Chen Mo continued carefully along the ridges, his senses sweeping the surroundings with surgical precision. The sun was dipping behind the mountains, casting long shadows that twisted among the trees. Ahead, he spotted a small, jagged opening at the base of a rocky outcrop, partially concealed by overgrown vines and thick bushes.

  He approached slowly, scanning for any lingering aura of beasts or humans. The air inside the opening was cool and still, untouched by the wind that rattled the branches outside. Pushing aside a few vines, he stepped inside and discovered a narrow, dry little cave. Its floor was smooth enough to sit or lie on, and the walls were high enough to provide shelter from rain or wind. Small crevices along the walls offered natural storage for supplies, and the cave’s mouth was angled just enough to remain hidden from casual eyes wandering the forest.

  Chen Mo crouched and ran his hand along the rocky floor, nodding to himself. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was safe, discreet, and quiet. The cave had the natural advantage of concealment and security, perfect for someone who intended to cultivate in secrecy and avoid both mortal and immortal eyes.

  “This will do… for now,” he muttered under his breath.

  He began moving his few belongings inside, arranging them neatly, the space becoming his temporary domicile. From this vantage, he could monitor the forest paths, sense any approaching danger, and, most importantly, immerse himself in cultivation without interruption. For the first time since leaving the city, he felt a faint sense of control over his life—and over his destiny.

  The mountains weren’t as quiet as Chen Mo had hoped. Among the rustling leaves and the faint scent of damp earth, a team of Qi Refining cultivators was making their way carefully through the trees and jagged ridges. Their movements were precise, disciplined—a hunting party that had survived more than one encounter with the wilderness. Leading them was Xiong Tao, an imposing figure whose aura radiated the strength of an 8th-level late-stage Qi Refining cultivator.

  “The Ironhorn Stag must be nearby,” Xiong Tao’s voice cut through the crisp mountain air, calm but commanding. “Stay alert. We need to pinpoint its exact location before it senses us.”

  Pan Yu, a 6th-level cultivator, adjusted the trapping formation plate he carried and muttered nervously, “Boss… with this, the beast won’t stand a chance.”

  Xiong Tao’s sharp gaze swept across the ridges. “Idiot. That beast is a late-rank 1 demonic creature. If we get spotted before laying the formation, it won’t matter how many plates you carry. It could still turn this into a fight we might not survive.”

  Pan Yu swallowed hard, bowing slightly. “Yes, Boss.”

  Xiong Tao’s eyes narrowed as he continued, “By the way… have they found who killed those four cultivators at the forest entrance?”

  Pu Yu, a member of the team, grimaced. “Senior Deng Wu is losing it. His younger brother was slaughtered… brutally. Whoever did it is in serious trouble.”

  Xiong Tao’s voice darkened. “Not necessarily. Look at the scene—you tell me, do you know anyone capable of that?”

  Pan Yu hesitated. Indeed, among the cultivators in this region, Body Refining techniques were widespread but shallow. Most could at best match early-stage Qi Refining fighters. The truly formidable practitioners—those capable of annihilating multiple middle-stage cultivators in a single strike—were rare, almost exclusively from distant sects like the Golden Pillars Immortal Sect, far beyond these mountains.

  The team moved on cautiously, unaware that the very predator they discussed—the silent, untouchable force capable of such carnage—was already hidden nearby, observing the hunters with the patience of a shadow.

  Chen Mo froze behind the brush, his eyes scanning the seven hunters like a shadow measuring every angle. He had stumbled into a group far stronger than he anticipated. His instincts screamed caution. Even if he could annihilate a few middle-stage cultivators like last time, Xiong Tao—a late-stage 8th-level Qi Refining cultivator—was a different predator entirely. One wrong move here, and the hunter would become the hunted.

  Xiong Tao raised his hand sharply, halting the team. Pan Yu and the others froze instinctively. Xiong Tao’s aura was oppressive; the sheer weight of his spiritual sense could pierce through mountains if it wished. His gaze locked onto the nearby bushes. “Come out,” he commanded, gesturing. Immediately, his team spread into a semi-circle, gradually tightening the perimeter.

  Chen Mo’s jaw tensed. He had underestimated the dangers of these mountains after his earlier successes. His ignorance of cultivator hierarchies had nearly cost him his life. He had no choice but to act. Slowly, deliberately, he emerged from his hidden spot, keeping his movements measured and calm.

  Xiong Tao’s eyebrow arched. “A first-level Qi Refining junior… this deep in the mountains?” His voice carried authority and suspicion, tinged with cold calculation. Memories of the mysterious Body Refining murders sharpened his awareness; every minor anomaly could be the hand of the culprit.

  Chen Mo cupped his hands in a gesture of courtesy, voice steady. “I was just passing through… trying to find my way back to the city. I got separated from my group.” He knew he couldn’t convince them entirely, but the goal was to buy time—to assess weaknesses, calculate escape routes, and decide whether fleeing or fighting was feasible.

  Pan Yu’s tone dripped suspicion. “Boy, do you take us for fools? Maybe he’s a spy from another team.”

  Xiong Tao’s eyes narrowed, calm yet menacing. “Or maybe… he’s the Body Refining guy Deng Wu’s been hunting. Everyone, stay sharp. Don’t underestimate him just because his cultivation is shallow.”

  At that, the group stiffened. Swords gleamed, talismans hovered, and spiritual energy began to hum like a taut string.

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  Pan Yu whispered, voice tightening with excitement, “Boss… Senior Deng is paying 500 spirit stones for any information on that murderer. Maybe luck is on our side today.”

  Chen Mo’s face hardened. The situation had escalated far beyond a simple encounter. He realized immediately: he had no choice but to act—and fast—if he wanted to survive.

  Chen Mo did not waste another breath. Negotiation was a painted door on a burning house.

  His Threaded Movement activated.

  His body blurred.

  “Careful!” Xiong Tao roared.

  But Chen Mo was already moving, aiming straight for the weakest point in the encirclement, a fifth-level Qi Refining cultivator positioned slightly to the left. Break one node, tear the web.

  The man reacted quickly, spiritual qi surging as a flying sword shot forward in a streak of light.

  Chen Mo did not dodge.

  He punched.

  The strike carried Innate realm force layered with hardened true qi. The flying sword shattered on impact, splintering into fragments that scattered like metallic rain. Before the cultivator could even register disbelief, Chen Mo flashed beside him.

  At the same instant, Xiong Tao moved.

  Wind surged beneath his feet. His Wind Steps technique carried him forward like a gale given human form.

  “Trying to escape? Dream on!”

  Chen Mo’s heart tightened.

  Too fast.

  Xiong Tao was closing the distance with terrifying efficiency. Spiritual sense locked onto him like a hawk’s gaze pinning a rabbit in open field.

  Threaded Movement alone would not be enough.

  Chen Mo gritted his teeth.

  Burst Mode.

  The first activation detonated within him. His muscles screamed as explosive force propelled him forward, instantly widening the gap between him and Xiong Tao.

  Then danger struck.

  A slicing pressure erupted behind him.

  Wind blades.

  They were impossibly fast, condensed arcs of compressed air shrieking through the trees. Dodging them by normal means would be a gamble with death.

  Second Burst.

  His figure vanished from the original position just as the wind blades carved through it, shredding bark and splitting stone where he had stood.

  No pause.

  Xiong Tao adjusted instantly, his spiritual sense tracking Chen Mo’s new location. Another volley of wind blades screamed forward.

  Third. Fourth. Fifth Burst.

  Each activation hammered Chen Mo’s body, draining stamina at a brutal pace. His vision sharpened and blurred at the same time, the world narrowing into trajectories and killing intent.

  Sixth. Seventh.

  The forest exploded behind him as wind blades cut trenches into the earth.

  By the eighth Burst, fatigue crept into his limbs like cold water filling bone. His movements slowed by a fraction.

  It was enough.

  One wind blade grazed him.

  Then another clipped his back.

  Pain erupted like fire poured directly into flesh. His robes split. Blood sprayed. The burning sensation tunneled through muscle, and for a split second his body staggered.

  But stopping meant death.

  He forced breath into his lungs and prepared the ninth Burst.

  And then—

  A roar shattered the mountains.

  Deep. Furious. Close.

  The commotion had disturbed something powerful.

  Spiritual qi shifted violently ahead. Trees shook as a massive presence stirred within the forest.

  Chen Mo’s eyes flashed.

  This was madness.

  But madness was better than certain death.

  Ninth Burst.

  He changed direction sharply, charging straight toward the source of the roar.

  Behind him, Xiong Tao’s face darkened.

  Ahead, something enormous moved.

  Chen Mo did not look back.

  This was his final gamble.

  “Pan Yu! Formation plate ready! The Ironhorn Stag is ahead!”

  Xiong Tao roared the order while glancing back at his struggling team. The forest had turned chaotic. Spiritual fluctuations clashed, trees splintered, wind blades shredded bark.

  He had no choice but to slow. If he outran his formation support and faced the beast alone, even he could fall.

  Ahead, Chen Mo burst through the final line of trees and came face to face with it.

  The Ironhorn Stag.

  It was massive, nearly three meters tall at the shoulder. Dark iron-gray hide layered its body like natural armor. Two enormous antlers curved upward, metallic and jagged, faintly glowing with demonic qi. Its eyes burned with territorial fury.

  The beast locked onto Chen Mo instantly.

  Despite its size, it moved with terrifying speed. The ground trembled as it charged.

  Chen Mo clenched his fists. His back burned where wind blades had torn flesh, blood seeping down his robes. He faced the charging beast head-on.

  At the very moment of impact—

  Tenth Burst.

  His body detonated sideways in a blur, changing direction completely and vanishing into a thicket of dense bushes.

  The Ironhorn Stag’s massive charge carved through empty air. It skidded violently, confusion flashing through its beastly instincts.

  Then new auras flooded its perception.

  Xiong Tao’s wind blades arrived first, slamming into the beast’s iron hide with metallic clangs. Sparks erupted. The stag roared, fury escalating as more cultivators emerged from the forest line.

  Within moments, Xiong Tao and his group regrouped, forming a battle perimeter around the enraged demonic beast.

  “Use everything!” Xiong Tao commanded sharply. “Exhaust it first! Pan Yu, deploy the formation plate when I give the signal!”

  Spells flared. Talismans ignited. Sword light danced through the trees.

  Pan Yu hesitated briefly. “Boss… what about that body refining guy?”

  Xiong Tao’s eyes remained fixed on the stag. “Forget him. We won’t abandon a guaranteed thousand spirit stones chasing a wounded rat. He’s injured. He won’t run far.”

  His voice hardened. “But if we lose this stag after months of tracking, everything goes to waste.”

  The team tightened formation.

  Wind blades sliced. Sword arcs struck. Fire talismans detonated against iron hide.

  The Ironhorn Stag roared in rage, antlers glowing brighter as it retaliated, its massive body turning the forest into a battlefield.

  And somewhere deeper in the woods, bleeding and exhausted, Chen Mo forced himself forward.

  He had bought his life.

  Now he just had to keep it.