The next instant—
he vanished.
No transition.
No warning.
Just gone.
The space where Little White hovered collapsed inward.
**BOOM.**
Air detonated as a claw tore through the void he had occupied.
Fast enough to leave no afterimage.
But Little White wasn't there.
A flicker of lightning.
He reappeared above—untouched.
The sky cracked.
**CRACK—**
Blue arcs descended—not wild, but guided.
They struck precisely where the tiger reformed, forcing him back a single step.
Only one.
But enough.
The White Bone Tiger King glanced at the scorched ground, then back upward.
"…Fast."
No anger.
No irritation.
Just evaluation.
Then—
he moved again.
Faster.
This time, the forest itself reacted.
Trees shattered in his wake as pressure erupted outward, his figure blurring into existence beside Little White, hand already forming a strike.
Not at the body.
At the core.
A killing blow.
Clean.
Final.
Little White's eyes flicked once.
And the world tilted.
Gravity twisted—not downward, but inward.
Space around the tiger compressed violently, stalling his movement for only a fraction of a moment.
But that fraction was enough.
Lightning erupted at point-blank range.
**BOOM.**
The impact split the sky, forcing the tiger back.
His robes snapped violently in the recoil, feet carving through the air before he stabilized.
Silence fell for half a breath.
Both hovered now.
Watching.
Reassessing.
Below them, the forest had already begun collapsing under the aftershock.
Beasts fled in every direction.
None dared remain.
This was no longer territory.
It was a battlefield.
The White Bone Tiger King exhaled slowly.
"…Interesting."
His eyes gleamed faintly.
Not cold anymore.
Engaged.
"You're not here to test."
A pause.
"…You're here to stall."
The conclusion was precise.
Correct.
Little White didn't deny it.
Didn't confirm it.
But the slight lift of his claw said enough.
The tiger's smile sharpened.
"…Then let's see how long you can."
His aura surged.
The forest bowed.
Pressure descended like a collapsing mountain as his cultivation fully unfurled.
Not merely a territorial king.
Something far closer to the peak of this realm.
Above, Little White's golden eyes narrowed.
For the first time, his expression shifted.
Not fear.
Not concern.
Focus.
Because now—
this was no longer simple distraction.
This was a real fight.
The tiger's fingers locked into a precise seal.
His lips moved softly.
Yet the world listened.
"…Feathers… ascend beyond the sky…"
"…White crane—"
Spiritual energy condensed violently around him, layering and compressing into something pure.
"…splitting the heavens."
**CRACK—**
The sky fractured.
Not physically.
Conceptually.
A vast luminous silhouette unfolded overhead.
A white crane of light descended.
Its wings stretched wide—elegant, yet terrifying.
But its feathers were not feathers.
They were blades.
Thousands of them.
Each humming with lethal intent.
Each carrying perfected killing force.
The air screamed.
The forest bent under the pressure as trees snapped and earth ruptured.
The tiger's gaze remained locked on Little White.
Cold.
Certain.
"Break."
The crane moved.
Not rushing.
Not diving.
It simply descended.
And the world split beneath it.
Invisible lines carved through space, wind, and sound alike.
Everything parted cleanly before its fall.
Little White did not move.
Did not dodge.
Did not rise.
He simply watched.
Golden eyes steady.
Unblinking.
Then—
his claw lifted.
"…Slow."
The word was quiet.
But absolute.
Lightning condensed inward along his scales—not expanding, but compressing.
Dense.
Heavy.
Refined.
The crane reached him.
And the moment it did—
Little White flicked his claw.
**BOOM.**
The sky detonated.
Not from impact.
From rejection.
The crane shattered instantly, dissolving into fragments of collapsing light before it could complete its descent.
The pressure broke violently, waves of force expanding outward in rippling rings that flattened the forest below.
Silence followed.
Brief.
Sharp.
The tiger had not moved.
His arm remained raised, fingers still locked in the formation.
But his eyes had changed.
Not shock.
Not disbelief.
Recognition.
"…So."
His voice lowered.
Measured again.
"…not just bloodline."
A step forward.
Cracks spread beneath his foot.
"…you came prepared."
Little White lowered his claw slowly.
"…you talk too much."
The tiger's lips curved slightly.
Not a smile.
Something sharper.
"Then I'll speak with my hands."
The space between them tightened.
Not as threat.
But as beginning.
And far away—deep within the territory—
the fox moved unseen.
While two monsters prepared to tear the sky apart.
The fox moved without hesitation.
Her banner slipped free as if it had a will of its own, floating beside her while she reached into the unseen and called out. The air rippled in response. A ghost answered first—then another—until she had bound it fully to her command.
"Lead me," she ordered softly.
The spirit obeyed.
It drifted ahead, guiding her through the warped stretch of terrain where reality felt thin, like a wound that never fully closed. The fox followed, expression unreadable, wings half-spread as if ready to cut through space itself if needed.
Then she stopped.
Not because of danger.
Because of recognition.
Ahead, hovering in quiet defiance, was the Bewitching Heart Fox.
A black-haired girl stood suspended in the air, fox ears twitching faintly, a matching tail swaying behind her. Her pink-purple eyes were sharp—too sharp—and a strange mark rested on her forehead like a seal that did not belong to this world.
She was watching the battlefield below.
Watching her master's confrontation with the beast at the peak of Foundation Establishment.
But the moment the fox arrived, her gaze shifted.
Straight onto her.
The distance between them meant nothing.
Time itself seemed to hesitate.
The fox's banner drifted to her side as she stood still, wings slowly unfolding. They regarded each other like two mirrors that refused to reflect the same image.
Finally, the fox spoke.
"So you're there… Meihu. The Bewitching Heart Fox."
Her voice carried calm familiarity, as though speaking to an old rumor made flesh.