Zhuo Riyan lay half-buried in the cracked earth, every breath scraping through his chest like broken glass. His meridians felt scorched, his bones screamed, and even lifting a finger sent waves of pain through his body. Still, he endured it in silence, teeth clenched, refusing to let out another pathetic groan.
Zhuo Riyan wrapped his transformed left arm tightly in white cloth, concealing it from view.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was Little Cat.
That bastard was sitting comfortably on his stomach, tail flicking lazily, eyes half-closed, looking like he was enjoying a peaceful nap rather than standing in the middle of a battlefield soaked in blood and killing intent.
Zhuo Riyan's lips twitched.
He tried to move. Pain flared instantly, and his exhausted beast qi refused to respond. His limbs felt heavy, as if they no longer belonged to him. With effort bordering on madness, he forced himself upright, grit grinding between his teeth as his back left the ground.
He sat there, breathing heavily.
Then he glared at Little Cat.
"You little shit," Zhuo Riyan muttered hoarsely. "You dodged at the last second and let me take all of it, didn't you."
Little Cat yawned, stretched, and glanced at him with a lazy expression, as if to say survival was survival.
Zhuo Riyan's eye twitched in rage.
At the side, the white-haired woman had never taken her gaze off him.
She watched every movement, every subtle reaction, her sharp eyes missing nothing. As she looked at his battered body and stubborn posture, memories surfaced unbidden.
Three years ago.
Long City.
Zhuo Riyan.
The name that had spread like wildfire back then.
The boy who had supposedly tried to drug a woman from the Great Bound Sect. The boy accused of attempting to violate her. The boy who had been caught red-handed by a fellow Great Bound Sect disciple and crippled on the spot.
Disgust. Contempt. Ridicule.
That was how the world had spoken of him.
Her brows furrowed slightly.
Because what she remembered didn't align.
When she had visited the Great Bound Sect to recruit disciples, she had seen Zhuo Riyan once, deep in the forest. He had been practicing alone with his lifebound beast, a Razor Golden Eagle. No audience. No praise. Just relentless training until his hands bled.
That boy hadn't looked like a degenerate.
He had looked… desperate.
Her gaze sharpened as she studied him now.
So this is Zhuo Riyan.
She stepped closer, the sound of her boots against broken soil pulling him out of his irritation with Little Cat.
Zhuo Riyan sensed her presence and stiffened slightly. Instinctively, he shifted his body, placing one hand on the ground as if ready to push himself up or strike if needed, despite knowing damn well he was in no condition to fight.
The white-haired woman stopped beside him.
With a smooth motion, she slid her sword back into its sheath.
That alone sent a clear message.
She wasn't hostile.
"Hey," she said, her voice calm but not soft. "Is your injury all right."
Zhuo Riyan looked up at her.
For a brief moment, their eyes met.
Her gaze was clear, piercing, and carried an authority that made even seasoned cultivators think twice. Zhuo Riyan's heart skipped a beat, not from attraction, but from instinctive caution.
He snorted weakly.
"All right?" he said, voice rough and irritated. "If I was all right, I wouldn't be sitting here like a fucking corpse."
Little Cat flicked his tail in agreement.
The woman didn't react to his tone. Instead, she glanced at his body, taking in the torn clothes, the faint traces of purple thunder still flickering around his legs, and the subtle fluctuations of beast qi that showed his foundation was far from ordinary.
"You're alive," she said. "That's already more than enough, considering where you fell."
Zhuo Riyan leaned back slightly, supporting himself with one hand.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Sadly."
Her eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second.
"You're not afraid of us," she observed.
Zhuo Riyan let out a dry laugh. "Lady, after tonight, fear feels like a luxury. Besides, if you wanted me dead, I'd already be fucking dead."
The white-haired woman studied him in silence.
Not a criminal's panic.
Not a predator's arrogance.
Just exhaustion, bitterness, and a stubborn will clinging to life.
At that moment, far away, the sound of battle echoed faintly through the forest. Sword light flashed between trees, accompanied by dying screams.
The pink-haired woman was doing her work.
The white-haired woman spoke again, her voice quieter now. "Zhuo Riyan... Right, do you truly understand where you stand, and the situation you've dragged yourself into?"
Zhuo Riyan shrugged painfully. "If you didn't know my name, that would be the real surprise. Seems my reputation hasn't faded. My purpose here was the Three-Leaf Frozen Grass. The real question is—why has Heaven Academy appeared?"
The little cat puffed out his chest proudly. He didn't understand a single word of what was being said—he only knew that his master had once been popular, though he had no idea why that popularity existed.
The woman's gaze lingered on him for a long moment before she turned her eyes toward the distant battlefield.
"It doesn't matter why we're here," she said. "Rest. You arrived at the wrong time, and for now, we can't let you leave—because you've seen us."
Zhuo Riyan followed her gaze, his eyes darkening as they landed on the corpses scattered across the ground.
Black cloaks. Twisted bodies. Blood soaked into the soil.
The problem wasn't that they were dead.
The problem was who they were.
His pupils shrank.
All of them… Seventh Level of Beast Spirit Stage.
Zhuo Riyan's throat went dry.
Slowly, almost unwillingly, his gaze shifted back to the white-haired woman standing calmly beside him, her sword resting quietly in its sheath as if nothing of importance had happened.
If that bastards are seventh level…
Then this woman was at least Ninth Level of Beast Spirit Stage.
Maybe even higher.
A cold chill ran down his spine.
He lowered his eyes slightly, masking the storm in his mind. At the same time, Little Cat had already figured it out. The little bastard's ears twitched sharply.
In a flash, Little Cat jumped onto Zhuo Riyan's head, crouched low, and whispered urgently, his voice barely audible.
"Master, let's do symbiotic cultivation. Now. Even a bit more strength gives us a fucking chance."
Zhuo Riyan didn't hesitate.
He nodded once.
Right where he had crashed, he crossed his legs and sat down, ignoring the lingering pain. His breathing steadied as he entered cultivation. Little Cat pressed a paw against his scalp, their auras resonating.
Spiritual qi surged from the surroundings, pouring into Zhuo Riyan's body. It was raw, violent, but he forced it down, refining it into beast qi as his beast veins groaned under the pressure.
Crimson-black energy began to circulate.
The white-haired woman noticed immediately.
She glanced at him once, sharp eyes narrowing slightly as she sensed the fluctuation of qi. But she didn't interfere. As long as he didn't try to run or do something stupid, she didn't give a shit.
Her attention shifted back toward the forest, where faint screams and collapsing qi waves told her the pink-haired woman was finishing off the Beast Mountain Sect disciples.
Beside her, Zhuo Riyan's wounds began to close.
Cracked flesh knitted together. Cracked bone repaired. His exhausted beast qi slowly recovered, flowing more smoothly than before.
Then it happened.
A sudden surge.
Zhuo Riyan's veins flared with light as another set of beast veins snapped open. At the same time, Little Cat's aura spiked violently. Their connection deepened, their lifebound resonance locking together.
Crimson-black energy erupted between them like a pulse.
Boom.
Both of them broke through.
Fourth Level of Beast Vein Stage.