Here at the bottom of this cursed valley, sunlight couldn’t pierce through the thick, swirling mist that blanketed the land like a suffocating shroud.
As a result, it was always dark here—so dark it was almost impossible to tell night from day. There was no dawn. There was no dusk.
Yet it wasn’t completely pitch black either.
The rocky cliffs were laced with faintly glowing red crystals, their dim light pulsing gently like a heartbeat. On the ground, clusters of bioluminescent mushrooms cast a pale orange and red hue.
For an ordinary person, this light would’ve been far too little—nothing more than scattered sparks in a sea of darkness.
But for cultivators like Yue Ling and Langtian, whose senses were sharpened by spiritual energy, it was more than enough. Especially for Yue Ling, who had spent years in this valley.
As they walked, neither of them said a word.
Langtian’s steps were quiet, careful. His gaze swept over every twisted branch and jagged rock. His hand hovered near his waist at times, instinctively ready to draw a weapon—even though he no longer carried one.
It was too quiet down here.
Only the sound of the wind echoed faintly through the jagged stone, howling like a weeping banshee, carrying a bitter, ashen scent.
The trees, sparse and far between, were long dead. Their blackened trunks stood twisted and hollow, their gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal fingers clawing at unseen prey.
And the deeper they went, the worse it became.
The mist thickened, clinging to their clothes, their skin, even their lungs. Breathing grew harder. The shadows deepened. Even the mushrooms’ glow began to flicker and fade.
Then, without warning, Yue Ling came to a stop.
Langtian froze behind her.
Instead, she closed her eyes and inhaled slowly through her nose...
Then exhaled with a soft hiss.
Her eyes snapped open. A sly smile tugged at her lips.
"There’s a Rank 4 demonic beast ahead. About two hundred more steps. A wolf," Yue Ling murmured, her voice low.
Langtian’s eyes widened.
"What? H-How did you know that?"
"Experience," she said with a playful wink. "I’ve lived here for ten years, remember?"
"Right..." Langtian rubbed the back of his neck. "But wait... did you say Rank 4?"
"Yup," she replied casually, as if talking about spotting a rabbit in the brush.
"What? Can you even kill it?"
After all... a Rank 4 demonic beast wasn’t something to be taken lightly. That level of power was equal to a mid-stage Core Formation cultivator.
Even if Langtian still had his core, fighting one head-on would’ve been reckless.
But now—coreless, powerless—and Yue Ling was supposedly the same... how could they possibly stand a chance?
He hesitated, then reached out and gently tugged her sleeve.
"Wait—Senior Sister..."
"Don’t worry," Yue Ling whispered, glancing over her shoulder with a grin. "A Rank 4 beast like that wouldn’t even be able to lay a paw on me."
"S-Seriously?" Langtian stared at her.
There was no arrogance in her voice. Just quiet, unshakable confidence.
Langtian opened his mouth to argue again, but the words never came out.
Because when he looked at her, he saw it—that fierce certainty in her eyes. Steady as stone, sharp as a blade, cold as ice. She wasn’t bluffing, and she wasn’t trying to impress him.
She truly believed what she said.
And after all... he had seen her fight before.
Back then, she had butchered five Rank 3 demonic wolves in just two moves.
’If she could do that, then maybe... maybe a Rank 4 wasn’t impossible after all.’
"...Okay," he whispered, exhaling slowly.
"Good. Stay close. Watch carefully."
And with that, she stepped forward. Langtian followed behind, placing his trust in her once more.
___________________________
Though the difference between Rank 3 and Rank 4 seems like a single step, in truth, it is a chasm—a gulf as vast as the distance between earth and sky.
Rank 4 beasts are larger, more grotesque, and exponentially more dangerous.
At this stage, their demonic qi grows so dense it can no longer be contained within their flesh. It spills out violently—crackling in sparks, erupting in flames, or arcing as black lightning. Cultivators call it Demonic Beast Flame or Demonic Beast Lightning. A terrifying phenomenon... and an unmistakable sign that a beast has crossed into monstrous power.
Yue Ling and Langtian stood still, staring into the mouth of a narrow canyon cave exactly two hundred steps away—just as she had said.
Langtian held his breath.
There, hunched before the dark cave’s entrance, its back arched and claws drenched in blood, was the Rank 4 Demonic Wolf.
The beast was massive, easily the size of a small house. Its pitch-black fur was caked with dried blood and dirt. Its limbs were unnaturally long, muscles bulging and twitching beneath taut skin. Jagged, bony spines jutted from its back like the broken blades of ancient weapons. Each step it took gouged deep trenches into the earth.
Flickers of demonic flame licked at the joints of its limbs and the tip of its tail—black and crimson fire smoldering with unnatural heat. Even its eyes were aflame, casting searing trails through the air whenever its head moved.
And in front of it...
The half-devoured corpse of a Rank 3 Demonic Boar lay sprawled across the stone. Its hide had been flayed open, entrails strewn across the ground like discarded rope. The wolf’s jaws tore into the carcass with wet, crunching bites. Blood splattered with every movement, and strips of muscle and sinew stretched from its fangs in long, glistening threads.
Bones cracked. Flesh squelched.
Each time the wolf lifted its head, gore dripped from its muzzle, pooling onto the stone in thick, steaming rivulets.
Langtian swallowed hard.
Even from this distance, he could smell the rot.
His stomach twisted violently.