The atmosphere in the command tent at Crimson Ridge Pass was as heavy and oppressive as a tomb. The leaders of the five great righteous sects stood around the massive sand table, their faces grim. With them was a man who belonged to no sect, a tall, middle-aged wanderer with a simple, back-slung greatsword and an aura as vast and steady as the mountains themselves. This was the famous "Mountain Wanderer," a righteous expert who roamed the lands, appearing wherever great disasters struck.
"This is no longer a matter of simply holding the pass," the grizzled, battle-scarred Sect Master of the Iron Fist Peak grumbled, his voice like grinding stone. "A Beast King… its intelligence could rival our own. It will have strategies."
"Our scouts have not been able to get close enough to identify it," Feng Xuan's own master, the elegant Sword Sovereign of the Jade Spring Sword Sect, added, his brow furrowed. "Any who venture too deep into the wilderness are either killed or driven back by a wave of pure, overwhelming terror. It is a power that can crush the will of a lesser cultivator from leagues away."
The Mountain Wanderer, who had been silent until now, spoke, his voice a low, rumbling baritone. "I have felt its presence on the wind. The aura is one of absolute, ancient authority. It is a true monarch."
The Iron Fist Peak's Master slammed a gauntleted fist onto the sand table, his expression dire. "A creature with an aura that powerful can only be one thing," he growled. "A true Beast King. That means a beast of at least Rank 10, an Abyssal Beast, has gained full sapience and is commanding the horde."
A heavy, chilling silence fell over the tent. Rank 10. That was a power equivalent to their own, the First Stage of the Core Formation Realm.
"One Beast King against the six of us," the Radiant Sun Temple's Abbot murmured, his voice grim. "The odds should be in our favor."
"You forget, Abbot," the Mountain Wanderer said, his gaze distant. "We cultivators forge our cores through enlightenment and the careful accumulation of Qi. A demonic beast forges its core in the crucible of a million battles, in the devouring of its own kind. A Rank 10 beast is physically superior to us in every way. Its body is a living weapon, its instincts are flawless, and its power is primal. It is not our equal. It is our superior. That is why we are afraid."
Li Yu stood silently at the back of the tent with his master, Ning Yue, and the Green Mountain Sect Master. He listened, his mind a calm, deep pool, absorbing every detail. A Beast King. A single, intelligent will commanding an army of millions. The thought was terrifying, but to Li Yu, a different, chilling realization began to dawn. If all these beasts were under the control of a single mind, then they were not just a mindless swarm. They were puppets. And in a chaotic battle, who would notice if a few puppets simply… vanished?
Their strategic discussion was interrupted by a sudden, chaotic uproar from the encampment outside. Shouts of alarm and the sharp, clanging sound of drawn swords echoed through the pass.
"What is the meaning of this?" the Radiant Sun Temple's Abbot demanded, his benevolent face now a mask of stern authority.
A disciple, his face pale and his breathing ragged, burst into the tent. "Sect Masters! Elders! The demonic sects… they are here!"
A wave of shock and fury washed through the righteous sect leaders. They all poured out of the command tent to see a tense, volatile standoff at the entrance to the pass. Three distinct, ominous groups had arrived, their dark auras a stark, jarring contrast to the righteous light of the allied sects.
The first group was clad in blood-red armor, their faces twisted in arrogant, cruel sneers. Their banner depicted a six-armed, fanged demon. This was the infamous Asura Demon Clan.
The second group was a silent, unsettling contingent of cultivators in grey, tattered robes. Behind them stood a silent, disciplined army of skeletal puppets. The White Bone Sect.
But it was the third group that drew the most attention. They were dressed in simple, elegant black robes, their faces calm and composed. Their leader was a tall, scholarly-looking man, his aura as deep, still, and profound as a silent, midnight ocean—the unmistakable presence of a Core Formation expert. Their banner was a simple, silver willow tree on a black field. This was the Myriad Graves Sect.
"Demonic scum!" a hot-headed elder from the Crimson Cauldron Sect roared, stepping forward. "You are not welcome here! Leave now, or we will purge you from this world before the beasts even arrive!"
The leader of the Asura Demon Clan, a brutish man with a scar across his face, simply laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "We go where we please, old man. We are here to enjoy the show."
The leader of the White Bone Sect did not speak, simply gesturing to the wilderness, his intent clear.
It was the scholarly leader of the Myriad Graves Sect who finally spoke, his voice calm and resonant. "We are not here to fight you," he said, his gaze sweeping over the assembled righteous sect leaders. "We are here to fight the tide."
"You?" the Crimson Cauldron elder sneered. "You cultivate the dao of death and decay. Why would you fight to protect the living?"
"Because you misunderstand our dao," the man replied patiently. "The Myriad Graves Sect does not worship death. We respect the balance." He turned his profound, midnight-dark eyes to the western horizon. "This Beast Tide is not a part of that cycle. It is a cancer, an organized invasion that seeks to annihilate. To allow it to pass would be to allow the entire garden to be salted and burned. Our lands, our disciples, our very existence is as threatened as yours. We are here to defend our home."
His words, filled with a simple, unshakeable logic, stunned the righteous sects into a momentary silence.
"Words are cheap," the Iron Fist Peak's Master growled.
"Then let our actions speak for us," the Myriad Graves Sect leader replied calmly.
It was the Green Mountain Sect's Master who finally stepped forward. "The enemy we face threatens to destroy us all. Our internal grievances are a luxury we can no longer afford. Any who are willing to shed blood to defend this land are welcome to stand on our walls." He looked directly at the Myriad Graves Sect leader. "We accept your aid."
A tense, reluctant agreement was reached. The leaders of all the factions gathered in the command tent. The war council began in earnest.
They decided on a multi-front defense of the pass. The Central Front would be held by the main forces of the Green Mountain Sect and the Jade Spring Sword Sect. Each sect would assign its own beast tamers to support their disciples.
The Left Flank of narrow, rocky canyons was given to the White Bone Sect. Their tireless puppets were the perfect defenders for such a grinding, defensive battle.
The Right Flank, a deep, treacherous river gorge, was a natural chokepoint. The Myriad Graves Sect, whose Yin-attribute techniques thrived in such an environment, claimed it as their own. Li Yu's ears perked up at the mention of the river gorge. A battle in a deep river… it was a perfect hunting ground for him.
Finally, the discussion turned to the reserves.
"Your battalion will be our mobile reserve, Commander Li," the Sect Master said, his gaze falling upon his youngest, most prodigious disciple. "Each front will have its own beast taming units, but your Green Mountain battalion is the strongest. Your task will be to move between the three fronts, to reinforce any position that is on the verge of collapse. You will be our firefighters, our final, decisive line of defense against the enemy's most powerful beast charges."
It was a role of immense importance, one that gave Li Yu the freedom and the authority to move across the entire battlefield as he saw fit. A cold, calculating light gleamed in his eyes. This role was not just a responsibility; it was the perfect cover. He would have a legitimate reason to be anywhere and everywhere on the battlefield, to appear wherever the fighting was thickest. It was the ideal situation for a fisherman looking to cast his net in a chaotic storm.
His secret plan solidified. He would fight for the sect, yes. He would protect his home. But he would also use this unprecedented disaster as an unprecedented opportunity. In the chaos of a million-beast battle, who would notice a few weakened, high-quality specimens vanishing? He would weaken them, isolate them, and then, with a single, hidden pulse from his Koi's sanctuary, he would pull them into his own private menagerie. This war would not just be a test of his strength; it would be the single greatest harvest of his life.
With the battle plan set, the leaders departed to prepare their forces. Li Yu walked with Feng Xuan to the edge of the encampment, the two friends looking out at the dark line on the horizon that was slowly, inexorably, growing larger.
"An army of righteous cultivators and demonic fiends, standing side-by-side," Feng Xuan murmured, a look of disbelief on his handsome face. "I never thought I would see the day."
"A great flood does not distinguish between a farmer's field and a bandit's camp," Li Yu replied, his gaze distant. "It simply drowns them both."
He felt the weight of his new command, the lives of two hundred of his fellow disciples, resting on his shoulders.