Song Wanníng walked calmly through the crowd, her steps unhurried, her robes pristine despite the lingering scent of battle smoke in the air. Her presence parted the tide of disciples with ease. No need for orders. No need for attention. People simply moved.
She made her way straight toward the main command tent, where a cluster of voices murmured beyond the curtain.
Inside, Ye Chuxue stood before the Sect Master, hands raised as she respectfully offered up a porcelain bottle filled with freshly refined pills. Her expression was composed, neither proud nor humble, her voice smooth as she recited the list of medicinal effects.
A few other alchemists had stepped forward too, most with less impressive results. Their batches were scattered, a few pills here and there, some slightly unstable. But this was only half a day's work. With a full rotation tomorrow, the yield was expected to increase.
The Sect Master gave a small nod, smiling faintly as he accepted Ye Chuxue's bottle.
"Well done. All contributions will be recorded and rewarded accordingly."
His tone was encouraging, and the cultivators in the tent straightened at once, visibly buoyed by the promise. Even a single commendation from the Sect Master could tip a disciple's future.
Only Ye Chuxue's expression remained untouched, serene as a lotus. She pressed her palms together and offered a light bow.
"Sect Master, as members of Wentian Sect, this is simply our duty."
Then she hesitated, letting just enough silence stretch before continuing, her voice softening into something almost apologetic.
"However... I heard Elder Song left the alchemy pavilion today without permission and went to the Song family's camp. This action stirred quite a bit of discontent among the disciples. It may have been... inappropriate."
A delicate pause.
The words had been spoken gently, but everyone in the tent felt the sudden chill.
The atmosphere shifted.
Several alchemists lowered their eyes, some pretending to busy themselves with scrolls or storage pouches. No one spoke. No one stepped in.
Ye Chuxue had no such hesitation. Her faction had long severed ties with Song Wanníng. There was nothing to lose.
The Sect Master's face darkened immediately. His fingers tapped once against the lacquered armrest of his seat.
That woman again.
Even now, Song Wanníng acted with such flagrant disregard for order. The sect was at war, and she still clung to her clan ties as though nothing had changed. He opened his mouth, ready to voice his displeasure.
But then, the tent's flap stirred.
Song Wanníng entered.
She stepped into the tent with perfect timing, neither too early nor too late, her arrival slicing through the tension like a blade through mist. Her gaze swept across the room—calm, unreadable—before settling on the Sect Master.
He quickly adjusted his posture and bit back whatever reprimand he had been ready to unleash. His tone shifted in an instant. "Junior Sister Song," he said, forcing a smile. "I heard you went to the Song family's camp today. Did something happen?"
There was a subtle edge to his question, one she didn't miss. Her lips curled faintly.
This man still hoped she would fight and bleed for him?
She cast a glance at Ye Chuxue. She'd heard every word.
Comparing this to her memories of the past life, Song Wanníng could tell that Ye Chuxue had changed. She still disliked the woman, but Ye Chuxue had once been composed, clever, and tactful. Now, she acted like someone pushed past their limit.
Song Wanníng withdrew her gaze and answered coolly, "It's been a long time since I saw my family. I paid them a visit."
Then, without elaboration, she took out a jade bottle and tossed it forward. "These are the pills."
The Sect Master caught it and opened the bottle. His eyes widened.
"Sixth-grade Regenerative Pills! And five of them!"
Regenerative Pills were rare and powerful.
Low-grade pills could heal surface wounds and improve skin tone. Mid-grade pills could restore severed limbs and even regrow hair. High-grade pills, like the ones Song Wanníng refined, could regrow flesh over bare bone.
One of these pills was worth more than all the others refined that day combined—and she had five.
The Sect Master's expression changed instantly. In battle, especially against beasts, lost limbs were common. Without Regenerative Pills, those injuries would leave lasting disability.
The sect had brought a small reserve of such pills, but nothing close to this level. These pills were invaluable.
"You were right to visit. If the Song family needs anything, Junior Sister Song, do not hesitate to speak."
He laughed heartily, then offered her a large box of medicinal herbs. "We'll need to trouble you again tomorrow."
"It's no trouble," Song Wanníng replied. "But I did overhear someone questioning my loyalty to the sect. That... was disheartening."
Her voice was calm, her gaze never once landing on Ye Chuxue. "I've never needed to explain myself to anyone. I'll let it go this time. But if it happens again, don't expect me to remain polite."
With that, she turned and strode away, seemingly furious.
The cultivators in the tent exchanged glances, then turned their eyes toward Ye Chuxue with thinly veiled contempt.
Questioning someone like Elder Song? Who did Ye Chuxue think she was?
She stood frozen in place.
"What a performance. She had gone out early that morning. How could she have had time to refine pills? These must have been prepared in advance."
But Ye Chuxue couldn't say that out loud. The pills were real, and their quality undeniable. Her heart burned with frustration.
Fine then. Let Song Wanníng enjoy her moment. Once she rose in rank and skill, Song Wanníng would no longer be able to act so arrogantly.
Ye Chuxue turned and stormed off to her alchemy chamber. With so many herbs available, she couldn't afford to waste a single moment. She had reached her limit with Song Wanníng's smug, self-righteous presence.
That evening, word spread through the camp about their confrontation. When it became known that Song Wanníng had submitted sixth-grade pills, every voice fell silent.
Inside her room, a golden sword spirit bounced out of Song Wanníng's mind and landed lightly on her shoulder.
"Elder Sister, that little drama you staged—was it intentional?"
Song Wanníng calmly placed the jade bottle of pills on the table. "It was."
The pills inside had been prepared beforehand.
She then pulled out a straw figurine and pricked her finger. A single drop of blood fell onto the doll. In an instant, it sprang to life, walking around the room with an aura identical to hers.
She had already begun preparing for this beast tide while in seclusion.
Today's "argument" was carefully orchestrated, all to create the impression that if she ever left camp, she would do so openly. That way, when she truly disappeared, no one would suspect a thing.
With the straw man leaving behind her presence and pills, no one would think twice.
She needed this deception—for the Song family investigation, and to track down Bai Yang and claim the divine beast.
Everything had to go perfectly.
"When do we leave?" the golden sword chirped, excited.
It was more than ready to face off against those beast hybrids.
"Tonight. First, we'll visit the Song family camp. The trap is already set. Just waiting for our target to step into it."
"As for Bai Yang, I left a divine sense imprint on him. I know exactly where he is."
Song Wanníng's eyes narrowed.
The real battle was just beginning.
And she would protect the Song family, no matter what.
By midnight, Song Wanníng donned her black robes again, the same ones that concealed her aura. With her face hidden behind a mask, she slipped out of camp like a shadow.
Not a single sentry noticed.
A thunderous roar echoed across the valley. A bear-type beast was charging after Bai Yang, snarling and slamming its claws down toward him.
Beasts were known for their brute strength and thick hides. Some, like this one, had even awakened innate abilities. Wind element swirled around its limbs, and each swing of its claws sent sharp gusts spiraling toward him.
Bai Yang stepped off the back of one beast, using it as a springboard to leap away from the incoming wind blades, landing on the back of another monster. Before he could jump again, its claws locked around his leg.
Bai Yang's eyes flashed with fury. He slashed down with his sword.
A brilliant arc of white light split the night.
The beast's claw was severed cleanly. But just then, another wind blast came sweeping in—skimming past his face, close enough to sting.