The scarred man's eyes widened—just a fraction—as the three weapons moved in perfect, murderous harmony.
Then he laughed.
A low, rough sound scraped out of his throat.
"As expected," he said, gaze burning with naked greed. "High tier Earth-grade spiritual tools… and more than one at that. Following you really was the right choice."
His hand dipped into his sleeve.
A sharp clang rang through the clearing as he drew his own weapon—a broad, serrated saber etched with blood-red runes. The moment it cleared the sheath, violent qi erupted outward, chopping through leaves and grass at his feet.
Fifth layer, fully unleashed.
"Hand them over," he said, leveling the blade at the fox. "And I'll be so polite and might leave your corpse intact."
The fox tilted its head, unimpressed.
"You people always talk like the tools belong to whoever's standing last," it replied. "The funny thing is—"
The black spear snapped forward, stopping a breath away from the scarred man's throat, its tip humming with restrained force.
"—they already chose their owner."
The jade spear flickered, circling high above, while the glaive dragged a shallow line through the earth, carving a crescent trench as it built momentum.
Behind the scarred man, the others shifted—forming a loose encirclement. Blades slid free. Talismans flared to life, one after another. Most were fourth layer. One had barely stepped into the fifth.
The fox exhaled slowly.
"Don't worry," it said softly. "I'll make sure you get a good look at everything before you die."
The stream beside them roared louder, as if answering the rising killing intent.
Then the fox stepped forward. Its voice remained calm—almost idle—even as killing intent flooded the clearing.
"And I'll be adding the tool in your hand to my collection as well," it said lightly. "I find it… to my liking."
Its eyes lifted, locking onto the scarred man's.
"And you want to know why I didn't call it yours?"
The fox smiled.
"Because the moment you decided to follow me—nothing you possessed belonged to you anymore."
Not even your life.
The world exploded into motion.
The jade spear screamed through the air first, piercing forward like a streak of green lightning. The scarred man cursed and raised his saber, runes blazing as metal crashed against metal—
CLANG!
The impact hurled him backward several steps, boots carving furrows through the soil as he struggled to regain his footing.
At the same time, the black spear vanished—
Then reappeared low, skimming the ground as it swept toward the legs of the cultivator on the left. Blood sprayed as the man howled, his knee torn open before he could even finish activating his defensive talisman.
The glaive followed.
Not fast.
Not flashy.
Just inevitable.
It carved a wide arc, spiritual pressure crushing down as two fourth-layer cultivators were caught mid-movement. One was split cleanly from shoulder to waist. The other was hurled into a tree with bone-shattering force, bark exploding outward on impact.
"Formation—!" someone shouted.
Too late.
A ripple passed through the air.
The scarred man's pupils shrank.
"What—?!"
The jade spear lunged again, forcing him to block, and in that instant the fox stepped forward, divine sense crashing down like a crushing tide.
"You should've run," the fox said quietly. "But since you didn't—"
The weapons closed in from all sides.
"—let's finish this."
The lizard moved without sound.
Invisible. Weightless.
As steel clashed and spiritual light tore through the clearing, it walked calmly through the chaos, claws brushing past flying debris, blood mist drifting through where its body should have been.
It asked inwardly, voice steady.
How many cultivators are present—and what are their levels?
{System}
The reply came instantly.
[Scan complete.]
[Total targets: 21.]
[Third Layer: 5.]
[Fourth Layer: 8.]
[Fifth Layer: 5.]
[Sixth Layer: 3.]
The lizard paused mid-step.
…Twenty-one.
Its head tilted slightly.
Way more than last time. And stronger.
Memory surfaced unbidden—the last sixth-layer cultivator it had faced. The desperation. The gamble. The soul attack that had torn the enemy's apart at a cost it could still feel.
I don't have that now.
And there were three of them.
But—
Its chest rose slowly.
I'm also at the sixth layer now.
The lizard stopped.
It stood at the edge of the stream, water rushing softly past smooth stones, the sound almost peaceful compared to the slaughter raging behind it. The fox's aura flared in controlled bursts—precise, lethal—as cultivators fell one after another.
The lizard stared down into the flowing water.
Still invisible.
Still blind.
Yet it could feel everything.
The vibration of footsteps.
The turbulence of qi.
The subtle disturbances as bodies fell and blood struck the ground.
A decision settled within it.
No hesitation.
No theatrics.
The lizard bent its legs—
—and leapt.
Its body sliced cleanly into the stream without a splash, slipping beneath the surface like a shadow returning home. Cold water rushed over its scales, washing away scent, sound, presence.
The current took it.
Invisible beneath the surface, wings folding tight, body streamlining as it let the flow carry it downstream—away from the heart of the battle.
Toward the edges.
Toward the hunters who thought themselves safe.
Above the water, a sixth-layer cultivator frowned, suddenly glancing around.
"…Did you feel that?"
He didn't sense anything—yet an unease crawled up his spine, a lingering sense of wrongness he couldn't place.
The stream flowed on, quiet and unassuming.
And beneath it—
The lizard was.