Dawn never truly came.
The fog thinned just enough for visibility, but the forest remained dim, as if light itself was reluctant to step forward. Broken trees, scorched earth, and scattered talisman remnants marked the battlefield of the previous night. The disciples stood in weary silence, weapons dulled, robes torn, but eyes sharper than before.
Mo Yun knelt beside a claw-marked stone, fingers brushing the surface. "These beasts are no longer charging blindly," he said quietly. "They are observing outcomes."
"That's comforting," a disciple muttered. "Our enemies are now thinking."
Shen Yue exhaled. "They were thinking before. Now they're refining."
That was when the ground trembled.
Not violently—deliberately.
From three directions, the forest shifted. Trees bent unnaturally, roots crawling like serpents beneath the soil. This wasn't a wave. This was a net.
"Formation Delta!" Mo Yun barked.
The disciples moved instantly—no hesitation, no confusion. Shields layered. Support cultivators synchronized breathing rhythms. Those who specialized in movement took flanking positions without being told. Their coordination was imperfect, but it was real.
The beasts emerged.
They were larger than before, but size wasn't what made them terrifying. Their eyes glowed faintly with runic patterns, and their movements were eerily restrained. One feinted an attack, drawing a defender forward—only for another to strike from below.
"They're baiting reactions!" Shen Yue shouted.
"Then stop reacting!" Mo Yun snapped back. "Predict!"
A junior disciple panicked, launching an attack too early. The beast twisted aside with inhuman precision.
"—And that's why we don't improvise heroics," Mo Yun muttered, already redirecting qi to compensate.
Despite the danger, someone actually snorted.
"I almost died and he's still lecturing," another whispered.
"Comforting, isn't it?"
Pressure mounted quickly.
A beast broke through the outer defense, forcing a healer into retreat. Another disrupted a formation node, causing qi feedback that sent two disciples tumbling backward. Yet instead of chaos, adjustments followed.
Shen Yue reinforced failing wards mid-combat, teeth clenched. "I'm running low!"
A disciple from another sect stepped in, replacing her sigil with a compatible array. "Then breathe. I've got this."
She blinked—then nodded.
Growth wasn't flashy. It was quiet, practical, and earned under threat of death.
At one point, a beast lunged for Mo Yun himself. Before anyone could react, three disciples intercepted simultaneously—none of them the strongest, but all perfectly positioned.
Mo Yun froze for half a breath.
Then smiled.
"Not bad," he said. "You almost made me unnecessary."
"Almost?" one gasped while blocking another strike.
"Let's not get carried away."
Then came the moment that chilled everyone.
The beasts… retreated.
Not in panic. Not in disarray.
They withdrew cleanly, in sequence, disappearing into the fog as if satisfied.
Silence returned—but it felt heavier than before.
"They tested us," Shen Yue said slowly. "And decided they learned enough."
Mo Yun's expression darkened. "No. They adjusted parameters."
Far away, unseen eyes shifted their focus.
They survived faster than expected, the hidden observer thought. Their bonds are forming earlier. That's… inconvenient.
A faint ripple of intent spread through the forest—subtle enough to escape detection, but strong enough to alter future tides.
As the disciples regrouped, exhaustion finally caught up.
One disciple collapsed flat on his back. "I swear, if the next wave breathes funny, I'm surrendering."
Another tossed him a ration pill. "Eat. You can surrender after digestion."
Even Shen Yue chuckled quietly.
Humor didn't erase fear—but it dulled its edge.
Mo Yun addressed them all. "What we faced today wasn't strength—it was pressure. You adapted. You trusted. You covered each other's flaws. That matters more than talent."
He paused, gaze sweeping the group.
"And remember this: whoever controls these beasts is watching how you think, not how hard you hit. From now on, assume every move you make is being recorded."
The laughter faded.
Resolve replaced it.
That night, as the camp settled, the forest shifted once more—not with beasts, but with intent.
Something deeper was stirring.
The disciples slept unaware that this was no longer a mission of suppression, but the opening act of something far larger—something that would soon demand sacrifices, choices, and consequences that could never be undone.
And somewhere beyond the lower realm's veil, interest—once waning—began to flicker again.