At dawn, the first rays of sunlight streamed through Haotian's chamber windows. He closed the final page of the Undying Dragon Sutra, the glowing text fading from his mind into the depths of his memory.
His eyes opened. Calm. Focused.
He stood, washing quickly before donning fresh robes of simple white and gray. His hair he bound behind his shoulders, each movement precise, unhurried.
At last, he approached the tall window of his chamber. With a soft breath, he pushed it open. The cool mountain air rushed in, carrying the faint scent of pine and morning dew.
And then—without a word—his body blurred into motion.
He vaulted outward, his figure dissolving into light. Silent as the wind, he slipped past the detection arrays, weaving through the sect's layered barriers. Not a single ripple stirred in the wards as he vanished beyond them, a ghost against the morning sky.
His direction was set.
By mid-morning, laughter echoed in the courtyards as groups of female disciples gathered.
"Let's go see Senior Brother Haotian!""He must be in the alchemy hall again—"
But the hall was empty.
They searched the gardens, the training grounds, even the kitchens, giggling all the while. But soon their laughter dimmed. There was no trace of him anywhere.
Whispers grew into worry.
"He's not here…""Could something have happened?"
The disciples spread out, their voices overlapping as they searched every corridor. When the alchemy lab remained silent, unease turned to alarm.
By the time an elder was alerted, the words spread like wildfire:
Haotian is missing.
The news reached Ziyue, who paled. When it finally reached Sect Master Yin Xue, her expression hardened.
"What?" Her voice cracked like ice. "Haotian is missing?"
She stood immediately, her robes flaring with the sudden movement. "Spread out. Search the sect, the mountains, every valley! Find him at once!"
"Yes, Sect Master!" Disciples scattered, their cries echoing across the sect grounds.
Just as the courtyard roared into chaos, a young disciple ran breathlessly into the hall, a slip of folded parchment clutched in her hand.
"Sect Master! A letter… this was left at his chamber door!"
All eyes turned as Yin Xue took it. She broke the seal in one swift motion.
The silence in the hall was suffocating as she read aloud the single line scrawled in Haotian's hand:
"Be right back."
The words hung in the air like thunder, silencing even the most frantic cries.
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.
"Be right back."
For a heartbeat, silence gripped the hall. The disciples stared, wide-eyed, not breathing, as if the world itself had frozen.
Then chaos erupted.
A girl wailed and collapsed to her knees. "He left us!"
Another disciple clutched her chest dramatically, swaying until her sisters had to catch her before she fainted. "Why didn't I seize my chance and kidnap him when I could?"
"You fool!" another shouted through her tears. "He didn't even answer me when I asked about becoming his dao companion—why didn't he answer?!"
Cries and laments overlapped, a cacophony of grief and indignation. Some clung to each other, some argued in desperation, and some simply sobbed into their sleeves.
The proud Moon Lotus Sect had become a hive of disorder, undone by one man's absence.
From the far side of the courtyard, Yin Shuyue arrived. Drawn by the noise, she stepped into the scene and froze at the sight of disciples weeping, voices raised in hysteria.
Her calm gaze swept the chaos before she asked, her tone steady, "What happened?"
A younger disciple stumbled toward her, eyes red with tears. "S-Senior Sister… Haotian… he left the sect!"
The words struck Shuyue like a blade. Her breath hitched, her chest tightening as though the world had tilted. Beneath her veil, her lips parted slightly—but no sound emerged.
Her heart pounded violently. A wave of unfamiliar emotion crashed into her: sharp, heavy, unrelenting. Was it sadness? Anger? Fear? She could not name it.
Yet outwardly, her face remained composed, her posture unbroken. To the disciples, she was still the stoic pillar, her emotions sealed away. Only her clenched hand at her side betrayed the storm within.
At the center, Sect Master Yin Xue stood with the letter in her hand. Her eyes narrowed, the delicate paper crackling as she crushed it into her palm.
"Enough!"
Her voice cut through the cries like a sword. "Disperse! Return to your duties! Do you think tears will bring him back? He has chosen his path—our sect cannot collapse into hysteria over one man!"
The disciples flinched, their sobs stifled into silence. Bows were hurriedly given before they scattered, some still sniffling, others whispering feverishly as they retreated.
Shuyue lingered only a moment longer, her eyes locked on the crumpled letter in Yin Xue's hand, before turning away. Her back was straight, but her heart hammered with every step.
Far to the north, Haotian streaked across the skies like a shadow, the cold winds curling around him harmlessly. The frozen peaks loomed in the distance, their glaciers glittering like blades beneath the rising sun.
He breathed deeply, the air sharp but refreshing, and allowed himself a faint smile.
By now, they should have found my letter.
He pictured Yin Xue's sharp eyes, her calculating mind. With my explanation, she'll understand I left for the sect's sake.
But what he didn't realize—what none in the sect knew—was that he had folded the parchment the wrong way.
On one side, he had written clearly:
"I am heading north to confront the source of the disturbance. Do not worry. I will destroy the threat and return."
And on the reverse, a simple line:
"Be right back."
But folded in haste, only the second side showed.
Thus, while he sped joyfully toward the northern danger, confident his intentions were known, Moon Lotus Sect held only three mocking words — a farewell without explanation.
The northern lands stretched endless and white, a frozen wasteland where the wind howled like restless spirits. Snow swept across jagged ridgelines and buried valleys in drifts so deep they swallowed forests whole.
Haotian stood alone at the edge of a glacier, the Fenlong Spear resting lightly in his hand. The sky was a pale gray sheet above, the air so cold it would freeze the marrow of a mortal man. Yet no shiver touched him.
He opened the Eyes of the Universe.
The world changed. The storm ceased to matter. His vision pierced through the veils of snow and fog, through stone and ice, until the basin below revealed itself in stark clarity.
There—spread across the hollow of a frozen valley—was the beast tide.
Tens of thousands of creatures lay sprawled across the snow in uneasy slumber. White-furred wolves, horned frost oxen, scaled serpents coiled beneath sheets of ice. Their breathing rose in plumes of mist, drifting skyward in rhythm like a single monstrous lung.
It was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that crushed the chest and clawed at the heart. The silence before death.
Haotian's fingers tightened around the Fenlong Spear.
Every step he took forward sank into snow with a muted crunch. He inhaled once, slowly. His chi pulsed in answer, flooding through his meridians with steady heat against the frigid air.
The beasts shifted in their sleep, ears twitching, claws scraping against the ice as if sensing the approach of something unnatural.
Haotian's eyes narrowed.
"This ends tonight."
The Heart Core within his chest ignited, its resonance rippling through his veins like thunder trapped beneath the skin. A thin thread of vapor lifted from his body as the snow at his feet hissed into steam.
The storm stilled. The valley held its breath.
And then Haotian moved.
A single step, faster than the blink of an eye, carried him down the frozen slope. His figure blurred, vanishing into the storm, leaving only the faint shimmer of spear-light streaking through the snow.
The slaughter had begun.
The stillness shattered.
Haotian's figure streaked across the snow like a phantom, the Fenlong Spear thrusting forward with a crack that split the air. The nearest beast — a slumbering frost bear the size of a cottage — never even stirred before its skull was pierced clean through. Blood steamed against the frozen air as the body collapsed with a muffled thud.
Another thrust followed, then another. Each strike precise, ruthless, unhesitating. Beasts awoke only to die in the next instant, their roars cut short by the spear's flashing edge.
The Heart Core thundered within him, each pulse sending waves of power crashing through his meridians. His aura poured outward, a storm of killing intent that blanketed the valley.
The tide stirred at last. Wolves raised their heads, serpents uncoiled, oxen bellowed, their eyes burning with fury. A sea of bestial roars erupted, shaking the mountains.
But Haotian did not falter.
He moved like lightning, each step blurring across the battlefield. The Fenlong Spear spun in arcs of death, carving lines of crimson across the snow. Beasts fell in droves, their corpses littering the ground behind him like discarded husks.
The first counterattacks came — a tusked mammoth charged, its ivory horns glowing with frost qi. Haotian sidestepped, the ground cracking under its massive weight, then thrust upward. The spear pierced through the roof of its mouth, brain and qi-core alike shattering in an instant.
A serpent lunged from beneath the ice, jaws wide to swallow him whole. Haotian's body vanished, reappearing above it, spear stabbing downward. The creature writhed, pinned to the ice as blood pooled around it in a steaming lake.
The snowfield was red now, rivers of beast blood flowing across the frozen earth. The air reeked of iron.
But the tide was vast, endless. For every beast slain, a dozen more rose, their eyes blazing with madness.
Haotian's grip on the Fenlong Spear tightened. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, though already veins stood out against his skin, his body pushed to the limit.
Still, his expression did not waver. His eyes of the universe glowed, cold and merciless.
"Come, then," he murmured.
And the valley roared in answer.
The beast tide surged like a living wave, thousands of bodies crashing toward him in a storm of teeth and claws. Their roars drowned the winds, their killing intent pressed down like mountains.
Haotian stood his ground.
He raised his left hand, fingers curling in deliberate rhythm. Chi surged from his cores, twisting the air, bending light. One after another, spheres of crackling lightning flared into being, nine in total, orbiting him like stars around a blazing sun.
The ground trembled. The storm paused. Even the beasts hesitated, instincts shrieking at the sudden surge of destructive energy.
Haotian's eyes narrowed.
"Scatter."
The nine spheres pulsed—and then detonated.
Bolts of lightning lanced outward in every direction, arcing across the snow like rivers of wrath. Entire packs of wolves disintegrated in an instant, their bodies turned to ash. Frost oxen bellowed as their hides split open, bones charred black. The avalanche of beasts collapsed under the bombardment, craters tearing open across the battlefield.
Thunder shook the heavens, avalanches thundered down from shattered peaks.
Haotian moved through the storm like the eye of a hurricane. His spear spun in wide arcs, thrusting and sweeping, cutting down any survivor that slipped through the lightning barrage.
The Fenlong Spear shimmered with an unnatural light. Its tip blurred—no, it pierced through qi itself.
The Voidpierce Spear Art awakened.
Every thrust unraveled more than flesh. Qi barriers shattered, blood cores collapsed, even the vitality within the beasts' bodies scattered like smoke in the wind. A single thrust tore through three, four, five monsters in one line, leaving them lifeless husks before they even struck the ground.
The snow ran red. Steam rose from smoldering corpses.
But the cost showed.
Haotian's breath came faster. His veins bulged like cords beneath his skin, threatening to burst. Blood trickled from his nose, and his grip on the spear trembled ever so slightly between strikes.
Still, he pressed on.
Lightning roared. The spear split the heavens. And the tide broke against him like waves crashing on unyielding stone.
Far above, dark clouds gathered, lightning answering lightning, thunder rolling endlessly. It was as though the heavens themselves had taken notice of the slaughter.
And in the distance—within the cliffs of ice—a deeper sound rose.
A howl.
Long, resonant, filled with ancient fury.
The battlefield stilled.
Even the beasts that remained froze, ears pressed flat, bodies trembling as though that single sound carried the weight of command.
Haotian exhaled slowly, wiping blood from his chin with the back of his hand. His gaze turned toward the cliffs.
"So," he murmured, voice steady despite the strain.
"The king arrives."
The mountains trembled.
The howl did not fade — it grew, rolling across the land in waves. Glaciers cracked, avalanches thundered from peaks, the very air froze into jagged shards of ice. Beasts whimpered and dropped to their bellies, their fury smothered by primal instinct.
And then the source revealed itself.
From the cliffs of ice descended a colossal wolf. Its fur was a blinding white, each strand shimmering like carved crystal. Its paws struck the ground with the weight of falling stars, leaving cracks spiderwebbing across the frozen earth. Its eyes burned like glacial suns, sharp and merciless.
A beast—but no mere beast.
Its aura pressed down upon the valley like the weight of the sky itself, frost qi saturating every breath of air. The beasts scattered and lowered their heads. Even the blizzard quieted.
The wolf's gaze fixed on Haotian.
When it spoke, its voice shook both air and soul.
"Human. You dare to slaughter my kin as they slept? You trespass upon the dominion of the Icebound Peaks, and for what? Arrogance? Madness?"
Haotian's grip tightened on the Fenlong Spear. Blood still stained his chin, but his gaze was steady, his voice low and cold.
"They were an army waiting to strike. You—" he lifted the spear, tip gleaming with killing light— "are a threat that must be erased."
The wolf's lips curled, revealing fangs like jagged sabers of ice.
"I am Bai Leng, Wolf King of the Icebound Peaks. My howl has buried dynasties beneath snow, my claws have shredded sects to powder. My name is carved into the bones of the north."
Its breath spilled from its maw, a freezing gale that iced over the battlefield in sheets.
"And you, little human, dare stand before me?"
Haotian raised his spear, the Eyes of the Universe flashing open. His aura flared, lightning crawling along his veins.
"Then I, Haotian, will carve your name into the dust of history."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. Man and beast, locked in defiance.
Then the Wolf King roared.
The sound ripped the sky. Frost qi surged outward in a storm that shattered the land.
Haotian moved.
Spear clashed against claw. Lightning struck ice.
The battle of giants had begun.
Claw and spear collided, the shockwave splitting the valley floor. Ice shattered in towering shards, snow blasted outward in blinding waves.
Haotian's body blurred, Fenlong Spear tracing arcs of lightning. Every thrust was a storm, every sweep a thunderclap. Yet Bai Leng met him blow for blow, its claws glinting like frosted steel, its jaws snapping with the power to shear mountains in half.
The battlefield became ruin.
Glaciers crumbled into rivers of slush. Frost qi storms howled, twisting the sky into frozen whirlwinds. Each clash of weapon and claw left scars carved deep into the land, valleys splitting, ridgelines collapsing.
Haotian ducked beneath a swipe that could have leveled a palace, spear stabbing into Bai Leng's shoulder. Sparks erupted as the beast's hardened hide resisted, the strike tearing flesh but not piercing deep enough. Blood sprayed across the snow, steaming, but the wolf only roared louder.
A paw slammed down. The ground caved, shockwaves tossing Haotian into the air. He twisted mid-flight, spear anchoring him, lightning erupting from his cores to right his balance.
Then the wolf's jaws opened.
A beam of condensed frost qi erupted, white and blinding, freezing the very air into solid ice.
Haotian spun his spear, channeling the Voidpierce Art. The spear thrust forward, unraveling the beam, shattering the qi into fragments of frozen mist. The backlash rattled his body—blood spurted from his mouth, veins bulged across his arms, muscles tearing from the strain.
Still he advanced.
The Nine Lightning Spheres pulsed again, discharging bolts that exploded against Bai Leng's side. The wolf howled, rolling away, its massive frame crashing into a mountain wall and tearing it down in a cascade of ice and stone.
Yet the beast surged back up, eyes blazing. Its aura did not dim; if anything, it grew fiercer, a storm of killing intent that pressed the battlefield flat.
Haotian planted his spear, panting. His vision blurred at the edges, blood streaming from nose, ears, even his eyes, but his gaze remained locked on Bai Leng.
The Wolf King bared its fangs. "You bleed, human. You tear yourself apart. How long before your body shatters?"
Haotian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, lightning flickering across his shoulders.
"As long as it takes to kill you."
They charged.
The day burned away in battle. The sun sank low, vanishing behind bloodied clouds, yet still they fought. Wolves, serpents, oxen—all lesser beasts were caught in the crossfire, disintegrated by the shockwaves of their struggle.
Mountains leveled. Valleys collapsed. The north itself trembled.
At dusk, neither had fallen. Haotian's body quaked under strain, his robes soaked with blood. Bai Leng's hide was torn in dozens of places, crimson streaks matting its once-pristine fur.
Still they clashed.
Until at last, as the first stars appeared in the frozen sky, Bai Leng broke away with a roar.
The Wolf King leapt from the battlefield, fleeing into the mountains, trails of blood marking its path.
Haotian staggered, panting, eyes narrowing. His hands shook on the spear, his breath ragged—but his pursuit did not hesitate.
The hunt was on.