The aftermath of the battle left the clearing eerily quiet. The wounded were tended to, formations slowly dissolved, and scouts were dispatched to ensure the beasts had truly retreated. On the surface, it was a hard-earned success.
Yet beneath that calm, unease spread like a slow-acting poison.
Mo Yun stood near a broken stone outcrop, wiping the blood from his blade. His brows were tightly furrowed, not from exhaustion, but from a growing realization that refused to leave his mind.
"They withdrew too cleanly," he said at last.
Han Zhi, seated nearby while River Sect disciples recovered their qi, glanced up. "You noticed it too."
Mo Yun nodded grimly. "Every time we adjusted our formation, the beasts responded almost immediately. Not just reacting—anticipating."
Shen Yue approached, her expression serious. "It wasn't instinct. Several times, they avoided positions we hadn't even committed to yet. As if someone already knew what choice we would make."
Silence followed her words.
That silence was heavy.
No one liked where this line of thought led.
Later that evening, the sect leaders gathered in a concealed ravine, layered with sound-isolation and concealment formations. This was not a council meant for ordinary disciples.
Li Chen stood at the edge of the gathering, arms folded, saying nothing. He did not sit at the center. He did not preside.
This discussion did not belong to him.
Mo Yun broke the silence. "The manipulator's knowledge is too precise. Our routes, our response times, even our fallback options—it's as if they were reading from the same plan we were."
Han Zhi exhaled slowly. "At first, I thought it was just skill. But during the third engagement… the beasts avoided a kill zone only three of us knew about."
Shen Yue's fingers tightened unconsciously. "That information was shared only during the joint briefing."
The implication settled heavily over the group.
A traitor.
Not among the beasts. Not even among lower disciples.
But among those with access.
Among them.
No one spoke for a long moment.
Cultivators were accustomed to external threats—rivals, enemies, demonic cultivators. But an internal betrayal was far more dangerous. It corroded trust, turned cooperation into hesitation, and transformed every word into a potential weapon.
"Let's be precise," Mo Yun said carefully. "We should not jump to conclusions. If there is a leak, it could be indirect—someone under influence, controlled unknowingly, or passing information without understanding its value."
Shen Yue nodded. "Agreed. Especially if upper-realm forces are involved. The methods may not be obvious."
At the mention of the upper realm, several elders stiffened.
Han Zhi spoke more quietly now. "That pulse earlier today… I felt it too. Brief. Clean. Refined. That was not something a lower-realm manipulator could produce alone."
No one argued.
Li Chen finally spoke, his voice even. "If upper-realm influence exists, it does not necessarily mean direct interference. It could be observation. Pressure. Or guidance given to a single individual."
All eyes turned to him.
"Meaning," Shen Yue said slowly, "someone here might not even realize they're being used."
Li Chen inclined his head slightly. "Precisely."
That possibility made things worse.
Mo Yun straightened. "Then we proceed carefully. No accusations. No confrontations. We test."
"How?" one elder asked.
Shen Yue answered, "We fragment information. Each leader receives slightly different operational details—routes, timings, formations. If the manipulator responds precisely to one set… we'll know which path the leak flows through."
Han Zhi added, "And we rotate command authority during engagements. If the enemy adapts faster to one leader's decisions than others, patterns will emerge."
The plan was sound.
Cold. Calculated. Necessary.
Li Chen said nothing more, but inwardly, he approved. This was leadership born under pressure, not reliance on a single pillar.
As the meeting concluded, the leaders departed one by one, each burdened by unspoken suspicion. Allies hours ago now eyed one another with subtle caution—not hostility, but restraint.
Mo Yun lingered behind, gazing into the forest where the beasts had vanished.
"To think," he muttered, "we prepared for monsters… but the real danger may be standing beside us."
Li Chen stepped closer, still not taking center stage. "Doubt can destroy a force faster than any enemy. Be careful how you carry it."
Mo Yun nodded slowly. "I know. But ignoring it would be worse."
Li Chen's gaze drifted briefly upward, toward the unseen sky beyond the canopy. Somewhere far above, forces beyond this battlefield might be nudging events forward, amused or indifferent to the chaos below.
And somewhere closer—far closer—someone was feeding information to the shadows.
The beast tides were no longer just a trial of strength.
They were a test of trust.
And until the traitor was revealed, every victory would carry the taste of uncertainty.