Ge Guang's blood ran cold as he saw it—a shadow—immense, monstrous, and moving with terrifying speed. Before he could even draw a breath, his head was severed from his body in an instant. His own lifeless form remained standing for a brief moment, eyes wide in disbelief, before it collapsed in a gruesome heap, blood staining the earth in torrents.
Aaaghhhh
Aaaghhhh
The battlefield erupted into a symphony of agony. Gu Masters—once proud warriors—fell like leaves in a storm, torn apart, devoured by an unseen predator. The wind wolves howled in terror as they were ripped apart just as easily, their bodies mangled and consumed one by one.
The massacre stretched on, a brutal, grotesque display of slaughter that felt endless. Corpses were consumed in mere moments, no one spared—not the wolves, not the men. The very ground seemed to absorb their lives, swallowing them whole.
Then, as if rising from the depths of nightmare itself, she appeared.
A grotesque woman, her form twisted and inhuman, emerged from the blood-soaked ruins of the battlefield. Her limbs were elongated and unnatural, her skin slick with the remains of those she had consumed. Her eyes were hollow pits, black as void, but burning with a terrible, insatiable hunger.
Her mouth was a gaping maw of fangs, slick with blood, and she moved with an eerie, unsettling grace.
She crawled across the battlefield like a predator that had just feasted, her long tongue licking the remains of the slaughtered, scraping the very earth clean of blood. The air itself seemed to recoil from her presence, as though the world itself rejected the very notion of her existence.
But she was not done.
No—she consumed. She devoured. Her hands, clawed and unfeeling, tore into the corpses with vicious hunger, swallowing entire bodies whole without a second thought. The cries of the dying were drowned out by the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart, consumed in a frenzied, grotesque display of power.
And then—there he was.
Fang Yuan.
He patted gently on the abomination's head. The woman paused, her grotesque form halting mid-motion, as if acknowledging the presence of it's master. Her eyes, for the briefest moment, flicked upward.
A figure stood there, cloaked in black robes , the air around him warped and full of shadows.
Fang Yuan stepped forward, his cold gaze sweeping across the battlefield. The abomination before him did not move. There was an undeniable obedience in her stance. The massacre had ceased.
"It should be enough." His voice sliced through the silence, calm and calculated, as though this entire slaughter had been a mere prelude.
His eyes never left the grotesque woman as she lowered her head at his words, the chaotic hunger in her expression receding like a tide. The battlefield—now barren and littered with death—was still.
Fang Yuan's lips barely curled into a smile, the faintest hint of something darker lurking in the depths of his gaze.
...
At the Ge Tribe's Camp Base...
The camp sprawled across the plain like a beast at rest, enclosed by towering green walls that pulsed with life. Vines slithered across the thick barrier, winding tightly, their leaves rustling in the faint northern winds. From within the foliage hung clusters of what looked like grapes—but appearances deceived.
These were no fruits. They were Mind Confusion Gu, bred and cultivated through the wood path. A living defense. When wild beasts approached, these pods would burst, spraying a haze of mental poison—confusing, disorienting, and paralyzing intruders with one touch of their pulpy venom.
Behind the verdant wall stood tall watchtowers, each manned by three Gu Masters—two investigative, one defensive. Their eyes never left the horizon. In these wild lands, death often came without warning.
Suddenly—"Open the gates! Quickly!" one of the investigative Gu Masters bellowed from atop a tower, panic in his voice."Call the Healing Gu Master!""The young tribe leader—he's injured!"
The thick wooden gates groaned open with haste.
Out of the swirling dusk and into the camp staggered a single Gu Master—bloodied, broken, barely alive. His robes hung in tatters, soaked in blood. Claw marks streaked across his face. His arms bore deep bite wounds, still oozing. The stench of iron and death followed him like a ghost.
Gasps erupted as the guards recognized him.
"Young Tribe Leader!""Ge Guang!"
Several Gu Masters rushed to support him, their hands shaking.
From deeper within the camp, an older man hurried forward—his robes pristine, his white beard swaying with every desperate step. His face, kind yet worn by years of war and loss, twisted in panic.
"Ge Guang, my son!" he cried out, voice trembling.
The bloodied young man lifted his gaze slowly, eyes dim, barely conscious. His lips moved.
"Father..."
With that final breath, Ge Guang collapsed into his father's arms. His body went limp, the strength drained from every muscle, as unconsciousness swallowed him whole.
"Where are the rest of the clan members?!"
Panic tore through the camp like a knife through silk.
"Don't tell me… they were all… dead?"
"No… no!!"
Wails erupted from the crowd as realization sank in. Mothers clutched their children, wives fell to their knees, and brothers looked to the sky in stunned silence. The truth had arrived—not with an announcement, but with the lone, broken figure of Ge Guang.
The air turned heavy with grief.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of Ge Tribe's warriors had marched out proudly just days ago. Only one returned.
Only one.
The survivors' hopes, their prayers, were shattered in that instant. Their loved ones were never coming back. The battlefield had claimed them, and no body was left to bury.
Meanwhile, Ge Guang's bloodied form lay still in his father's arms.
The old tribe leader stood amidst the cries and the chaos, his expression unreadable. His gaze swept over the grieving crowd—his people—his tribe—their faces twisted in anguish, eyes filled with horror and disbelief.
But he said nothing.
Not a word.
Only a storm swirled quietly in his eyes. Rage. Sorrow. And something deeper.
He tightened his grip on his unconscious son, turned, and walked toward his personal Gu House, his footsteps steady and unshaken.
Behind him, the Healing Gu Master followed in silence, already summoning his Gu worms.
The crowd parted as the old man passed, but the weight of his silence lingered like a blade hanging over the entire tribe.