To avoid chaos, the disciples of Phantom Spirit Valley quickly distributed the topographic maps of the North Slope. With a wave of Hu Zongren's cloud-patterned wooden staff, the crowd surged into the North Slope like a tide and vanished in an instant.
A imposing young man in a blue robe, a blade of dry grass in his mouth, sauntered lazily at the rear, his expression relaxed—as if he were not here to fight for his life, but on a leisurely outing.
This was the very man who had first questioned Hu Zongren. Though young, he exuded the authority of a natural leader.
"Senior Brother Fan, hurry! If we're late, we'll have come for nothing!"
A fellow sect disciple behind him urged anxiously.
"Pah, pah, pah!" The blue-robed man spat out the grass bits, saying confidently, "What's the rush? Waiting to be reborn?"
"Hmph! Since we're here, we have to be the final winners. Let others hunt our prey for us—why not take the easy way?"
The disciple suddenly understood. "Senior Brother Fan, you mean those demonic beast corpses?"
He clapped his hands exaggeratedly, excitement flashing across his face. "Ah! Why didn't I think of that! They'll carve a bloody path ahead, and in their rush, they won't have time to collect the beasts. We'll follow behind and reap the rewards without lifting a finger—brilliant!"
The blood, bones, demon crystals, and fur of these beasts could be used for alchemy and artifact forging—all extremely valuable. Normally, hunting them required forming teams in the sect, and one wrong move could lead to injury or even death.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!
Sure enough, as they followed the path the other cultivators had taken, they found demonic beast corpses of all sizes and shapes littering the way.
While the group was happily picking up spoils and working up a sweat, not far away, Ren Yi was fleeing in utter panic.
Chasing him relentlessly was a small cat-like demonic beast called a *Bocicat*.
Though small in size, it had two enormous fangs in its tiny mouth and was exceptionally agile, hard to catch.
Its claws were also razor-sharp; a single scratch could leave deep marks even in hard stone—far beyond what Ren Yi could withstand.
"Roar~~"
With a low beastly roar, the Bocicat leaped into a fierce pounce.
After just a few encounters, Ren Yi had learned its habit: it always roared before attacking.
"Good grief! Not again!"
He didn't look back, just sprinted faster. A *rip* sounded—though he wasn't skinned by the Bocicat, his already tattered clothes were torn to shreds, making him look even more wretched.
If he kept running like this, he'd be done for. Just as Ren Yi was fleeing for his life, a *thud* echoed: a large demonic beast suddenly flew in from the side and crashed straight into the Bocicat.
The Bocicat was tiny; before it could even make a sound, it was smashed into pulp.
The large beast dripped blood from its mouth, its body covered in wounds. It struggled a few times but couldn't stand, already on its last breath.
Ren Yi looked around ecstatically, saw no one approaching, and immediately stepped forward, ready to butcher it.
There had been no sign of people along the way; he'd been sleeping rough and starving for days, and now desperately needed food to fill his stomach.
The Bocicat's death had been too miserable—Ren Yi had no appetite for it.
He'd been lucky today: hidden in the woods, he'd found a dead man's belongings. No gold or jewels, but he'd scavenged a small dagger and flint, essential tools for the wild.
With great effort, he cut off two thighs from the large beast and dragged them toward a cave. Just these two had rubbed his fingers raw; he couldn't manage any more.
The flesh and hide of an adult demonic beast were extremely tough—he wasn't even sure he could chew them, and he felt a little nervous as he thought about it.
Not far from where the large beast had flown, two sects' disciples were locked in battle.
On the thick snow, eye-catching "red plums" bloomed—disciples had already been injured, even killed.
"Fan, you brat! I'll remember this grudge—just you wait!"
An older cultivator shouted, then yelled to his disciples behind him, "Retreat! I'll hold them off!"
He pulled several throwing darts from his belt and shot them at the pursuers, buying a moment's delay.
The disciples stopped fighting and fled into the jungle, vanishing without a trace.
The pursuers were about to charge and intercept them, but the blue-robed man stopped them with a shout: "Let them go! Do not pursue a routed enemy!"
A disciple stepped forward, bowed respectfully, and asked, "Senior Brother Fan, should we still look for the beast's corpse?"
Though they all wore ordinary disciple robes, it was clear the blue-robed man held high status—everyone obeyed him without hesitation.
"Find it, we must. That's a rare adult Cloud Rhinoceros, huge—perfect for making me a set of armor."
The blue-robed man gestured to the others. "Follow me, move fast—don't let someone else take the spoils."
The disciples scattered at once, searching in different directions.
"I found it! I found it!"
A disciple's cry rang out, drawing the others over immediately.
"Damn! Who did this?!"
Staring at the beast's half-eaten corpse, the blue-robed man's calm expression shattered. He flew into a rage, slamming his fist into the snow.
Mud and water splattered everyone, but no one dared to complain—they only moved more cautiously.
"Se-Senior Brother Fan… the guy must have a powerful weapon. Otherwise, he couldn't have dismembered such a huge beast. If we run into him, we might not fare well. Maybe we should—"
*Slap!* A harsh slap was his answer.
The blue-robed man said coldly, "Whoever ruined my prey must pay with their life. Find him! I'll skin him, pull out his tendons, and make him pay in blood!"
The slapped disciple cursed himself silently for opening his mouth, covered his swollen face, and joined the search.
The snow in the sky seemed never to stop—it had been falling nonstop for half a month since winter began. In just a cup of tea's time, the tracks on the ground were almost covered.
But this was no problem for cultivators with boundless magic power. They might not have great abilities, but they knew many tracking spells.
The slapped disciple pulled out a small bamboo tube, poured out a plump white caterpillar, bit his fingertip, and dripped blood onto it, muttering silently:
*"Xuan Ling Ji Rong, Yong Bao Chang Sheng; Tai Xuan San Yi, Shou Qi Zhen Xing!"*
("Mysterious Spirit, Eternal Glory; Guard Long Life. Great Xuan, Three Ones; Keep the True Form!")
After three recitations, the wriggling caterpillar suddenly froze. Its plump white body quickly turned red and swelled, and in an instant, it became a small red meat ball, motionless.
The disciple tossed the meat ball into the large beast's corpse. Soon, the ball began to spin on its own, then burst open.
A flying insect with wide wings—like a butterfly, but far more ferocious—suspended eerily in midair.