The next morning dawned bright, the pale gold of early sunlight spilling across the sect's outer training fields. The forge smoke from yesterday's work still lingered faintly in the air, a reminder of the hours Haotian had spent crafting every blade, bow, spear, and set of armor now gleaming in the morning light.
But today, there would be no drills, no obstacle runs.
Haotian stood at the edge of the main arena, hands folded behind his back. His gaze swept the rows of armored guards — his guards — as they filed in, formation tight, every plate and thread of their new equipment freshly polished. The faintest curl of a smile touched his lips. They carried themselves differently now; the weight of their weapons no longer slowed them, it drove them forward.
Lianhua stepped beside him, arms crossed. "They're ready. The question is… for what."
A deep gong sounded from across the field. The far gate swung open. From its shadowed maw emerged a dozen figures clad in dark sect colors — the sect's elite combat disciples. These weren't trainees. These were warriors who had seen battle outside the sect walls, each carrying a weapon honed to lethality and the confidence of someone who'd used it for real.
The crowd of disciples and Forging Hall elders that had gathered yesterday had doubled. Now the stone terraces were packed shoulder to shoulder, the hum of expectation in the air. They wanted to see if Haotian's freshly equipped unit could stand against veterans.
"Rules are simple," Lianhua called, her voice carrying across the field. "Full-contact, live weapons. Fight until you're disarmed, down, or unable to continue. Haotian will oversee and step in when he deems fit."
The opposing lines formed. Sunlight flashed along curved sabers, long spears, and bowstrings already drawn.
Haotian's voice was calm, but it carried weight. "Formation Alpha. Maintain three-point marker spread. Do not let them break the triangle."
The gong struck again.
The elite surged forward. The first clash rang like struck bronze — a spear haft meeting a reinforced lamellar shoulder plate. One of Haotian's guards slid under the strike, flicking his wrist to plant a runic impact marker against the attacker's side. The symbol flared gold, detonating a half-second later and sending the veteran stumbling.
A female guard in the high-mobility brigandine set darted between two heavier foes, her twin sabers catching the morning light in silver arcs. She moved faster than the crowd expected, the armor flowing with her, and carved a shallow cut along a veteran's thigh before vanishing behind her shield-bearing comrade.
Haotian watched with that faint celestial shimmer in both eyes — the Eyes of the Universe tracking micro-adjustments in stance and angle. "Rotate left. Spear unit, anchor point two. Bows, shift elevation — third rib target," he called, his instructions slicing through the chaos.
The unit moved as one.
A hammer strike rang against a male guard's scale mail, the impact absorbed by layered steel and leather. He stepped in, locked the attacker's weapon arm, and delivered a palm strike that drove his foe back two paces.
The elites adjusted tactics, pressing hard at the flanks, but each time, Haotian's unit bent without breaking. His voice cut in at precise moments — "Switch footing!" "Release at the shoulder!" "Advance!" — each command tightening their coordination until the guards began driving the veterans back.
Then, without warning, Haotian stepped into the fight himself.
His hand closed around the hilt of a guard's spare jian, and in the blink of an eye, he was between two of the elite. A parry, a pivot, the blade sliding under a spear haft before locking the wielder's weapon aside — and then a single, precise strike to the collarbone that dropped the veteran to one knee.
The other lunged; Haotian's eyes flashed, and his movement blurred — the jian's edge ringing as it deflected a cut at impossible speed before he struck the opponent's wrist, disarming them cleanly.
The crowd roared.
By the time the gong struck again, the elite lay disarmed, exhausted, or on the ground nursing bruises and shallow cuts. Haotian's unit stood, breathing hard but upright, formation still intact.
Lianhua gave a sharp nod. "Field-worthy."
The Forging Hall elders, some of whom had been skeptical, exchanged glances heavy with unspoken admission — this was no longer just a group of guards. Under Haotian's hands, they had become a weapon in their own right.
Haotian sheathed the jian and addressed his team. "You've proven the weapons. You've proven yourselves. From here… we sharpen further."
The sun had already sunk past the mountains, leaving only a band of amber light across the horizon. The sect's council chamber glowed with warm lamplight, its high beams casting long shadows over the polished floor. Around the round jade-inlaid table, the elders of each Hall took their seats, their robes whispering against the lacquered chairs.
Elder Mingshu, his hair silvered but his frame still tall and straight, rested both hands on the table's edge. His eyes carried the weight of one who had seen hundreds of disciples rise and fall — yet tonight, there was a spark of rare intrigue in them.
"The Forging Hall reports," he began, voice steady, "that the weapons and armor created for Haotian's team are without flaw. More than that — they are innovations that our own masters could not replicate without years of experimentation. And the performance trials…" He paused, letting his gaze sweep the table. "Were beyond expectation."
Several elders murmured agreement, the alchemy elder stroking his beard with a knowing smile. "It is no small thing," he said, "to craft with such precision and then prove the results under live combat drills."
The martial elder leaned forward. "Then the logical next step is deployment. We should give the boy's team an external mission — something worthy of testing the synergy he's built."
A few dissenting voices rose, arguing over risk, over politics, over whether they should let such a young group act without strict oversight.
Elder Mingshu listened, unmoving, until the room's noise began to swell.
He finally raised a hand. The chamber fell silent.
"You speak of oversight," he said, "but you forget — the moment they leave these walls, they answer to the world, not to us. If we smother them now, we may as well admit that all this forging and training was for nothing."
His words hung in the air.
Before a vote could be taken, a messenger entered, bowing low. "Honored elders — Haotian's team has already left the council's jurisdiction. They have registered themselves as an official hunting party in the mission hall."
The martial elder frowned. "Without authorization?"
The messenger hesitated. "They took a monster-hunting mission. Target: a rhino beast in the western range, cultivation level — Core Transformation."
A ripple of tension spread through the chamber. Several elders began speaking at once, some alarmed, others curious.
Elder Mingshu, however, only exhaled a slow breath and allowed the faintest smile to touch his lips.
"Then it seems," he said, "the debate is already settled."
Outside, far from the council's lamplight, Haotian and his companions were already on the move. Under the pale glow of the rising moon, their new weapons gleamed, armor plates whispering against fabric and leather as they crossed the mountain pass. Lianhua led the formation with quiet confidence, the others falling into step.
For them, the hunt had already begun.
The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth as Haotian's team descended into the western ranges. Their boots crunched over dry leaves, the rhythm of their movement steady and unhurried, yet every step set to the beat of trained coordination. The moon, nearly full, rode high above the jagged peaks, painting silver light across their newly forged armor.
Lianhua moved at the front, her long braid swaying with each measured step. She held a slim bamboo tube in hand — a scent-tracking tool from the sect's beast-handling division. "The rhino beast's musk is heavy here," she murmured without turning her head. "It's not far."
Ranging just to her flank, Jinhai scanned the underbrush with practiced precision, his glaive held loosely but ready. Behind him, two of the others carried crossbows modified for piercing spiritual hides, the steel heads faintly glowing from Haotian's earlier enchantments.
Haotian brought up the rear, not because he lacked trust, but because his vantage allowed him to watch the formation as a whole. Every shift in weight, every subtle hesitation — he caught them all. And in his mind, he was already calculating responses if the rhino beast charged from any angle.
A faint rumble shivered through the ground beneath their feet.
The team froze as one.
Another rumble, deeper this time, rolled through the earth. A breath later, the faint tang of crushed vegetation reached them on the wind.
"Northwest slope," Haotian said quietly, eyes narrowing.
Lianhua nodded once. "Spread. Keep visual."
They slipped apart like threads unraveling from a single knot, each taking a flanking path toward the sound. The moonlight broke against the slope ahead, revealing a clearing rimmed with blackthorn trees.
There — standing in the center of trampled grass — was the rhino beast.
It was massive, its hide the mottled gray of weathered stone, each movement rippling with muscle. A pair of short, jagged horns jutted from its snout, the foremost glowing faintly with condensed spiritual energy. Every exhale sent puffs of steam into the night air, and its eyes glimmered with a predator's intelligence.
The ground shook with every step it took as it tore up clumps of soil, grazing, then lifting its head sharply — ears twitching.
It had scented them.
From their hidden positions, the team tightened their grips on weapons. The air between them and the beast seemed to thicken, a silent drumbeat rising in their chests.
Haotian's voice carried softly through the link he had placed on them earlier."First contact — keep the formation tight. I'll draw its focus. You work the flanks."
The rhino beast snorted once, then lowered its head. A faint hum built around its horns, and the grass at its feet began to swirl.
It was about to charge.
The hum at the rhino beast's horns became a thrumming roar in the air, vibrating through the marrow of everyone's bones. With a bellow that split the night, the beast hurled itself forward, hooves pounding like war drums against the earth. Each impact cracked the ground, sending sprays of dirt skyward.
"Now!" Haotian's voice cut like steel.
He stepped forward, palms curling into the air — spiritual light flashed along his fingers as he drew the beast's gaze to him. The rhino's eyes locked on the gleam, and its charge sharpened into a lethal line straight at him.
To the left, Lianhua vanished into a low roll, darting behind a thorn tree. Her twin sabers hissed free, each blade catching the moonlight as she prepared to cut at the beast's hind legs. On the opposite flank, Jinhai's glaive spun in a crescent, the edge trailing a streak of condensed wind qi, ready to cleave at the knee joint when it thundered past.
The beast closed the distance in heartbeats.
Haotian's heel struck the ground. BOOM. A shockwave rippled outward as he slid into stance, one hand on the hilt at his hip, the other steady before him. The moment the rhino's horn entered striking range, his blade flashed — a sliver of silver light that rang like a bell.
CLANG! Sparks erupted where steel met horn. The impact shuddered through the clearing, forcing the rhino to veer slightly — just enough for Lianhua to burst from cover.
Her sabers crossed in a high arc, qi bursting from the blades in twin crescents of silver. They struck the beast's flank with a THRUM, carving shallow lines in its stone-hard hide. The rhino bellowed in pain and fury, its head whipping toward her.
"Move!" Haotian's shout snapped her into motion — she dove aside just as Jinhai's glaive slammed into the back of the beast's foreleg. The blow sent a ripple through its massive frame, and for a fraction of a second, its momentum faltered.
That was enough.
Two crossbowmen loosed at once — the bolts whistled through the night and struck deep into the creature's shoulder. The beast roared, shaking its head violently, qi spilling from its horns in a chaotic wave.
Haotian's eyes narrowed. He stepped in, blade drawn low, and released a burst of force through the ground beneath its hooves. CRACK — the soil shattered, and the rhino's footing went out from under it.
"Finish the legs!"
The team swarmed in unison, striking at joints, tendons, and weak points in perfect rhythm. Lianhua's sabers flashed in alternating arcs, Jinhai's glaive carved from high to low, and the crossbowmen shifted to flank shots aimed for the gaps in armor plating.
The rhino roared again, staggering — but its qi flared once more, and in the next breath, it kicked off the earth with terrifying power, aiming to crush Haotian under its full weight.
Haotian didn't step back. He stepped into the charge.
His blade lit like lightning as he drew in one clean motion, the arc cutting from earth to sky. A shockwave blasted upward, colliding with the beast's chest mid-leap. The impact spun it sideways, crashing it into the blackthorn trees with a sound like splitting stone.
Leaves and splinters rained down as the beast struggled to rise — only to find Haotian standing over it, point of his sword at its throat.
Its massive chest heaved. Steam rolled from its nostrils.
Then, slowly, it lowered its head in submission.
Steam curled off the rhino beast's hide in the cool night air, its sides heaving with each ragged breath. The moonlight caught the dull sheen of its cracked horn, the once-pristine spiral now marred with Haotian's strike mark.
No one moved at first.
Lianhua's sabers remained drawn, one angled toward the beast's throat, the other held defensively. Her voice was low, but sharp. "We kill it now. It's wounded — leave it, and it will heal, grow stronger… and maybe come for revenge."
From the other side, Jinhai planted his glaive in the ground, eyes fixed on the beast. "Its core is at least mid-grade. Taking it would more than pay for the mission costs. That's coin and resources we can't waste."
One of the crossbowmen spoke from the shadows, bolts still nocked. "We've already brought it down. Why risk it waking up or fighting again?"
Haotian didn't answer immediately. His blade tip rested against the earth, his gaze locked with the rhino's — not with aggression, but with calculation. Through the faint golden shimmer in his pupils, the Eyes of the Universe traced the flow of qi through the beast's body. Its core pulsed erratically, not from weakness, but from a defensive qi loop, one that would stabilize in time.
"It's not just a beast," he said finally, voice calm but carrying. "Its patterns… show restraint. It could have killed one of us with the first charge, but it didn't. It's territorial, not mindless."
"That's sentiment," Lianhua shot back, taking a step closer, "and sentiment gets people killed."
Jinhai frowned, glancing between them. "What's your call, Haotian? We either claim its core or we walk away with nothing."
The rhino shifted slightly, a low rumble escaping its throat — not a threat, but a sound that almost felt… questioning. The moonlight caught in its dark eyes, reflecting Haotian's still form.
He exhaled once, sharp and deliberate. "We take the horn shard from the fight as proof for the mission hall. Leave it alive."
The crossbowmen exchanged uncertain glances. Lianhua's jaw tightened, but she stepped back, blades lowering. "Your decision, your responsibility," she muttered.
Jinhai drove his glaive into the dirt, letting the tension bleed from his shoulders. "Then we move. The longer we stay, the more likely something else smells blood."
Haotian knelt, pressing his palm to the ground. Qi surged from his fingers into the earth, forming a glowing seal beneath the rhino's hooves — a silent warning for it to stay within its territory. The beast's eyes flickered once, then it lumbered upright, limping back into the thornwood without looking back.
Only when the forest swallowed it whole did anyone breathe normally again.
By the time the spires of the sect came into view, dawn had smeared the horizon with molten gold. The group moved at a steady pace, boots striking stone as they crossed the outer causeway. The air was still crisp from the night, but their armor carried the musk of battle and forest grit.
They walked straight through the sect's east gate, bypassing the main plaza and heading for the mission hall. The early disciples training in the courtyard turned to stare, their eyes catching on the fresh cracks in Lianhua's sabers, the horn shard slung over Jinhai's back, and the mud-smeared plates of Haotian's armor. Whispers began before they reached the steps.
"Is that from the rhino beast?"
"They don't look like they dragged back a corpse…"
"…Then they failed?"
The mission hall's double doors creaked open as they entered, the chatter dimming under the weight of their presence. The attendant behind the counter froze when she saw the horn shard — thick as her forearm, jagged at the base. Haotian placed it on the counter without a word.
Her fingers hovered over it like she feared it might burn her. "This is… proof of subduing a Core Transformation beast."
"Proof enough," Haotian said simply.
Her gaze flicked up, hesitant. "And the carcass?"
Lianhua's silence was sharp. Jinhai glanced to Haotian, who didn't flinch. "It's alive," he said. "Still in its territory. It won't bother the villages."
The murmur in the hall turned from curiosity to shock.
"You let it go?" someone scoffed from the benches. "That core's worth a month of sect stipends—"
"—and the hide could have armed ten squads—"
Before the noise could swell, Elder Mingshu himself stepped from the inner chamber, his presence silencing the room. His robe sleeves swept the air as he approached, eyes narrowing on the shard. "So this is the truth I heard in the wind," he said, voice carrying like steel under silk.
He studied Haotian for a long moment. "Mercy is rare in our work. It invites judgment — sometimes danger. But…" His hand brushed the horn's edge. "It also invites questions. And questions… can change how this sect moves."
The attendant stamped the mission slip, sealing it with the sect's mark. "Mission complete," she said quietly, though the tension in the hall didn't fade.
As the team turned to leave, the whispers started again — no longer just about the rhino, but about Haotian himself. Was he reckless? Wise? Or something else entirely?
Elder Mingshu's gaze followed them to the door, unreadable.