Bai Yang threw himself backward, his body twisting midair as he launched away from the attack.
The whirlwind struck the beast that had been chasing him. With a howl, it stumbled, revealing that half its body had been shredded away. Yet, somehow, the creature kept charging, oblivious to the gaping wound.
It managed only a few steps before crashing to the ground with a heavy thud. It twitched once, then lay still.
Bai Yang's gaze narrowed. As he struck with his sword, his left hand formed a quick seal. A strange array lit up beneath him, rippling outward from his body. The formation pulsed, expanding and contracting until it wrapped around the surrounding beasts.
Within moments, the monsters thrashed violently as though something had bound them.
Bai Yang's sword intent followed.
Boom.
A wave of beasts exploded into chaos.
He cut them down one by one, his face cold, emotionless.
Still, they kept coming, wave after wave, with no fear of death. It was relentless.
Something was wrong.
Though Bai Yang had never experienced a beast tide before, the behavior of these creatures was off. Too frenzied. Too suicidal.
The Sect Master must have been right. These beasts were after something. But what?
He glanced toward the mountains in the distance, a strange sense of being summoned pulling faintly at him.
Several powerful presences lingered in that direction, enough to make even him hesitate to approach.
Shaking it off, Bai Yang pushed forward, speeding up his assault. His body ached. After a full day of fighting, he was running on pills and fumes. His injuries multiplied, but he kept going.
By the time the sun dipped low, he was stumbling back to camp with the others.
Hidden in the shadows, Song Wanníng watched them return. No divine beast today. She turned and quietly made her way toward the Song family encampment.
She recalled Bai Yang's performance. For all his youth, he was steady in battle, quick to adapt, and sharp in understanding. Give him time, and he would surely grow into a force to reckon with.
Which was exactly why she could not afford to look away.
She had to keep tracking him. She didn't know when the divine beast would show itself, but she had a feeling Bai Yang would be the key.
And perhaps—just perhaps—these beast riots were connected to the divine beast itself.
It was only a theory, but one worth testing.
In the following days, Song Wanníng settled into a rhythm.
By day, she followed Bai Yang. At night, she gathered intelligence from the Song family.
The eerie calm in their camp made the elders uneasy. Compared to other camps, theirs had suffered almost no losses. The disciples returned each day with beast corpses and barely any injuries.
So far, only five casualties.
Even Song Qingyun had grown anxious. Despite all their preparation, nothing had happened yet. Would their trap ever be triggered?
With no other choice, they joined the disciples in combat, watching their movements closely and preparing to intervene at the first sign of danger.
Back at Wentian Sect, no one suspected anything. Each day, Song Wanníng left a few pills outside her door. Everyone assumed she was still in seclusion, refining medicine.
And if anyone tried to find her, the straw dummy would alert her immediately.
It was foolproof.
Now on the ninth day of the suppression campaign, Bai Yang joined the next battle.
His killing intent had grown stronger. His aura now lingered at the peak of Foundation Establishment, only a breath away from breaking into the Golden Core stage.
And contracting the divine beast—that would be his breakthrough.
Song Wanníng could feel it in her bones. It would be soon.
A thousand beasts howled and charged the front lines.
"Charge!"
The disciples roared in return, clashing in another brutal skirmish.
At first, everything seemed the same. Bai Yang fought through the beasts with practiced skill. But today, something changed.
A fourth-rank beast had locked onto him.
That was Golden Core level.
What was worse, it was ignoring everyone else. It was focused solely on him.
The Nascent Soul cultivators tried to intervene, but were immediately blocked by semi-transformed beasts. They had no time to spare.
The Golden Core disciples were similarly tied up.
All they could do was watch as Bai Yang was forced into the mountain depths.
"Junior Brother Bai!"
"Bai Yang!"
Voices cried out behind him, but he was already gone.
The beast chased him like a predator toying with its prey, tossing him around like a ragdoll.
Each time he hit the ground, pain wracked his body. He groaned, twisting in agony.
His vision spun. Every attempt to fight back was crushed. His spiritual energy was in disarray.
Boom.
Another heavy fall. Bai Yang tasted blood.
Above, the tree canopy blotted out the sun. The shadows mirrored the despair in his heart.
The beast rammed him again, its horn impaling his waist.
"Agh!"
His scream echoed through the trees. Blood poured from the wound.
The beast roared in triumph, then hurled him through the air once more.
From a distance, Song Wanníng watched with an amused smile.
The more he suffered, the more satisfied she felt.
She rested her chin in her hand, gaze fixed on the scene. It wouldn't be long now. The divine beast would have to appear soon.
Just as she expected, the monster flung Bai Yang off the cliff.
Boom.
He hit the ground hard and didn't move again.
Blood pooled beneath him, soaking the earth.
Everything fell silent.
Song Wanníng drifted down from the cliffs, masking her presence as she slipped into a patch of tall grass.
As the sun fully set, movement stirred nearby.
A swarm of mutated ants emerged, each the size of a rat. Their antennae glowed faintly red as they marched in formation.
They reached Bai Yang's body and began to drag him away, treating him like fresh prey.
Their chittering echoed through the air. Song Wanníng couldn't understand their speech, but she could sense their excitement.
She followed them, silent and unseen, all the way to a damp cave hidden deep in the mountain.