Steel rang out again.
In the span of a few breaths, two bodies had already fallen.
A cultivator at the **third layer** collapsed before he could even comprehend what had happened—his throat pierced clean through as the jade spear flashed past him like a streak of green lightning. Another, a **fourth-layer** practitioner, attempted to retreat, only for the glaive to curve mid-flight and slice him from shoulder to hip. Blood sprayed across the stones.
A third, also fourth-layer, barely survived, stumbling backward with a ruined arm, screaming as qi surged uncontrollably through his meridians.
At the center of it all, the fox moved.
Calm. Precise. Cruel.
All three weapons danced around it as if alive, forming a rotating execution field. The scarred man gritted his teeth, veins bulging as he forced more spiritual energy into his body.
"**Masicka Crest!**"
A crest of jagged light burst forth, runes flaring as a wave of destructive qi surged toward the fox.
The fox didn't dodge.
It didn't retreat.
It stepped **into** the attack.
Its defensive barrier flared to life—translucent, layered, ancient—absorbing the blow with a dull *boom* that rattled the ground. Cracks spread across the crest as the energy dispersed harmlessly.
The scarred man's eyes widened.
Before he could react, the fox was already there.
A flash.
Pain exploded across his side as the fox struck, claws and weapon moving in perfect synchronization. Blood sprayed as he skidded backward, boots carving furrows into the dirt.
He barely managed to stabilize himself, coughing, eyes wild as he turned to flee.
Too slow.
The fox closed the distance effortlessly, voice calm—almost conversational.
"You must be a foolish one," it said. "Do you see them?"
Its gaze flicked outward.
Around them, figures lurked in the shadows—cultivators watching, circling, waiting. No one stepped in. No one rushed forward.
"They're all waiting for you to die," the fox continued smoothly. "If you'd all come at once, you might have taken me down. Easily, even."
It leaned closer, weapons humming softly around it.
"But why would they?"
The scarred man's breath came ragged.
"You're not allies," the fox said. "You're competitors. You dying just means one less mouth fighting over the spoils."
Silence hung heavy.
The scarred man spat blood and laughed hoarsely, straightening despite the pain.
"You sure do like moving your mouth a lot," he muttered.
The fox smiled.
"Oh," it said softly, eyes gleaming, "that's because I already know how this ends."
Somewhere downstream, beneath the flowing water—
Something invisible shifted.
And the waiting cultivators, still hidden in the dark, had no idea the real hunt hadn't even begun.
The stream **boiled**.
At first, it was subtle—small bubbles rising to the surface, the water trembling as if heat had seeped into the earth itself. Then the bubbling **stopped**.
Dead silence.
Every cultivator present—those fighting, those hiding, those waiting to profit—felt it.
Their attention snapped toward the stream.
Then—
**BOOM.**
Water **exploded upward** as a massive form burst from the stream in a violent splash. The ground shook. A wave surged outward, soaking the banks as something enormous rose into the air.
A **three-serpent mass** made entirely of water hovered above the stream.
Three thick, water-dense necks coiled together from a single, monstrous body. Water poured off their forms, hissing as it struck the ground. Each serpent head swayed slowly, eyes glowing with a cold, predatory light.
Rain cascaded from their forms like a liquid curtain.
For a heartbeat—
No one breathed.
The fox's eyes narrowed slightly, the faintest curve of amusement brushing its mouth.
The scarred man froze, blood dripping from his side, pupils shrinking.
"A… beast?" someone whispered hoarsely from the treeline.
The pressure hit next.
A **sixth-layer aura** rolled outward—dense, savage, unmistakable. Not refined like a cultivator's, but heavier… older… **hungrier**.
The three serpent heads lowered in unison, gazes locking on the gathered cultivators below.
Then, from the center head, a low voice echoed—calm, distorted, and utterly merciless.
"Found you."
The hunt had just changed.
And now, the ones who had come to prey—
Had become the prey.
The moment the serpent **lunged**, the forest **erupted into chaos**.
Leaves shredded into the air. Trees cracked as cultivators burst from concealment—no more patience, no more waiting. The hunters scattered in every direction, boots tearing through the dirt, spiritual light flaring as panic set in.
"MOVE—!"
A fourth-layer cultivator barely finished shouting before a serpent head snapped toward him, jaws opening wide. Wind screamed as compressed water detonated—
**BOOM.**
His defensive artifact shattered like glass. His body was hurled through three trees before vanishing into the undergrowth, lifeless before he even hit the ground.
Others reacted faster.
"DEFENSIVE FORMATION!"
A group of cultivators slammed their palms together, talismans igniting as overlapping barriers snapped into place. Wind, earth, and metal qi intertwined just as the second serpent head struck—fangs coated in venom, crashing down.
**CRACK—CRACK—SHATTER.**
The formation held for half a breath… then collapsed. Two cultivators were crushed outright, bones snapping as blood sprayed across the forest floor.
The third serpent body froze, turning into solid ice as its head reared back, cold mist flooding its throat.
"ICE—!"
Too late.