At night, the elders layered wards upon wards, brilliant weaves of qi forming a dome of protection. Disciples took shifts standing watch, but everyone knew the true guardians were the elders who never once allowed their vigilance to drop.
Whispers spread in hushed tones around the campfires.
"Why aren't the beasts attacking anymore?"
"Do you think they're… waiting?"
"Waiting for what?"
"For us to go deeper."
Han Yu listened, but did not add his voice. He kept his eyes on the darkness outside the wards, and in his heart, he agreed. The silence was not mercy. It was patience.
On the fourth day inside the inner ring, the peak heads themselves cut down a creature so immense that the disciples could scarcely comprehend it—a Marsh Leviathan Python, its scaled bulk taller than the trees. It was at the Dao Shell realm, and stronger than any other beast that Han Yu had ever seen.
