The beasts withdrew as they had come.
Without ceremony.
Scouts reported it first—smaller packs, scattered movements, migration routes returning to ancient paths long recorded in sect archives. Patrols encountered fewer confrontations. Villages once evacuated cautiously reopened their gates.
The borderlands exhaled.
Mo Yun stood atop the watchtower at dawn, gazing out across a valley that had once roared with beast cries and clashing steel. Now, wind stirred grass and carried only silence.
"The manipulation has ended," Shen Yue said beside him.
"Yes," Mo Yun replied. "Which means its purpose was fulfilled."
They both knew what that meant.
This border had been tested.
And had not broken.
Joint orders were issued that afternoon—not with urgency, but with calm finality. Temporary formations were dismantled methodically. Supplies were inventoried and sealed. Combat-ready disciples were rotated back to internal sect duties.
The mission had reached its natural conclusion.
Li Chen oversaw the dismantling of several defensive arrays. He removed the most sophisticated ones first, leaving behind only what a normal sect expedition would reasonably deploy.
Too much preparedness invited questions.
As he worked, he felt no resistance.
No gaze lingered.
That alone confirmed it.
That evening, Li Chen walked the battlefield one final time. He stopped where blood had soaked deepest into the earth, where Elder Qin's manipulations had once funneled beasts into slaughter.
You didn't win, Li Chen reflected. You were deemed unworthy of further attention.
To him, that was a victory.