelligence. You sent us to die." Jiang Chen's tone was low now, cold rather than loud. "Is this the level of responsibility disciples should expect from the mission hall? Misjudged beasts. Dead companions. And we're told to simply endure."
The young man scoffed again, but his voice had lost its sharp edge. "Don't speak as if you're special. Hmph, if you lack the strength to face death, you shouldn't have accepted the mission in the first place."
Jiang Chen said nothing, but his gaze lingered on the young man for a moment too long. The younger clerk shifted in his seat.
The older man raised a hand, voice void of emotion. "Enough. The mission was misclassified. That is a fault on our part. But mistakes happen. The responsibility still lies with those who venture out."
Jiang Chen gave a bitter laugh, but said nothing.
The older man heaved a deep sigh and gave Jiang Chen a look not unsympathetic. "Do you have the mission item?"
Jiang Chen reached into his storage bag and pulled out a bloodstained cloth bundle, placing it on the counter. When unwrapped, it revealed a handful of bluish-black flowers, their petals thin as mist, glittering faintly under the lamplight.
The older man nodded and handed him a small pouch. "Twenty spirit stones."
Jiang Chen did not count them. He merely stuffed it into his robes and leaned back, his shoulders stiff with silent fury.
The younger clerk brought out a parchment and brush. "Incident report."
Jiang Chen dictated the events. His tone was dull now, as if repeating a story he wished he could forget. The young man penned the details.
"Mission rank: Second order. Mission site: Blue Star valley. Beast encountered: King-tier Three-Eyed Shadow Tiger. Casualties: Lin Feng, status missing. Recommendation: mission threat level to be reassessed."
Once it was done, Jiang Chen bowed slightly, face still dark with emotion.
Then he turned and left.
Outside, darkness had fully fallen. A cool breeze swept across the mountain steps, rustling pine needles and carrying the scent of earth.
Jiang Chen walked with slow, heavy steps, his head slightly bowed and eyes downcast.
He looked like a man who had just watched his brother die.
But inwardly, he was indifferent.
'There will be no investigation. The mission hall has already blundered by misjudging the beast's strength. They wouldn't risk exposing their own incompetence just to look into the death of an outer disciple.' Jiang Chen mused.
As for Lin Feng, no one cared enough. The death of an insignificant outer disciple would be no more than a footnote in the eyes of the sect.
By tomorrow, Lin Feng would be forgotten.
Jiang Chen walked deeper into the night. The grief on his face remained, etched perfectly.
Like a mask.