The lizard paused, a dull throb pulsing behind its eyes.
…Still can't see.
A low, irritated thought crossed its mind. Vision was important. Without it, it was vulnerable—and it remembered all too clearly how close it had come to disaster in the last fight.
It exhaled slowly through its nostrils, annoyance mixing with a gnawing hunger. **If it couldn't see, it couldn't hunt properly.** And if it couldn't hunt, it couldn't survive.
First things first—its vision had to be fixed.
Lowering its head, the lizard dropped the storage pouch to the floor and pinned it down with both front paws. A thin thread of Qi flowed from its body, seeping into the pouch.
*Click.*
The mouth of the pouch opened.
The lizard tilted it sharply upside down.
Bodies spilled out.
One after another, **cultivator corpses** tumbled onto the floor—some intact, some scorched, others broken beyond recognition. Weapons clattered. Armor scraped against stone. The scent of blood, metal, and fading spiritual energy flooded the room.
When the pouch was finally empty, the lizard flicked it aside without a second glance.
Then its body **shifted**.
Bones stretched with soft cracks. Muscles filled out. Scales rippled as it grew, stopping only when it stood once more **slightly larger than a house cat**, solid and heavy with latent strength.
It stepped forward, claws clicking against the floor.
The lizard lowered its head and sniffed the nearest corpse.
Residual Qi.
Lingering soul fragments.
Life that hadn't fully dispersed.
Its tongue flicked out.
*Eating them…*
*…will heal my eyes.*
The thought felt **right**—instinctive, unquestioned, the same way it knew how to hunt or spin silk without ever being taught.
The lizard crouched.
Slowly, deliberately, it opened its maw—
and leaned toward the first body.
Then—
It **bit down**.
Flesh tore.
A wet, crunching sound echoed through the sealed room as teeth sank into muscle and bone alike. The corpse jerked once from the force before going still again, lifeless weight dragged closer as the lizard **devoured without hesitation**.
Crunch.
Rip.
Swallow.
Its jaws worked steadily, methodically. This wasn't frenzy—it was **feeding with purpose**.
As meat and shattered bone disappeared down its throat, faint wisps of **residual Qi** leaked free, drawn irresistibly toward the lizard's body. The energy clung to its scales before seeping inward, guided by instincts older than thought.
The sounds filled the room.
*Crack.*
*Gnash.*
*Gulp.*
Blood pooled beneath its claws, faint steam rising as body heat and Qi broke everything down with brutal efficiency. Each swallow sent a dull warmth spreading through its core, radiating outward—into muscle, into nerves…
…into its **eyes**.
The fog clouding its vision trembled.
Not gone—but thinner.
{System} Gained 4000 evolution points
Encouraged, the lizard dragged the next corpse closer.
Then the next.
The rhythm continued, the room echoing with the unmistakable sounds of consumption as body after body was reduced to nothing—robes, flesh, even fragments of bone crushed and swallowed. The air grew thick with blood and spiritual residue, quickly suppressed by the room's formations.
{System} Gained 2000 evolution points
With each corpse consumed, the warmth intensified.
Its breathing deepened.
Its scales faintly glimmered.
Its pupils tightened, struggling to focus.
{System} Gained 3000 evolution points
The lizard paused briefly, lifting its head as its chewing slowed. It **tested its sight**.
Still blurry.
…but no longer blind.
It swallowed.
Then lowered its head again—and continued eating.
---
### **SCENE SHIFT**
The city had not yet recovered.
Even days after the attack, the scars remained—collapsed rooftops hastily reinforced with spirit wood, scorched stone along the outer districts, and cultivators moving through the streets with guarded eyes. White Hollow City still breathed, but it did so cautiously, like a wounded beast.
Beyond the city walls, several dozen li away, mist clung low to the land.
There lay the forest that earned its name from the dark, vein-like patterns running through its ancient trees, their dense canopies blotting out much of the light even at midday. Mist coiled between roots thick as serpents, weaving across the forest floor.
This place was infamous among local cultivators.
A land where demonic beasts roamed freely—many already having stepped into **Foundation Establishment**.
It was known as **Blackveil Forest**.
A hunting ground for demon beasts.
A burial ground for the careless.
Within its depths, multiple demonic beasts at the Foundation Establishment realm were known to roam freely. Ordinary cultivators avoided it unless forced—or desperate.
Even sect disciples entered only under strict orders, and never alone.
And yet—
Three had gone in.
Now, three figures stood at the forest's edge.
They wore the robes of the **Cloud River Sect**, pale blue trimmed with silver thread, the emblem of flowing clouds stitched across their chests. Their edges were dirtied from days of travel, and their auras—disciplined, restrained—carried the unmistakable pressure of Foundation Establishment cultivation.
They had followed the trail for two days.
And now, they had found it.
—or what remained.
Inside a dark cave, the eldest of the three knelt first. He moved ahead, stopping at the cave's opening before bending down.
There, lying on the cave floor—
**Torn robes**, soaked dark with dried blood. Fragments of cloth lay half-buried in the soil. The fabric was unmistakable.
Cloud River Sect robes.
The blood had dried black along the edges.
"…Found them," he said quietly.
The other two approached.
There were no bodies.
No bones.
Nothing that could even be called remains.
Only scattered robe fragments clung to thorn bushes and exposed roots, soaked in old blood and faint traces of residual Qi—violent, chaotic, unmistakably demonic.
One of the disciples clenched her fists. "Not even bones…"
The third, a lean young man with sharp eyes, crouched and pressed two fingers to the ground. He closed his eyes, circulating Qi through his senses.
"Foundation Establishment demonic beasts," he said after a moment. "More than one. At least two. Possibly more."
He opened his eyes, expression grim.
"They wandered too deep into the forest," he continued. "Likely drawn in by a false trail or a spiritual disturbance. They never stood a chance."
Silence settled over the clearing.
This forest did not leave corpses behind.
Demonic beasts consumed everything.
The eldest disciple rose slowly. "We can't retrieve anything more. There's nothing left to bring back but this."
He straightened.
"This is where they ended," he said calmly. "Or at least where they were consumed."
A heavy silence followed.
The assumption was obvious.
Their missing juniors—dispatched on a routine sect mission—had strayed too deep into Blackveil Forest and encountered something far beyond their ability to survive.
A tragic, but not unheard-of fate.
"We should return," the eldest said at last. "Report to the sect. There is nothing more to be done here."
The second nodded slowly. "Agreed."
The eldest carefully gathered the robe fragments, placing them into a storage pouch.
"Our mission ends here," he said. "We return and report their deaths."
They turned to leave.
But the youngest hesitated.
"Before we go," he said, eyes narrowing slightly, "we should enter the city."
"…Senior Brother," he continued, glancing toward the distant outline of **White Hollow City**, faintly visible beyond the hills. "Have you heard the rumors?"
The eldest paused.
"Which ones?"
"That the city was attacked," the younger disciple said. "By demonic beasts. That the Li Clan's Foundation Establishment elders were all killed."
The air shifted.
The female disciple frowned. "I heard the same on our way here. I dismissed it as exaggeration."
"So did I," the youngest replied. "But after seeing this…"
He gestured toward the blood-stained clearing.
"…I'm no longer so sure."
The eldest disciple's gaze darkened.
"If even part of those rumors are true," he said slowly, "then something unusual is happening in this region."
After a moment, he made his decision.
"We'll detour," he said. "Before reporting back, we enter **White Hollow City**."
The other two looked at him sharply.
"To verify the rumors," he continued. "And gather information. If demonic beasts capable of slaughtering Foundation Establishment cultivators are moving this close to sect territory…"
His voice hardened.
"…the Cloud River Sect must know."
With that, the three disciples turned away from Blackveil Forest, leaving behind only blood-soaked leaves and silence.
Behind them, deeper within the forest, something stirred.
A ripple of Qi passed between the ancient trees—brief, subtle, and gone before any ordinary cultivator could sense it.
And far ahead, White Hollow City waited—
Still standing.
Still bleeding.
And unknowingly drawing the attention of powers that would not stop at rumor alone.