The clearing lay broken by shadow.
Firelight flickered weakly at the edge of the camp as most of the guards slept, the flames burning low and uneven. Beyond the circle of light, the forest pressed inward, dark and dense, its shapes overlapping until depth was lost entirely.
Chen Ming stood still.
His gaze fixed on the space between the trees and the nearest carriage, where the darkness had begun to move against itself. Leaves parted without wind. A shape slid forward, low and soundless, its outline barely separating from the night.
It stepped into the light.
The demonic beast was long and lean, its body built close to the ground like a hunting cat. Dark fur clung tight to muscle, broken by faint patterns that shifted as it moved. Its eyes reflected the firelight in dull gold, unblinking, its jaws parted just enough to show rows of curved teeth slick with saliva. Claws pressed into the soil without sound as it circled closer to the carriage.
Chen Ming moved.
He crossed the distance at an angle, feet light against the ground, placing himself between the beast and the wagon without drawing attention from the camp. The beast noticed him at once, head lowering, shoulders rolling as it changed direction.
Chen Ming thought, Rank one demonic beast?
Demonic beasts cultivated differently from humans. Where human cultivators refined their bodies step by step, demonic beasts tempered themselves through instinct, blood, and survival. On the same realm, a demonic beast possessed greater physical strength, denser flesh, and sharper senses than a human cultivator. A rank one demonic beast stood equivalent to the Bone Reinforcement realm, its body hardened enough to tear through stone and steel alike. Higher ranks only widened that gap further.
The beast lunged.
Its body surged forward in a blur, claws cutting through the air where Chen Ming had stood a moment earlier. He twisted aside, the movement tight and economical, feeling the wind of its passage brush past his ribs. The ground cracked faintly as the beast landed, pivoting instantly for another strike.
Chen Ming did not retreat.
He stepped in, then away, adjusting his position as the beast snapped and swiped, its tail whipping behind it to correct its balance. Each attack came faster than the last, driven by hunger and proximity, but none reached him fully.
He ran.
Not away, but around.
The beast followed, circling tighter, its breath hot and wet as it snarled. Chen Ming vaulted over a fallen log, landed, and turned just as the beast cleared it in a single bound. Its claws scraped his sleeve, tearing fabric, drawing a thin line of blood along his arm.
Chen Ming drew his sword.
Steel flashed as the blade came free, the sound sharp in the night. The beast twisted mid-air, claws striking against the flat of the blade as Chen Ming deflected the blow. The impact numbed his arm, the force heavier than it appeared.
They separated.
Blood dripped from the beast's shoulder where the sword had grazed it. A thin line ran along Chen Ming's forearm, red against pale skin.
The beast roared and charged again.
Its jaws opened wide, teeth closing in on his throat. Chen Ming stepped forward instead of back. His right hand shot out and drove into the beast's mouth, palm pressing hard against its tongue as its jaws clamped shut around his forearm.
Bone cracked.
Pain flared and vanished.
In the same motion, Chen Ming's sword rose and fell.
The blade cut cleanly through fur, flesh, and bone, splitting the beast from shoulder to hip. Its body collapsed in two heavy halves, momentum carrying them forward before they struck the ground and lay still.
Silence returned.
Chen Ming withdrew his arm and looked down at the wound where teeth had broken skin and muscle. Blood ran freely for a moment before slowing. He sheathed his sword and reached into his robe, pulling out a white ribbon. He wrapped it around his hand carefully, tightening it until the bleeding stopped.
He turned.
His gaze settled on the carriage the beast had been approaching. His eyes narrowed slightly as he drew in a slow breath through his nose, the scent lingering in the air sharper now than before.
"Idiot," he said.
He did not wait to see who might have heard.
Chen Ming walked back toward his horse, the forest closing in behind him as the night swallowed the clearing once more.
Morning came without warmth.
Mist clung low between the trees as the caravan stirred back into motion. Lanterns were extinguished, ashes scattered, and the carriages rolled forward once more. Horses snorted softly as they were urged into line, hooves sinking slightly into damp earth before finding firmer ground.
Positions were taken again.
Zhou Kang and Li Sen moved ahead. Gu Han and Qiao Wen settled toward the rear. Chen Ming and Wu Zhen rode in the middle, keeping pace beside the central wagons, hands resting near their weapons as the forest closed around them.
They entered the Blackwood Forest.
The road narrowed almost at once. Trees grew thick and close, their trunks dark with moisture, branches weaving overhead until the sky was reduced to thin, broken strips of gray. Sunlight struggled through the canopy, reaching the ground in faint patches that shifted and vanished as the caravan passed. The air carried the smell of damp bark and old leaves.
Wu Zhen glanced sideways.
His eyes settled on the white ribbon wrapped around Chen Ming's right hand.
"How did you injure your hand?" he asked.
"A rank one demonic beast," Chen Ming said.
Wu Zhen's eyes widened. "When? Where? Why didn't you wake us up?"
"Last night."
Wu Zhen stared at him. "Last night?" he repeated. "How could a demonic beast come out of the forest with so many of us around? Did you go in alone?"
Chen Ming did not answer. His gaze remained forward, following the line of the road as it dipped and curved between the trees.
Wu Zhen let out a breath. "I know you don't like talking," he said, his voice lower now, "but at least—if you're in danger—call for help."
There was no reply.
They rode on.
The forest deepened. Shadows thickened beneath the trees, and the sounds changed. Distant roars echoed faintly, layered and uneven, followed by stretches of silence that felt stretched too thin. Something moved now and then beyond sight, branches shifting where no wind passed.
The caravan slowed.
Then stopped.
A shout carried from the front.
"Stop! There's a rank two beast here!"
Chen Ming leaned sideways in his saddle and looked ahead.
Between the trees, a large demonic wolf had emerged, its body broader than a horse, fur dark and matted along its spine. Its eyes burned with a dull red glow as it lunged again, jaws snapping toward Zhou Kang. Zhou Kang met it head-on, spear driving forward as he braced his stance, the impact forcing him back half a step.
Chen Ming straightened.
"Get ready," he said.
Wu Zhen frowned. Several nearby guards glanced toward him, confusion flickering across their faces.
Chen Ming drew his sword.
Steel slid free with a soft, controlled sound.
Movement rippled through the forest.
One shape broke from the shadows. Then another. Then more.
Demonic wolves emerged from between the trees, dark forms slipping into view from every direction. Ten. Then more. Their eyes reflected faint light as they spread out, forming a loose ring around the caravan, low growls threading together into a constant, rumbling sound.
Chen Ming's voice cut through it.
"Demonic wolves hunt in groups."
Steel met flesh across the forest floor.
Each guard took an opponent as the pack closed in. Wolves lunged from different angles, claws scraping stone and roots as blades flashed in response. Shouts cut through the growls, brief and sharp, as the caravan drivers pulled the horses tight and held position.
Wu Zhen turned toward Chen Ming as he brought his saber up to block a snapping jaw.
"Don't fight," he said. "You're already injured, these are just rank one beasts. Look after the carriages."
Chen Ming nodded.
He did not move forward. His eyes followed the pack instead, watching how the wolves shifted, how they pressed and withdrew.
"Target," he said after a moment, "the area below their abdomens."
Wu Zhen glanced at him. Then he nodded.
The next exchange was different.
Wu Zhen ducked under a wolf's swipe and cut upward instead of across. The blade sank deep. The beast collapsed with a dull sound.
"Below the abdomen!", Seeing it working, Wu Zhen shouted. "Attack below the abdomen!"
The call carried.
Gu Han adjusted immediately, stepping inside a lunging wolf's reach and driving his blade low. Li Sen followed, twisting his body aside and slashing upward. Zhou Kang's spear struck short and direct, punching through where fur thinned and flesh gave way.
Wolves began to fall.
One after another, their bodies hit the ground, movements slowing, then stopping entirely. Blood soaked into the forest floor, dark against damp leaves.
At the center of the caravan, a strip of cloth shifted.
From the carriage with the horizontal curtains, a single strip was pressed down.
Dark blue eyes watched.
A wolf near the wagon twitched. Then it sprang, launching itself upward despite the blood soaking its flank.
A sword flashed.
The wolf was cut down mid-leap, its body splitting cleanly before it struck the carriage. The pieces fell apart as they hit the ground.
The strip snapped shut at once.
Chen Ming looked at it.
His gaze lingered for a breath, then moved on.
A heavy roar thundered from the front of the caravan.
The rank two demonic wolf staggered as Zhou Kang drove his spear through its chest. The beast lurched forward once more, then collapsed, its body striking the ground with a final, hollow impact.
Silence spread outward.
The remaining wolves lay still. Weapons lowered. Breath came heavy as guards straightened, relief easing into their movements.
Some laughed quietly. Others wiped blood from their blades.
Chen Ming looked at them.
Irritation flickered in his eyes. He clicked his tongue.
"Move fast."