Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Aberrant Beast

At this moment, Yang Fan stood at the entrance of the tent, watching as Zhou Yiyi walked away, cursing under her breath. The more he watched, the more amused Yang Fan became. This girl hadn’t even figured herself out yet, but she was already worrying about others.

Yang Fan glanced at the four people around him—Mu Qingshan, Xie Sihua, Jiang Chao, Jiang Xiaoyi—classmates and companions who had journeyed together thus far.

…Had he really done something wrong? Had he truly gone too far?

No one had ever brought it up before, and Yang Fan had never been conscious of it. But now that Zhou Yiyi had mentioned it, he felt compelled to reflect. Had he really been too harsh on these friends?

He stood there, lost in thought.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar echoed from the distant mountains and forests.

The sound crashed into Yang Fan’s heart like a clap of thunder. He couldn’t tell how far away the source was, but for the roar to reach here with such deafening force and chilling power, for it to make one’s legs tremble, the creature behind it must be formidable indeed.

By the time Yang Fan regained his senses, he had already darted back into the tent, grabbed his machete, strapped on his medicine pouch, and charged headlong toward the forest.

When he reached the edge of the woods and looked back, Mu Qingshan, Xie Sihua, and the others were still rooted to the spot, eyes wide as saucers, mouths hanging open.

Yang Fan immediately felt a pang of regret for having wondered just moments before whether he’d been too hard on them. With reactions like these, he thought, nothing he did could truly be considered excessive.

“Hey! How long are you planning to stand there?” he shouted, planting his feet firmly.

How infuriating—were these the so-called geniuses? Xie Sihua was even supposed to be a genius of the same first grade as himself! He felt almost ashamed to be in their company.

The others snapped out of their stupor at Yang Fan’s roar. In truth, it was hard to blame them—the beastly roar had been so overwhelming, so piercing, that one couldn’t help but imagine what manner of creature could produce such a sound.

Just then, Yang Fan spotted Zhou Yiyi charging toward him at full speed, sword in hand.

Again, he marveled at the difference between those who had been on real missions and those who hadn't. Even if first- and second-grade missions were little more than rounding up bandits or hunting down rogue cultivators, it was a process of blood and clarity. Without such an ordeal, a cultivator could hardly be called a martial artist.

Once Xie Sihua and the others had caught up, Yang Fan led the way into the forest.

…

Thirty minutes later.

In a remote corner of the vast mountains, six figures cut a path through the woods. Yang Fan took point, hacking away the underbrush, forging a trail ahead, while Zhou Yiyi and the others followed close behind.

“Yiyi, what level would a beast need to be to let out a roar like that?” Yang Fan asked as he pressed forward.

“I can’t say for sure. There aren’t many variant beasts—ten years since the revival of spiritual energy, few wild animals have truly mutated, and even fewer have become genuinely powerful. But we’ve been away from the water source for nearly twenty miles and still haven’t encountered a single beast. With that kind of roar, I doubt it’s anything below a third-grade,” Zhou Yiyi replied.

Yang Fan pondered her words. In his heat of the moment, he’d rushed over, but now he was considering whether they were truly a match for such a beast.

This forest was truly strange. Aside from the wolf pack on the first day, they hadn’t seen another wild animal—not even a pheasant or hare. Not a single fish in the lakes or streams. The beastly roar they’d heard was likely the target of their mission.

Yang Fan began to compare. What were their chances against such a beast?

While he considered this, Zhou Yiyi spoke again. “Don’t overthink it, Yang Fan. Let’s see for ourselves before making any decisions. If it’s beyond us, we’ll simply withdraw. We’ll decide once we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

“You’re worried too?” Yang Fan asked.

“Yes. I think the military may have underestimated the grade of this beast,” Zhou Yiyi replied.

Behind them, Mu Qingshan and the others listened to the exchange, unease gnawing at their hearts. This was their first mission, and it had been one unexpected event after another: first the wolf pack, then the black-robed man, then Yang Fan being swallowed by the lake, and now a mission target possibly beyond their abilities.

For a moment, they all thought the same thing: Luck is truly not on our side.

Another mighty roar rang out from the distance.

…

Deep in the mountains, a solitary peak rose boldly. At its summit stood a giant white tiger, a single horn sprouting from its brow.

The tiger lifted its head to the sky, jaws agape, issuing roar after thunderous roar.

Following its gaze, high above, a massive bird with dark blue feathers darted among the clouds, its form flickering in and out of sight. It repeatedly dove through the clouds, sometimes answering the tiger’s roars with sharp, piercing cries.

At that moment, Yang Fan and his companions were a little over a mile from the cliff.

Hidden among the trees, they watched the two colossal beasts face off, their expressions grave, brows furrowed, sweat trickling down their foreheads.

“Are you sure?” Yang Fan asked, turning to Zhou Yiyi.

“There’s no mistake. That white tiger is at least at the pinnacle of third grade, and its single horn is a result of mutation—its true strength is no less than a non-mutated fourth-grade beast. As for the blue bird in the sky, it’s hard to gauge, but if it dares to challenge the tiger, it must be formidable—perhaps even more difficult to deal with because it can fly,” Zhou Yiyi explained, her face growing paler with each word.

When they had first arrived, Zhou Yiyi had already suspected that either the military’s intelligence was wrong and they’d underestimated the target, or they themselves had found the wrong beast. But the odds of two third-grade beasts being in the same area were slim. If it happened, they would confront each other—either one would die, or one would leave.

“What now? Do we stay or go?” Jiang Chao asked, his face ashen.

The white tiger’s roar had just shaken the very trees around them, making the ground tremble. Such proximity left Jiang Chao and the others deeply unsettled.

“We wait and see if the beasts fight. If they do, we might benefit. If not, we can leave then,” Yang Fan decided after a moment’s thought.

“The real worry is if they don’t fight and notice us instead!” Xie Sihua muttered.

Yang Fan shot him a look. “Can you not? Always assuming the worst—why are you a martial artist, then? The worst that can happen is dying in battle. If you only think of the worst, have you ever considered the day you might fall in combat?”

Xie Sihua fell silent at once. Here he goes again, he thought. Say one thing, and he’s ready to unload a dozen more.

…

The two beasts faced off—one majestic on the peak, the other circling in the sky. From time to time, they exchanged roars and shrill cries.

Just as Yang Fan and the others thought the two beasts might not fight after all, something unexpected happened.

The blue bird suddenly dove from the sky, its talons gleaming with a faint azure light.

The white tiger arched its back like a drawn bow, eyes fixed on its adversary. In a flash, it leapt upward, massive claws slashing through the air.

Beast and bird passed each other in a blur.

A flurry of blue feathers danced in the air as the giant bird soared skyward once more, leaving the white tiger to crash heavily to the ground.

Three bloody gashes appeared on the tiger’s back, blood streaming out and staining half its body scarlet.

The tiger landed and roared in fury—wounded in the very first exchange, while the bird had lost only a few feathers.

High above, the blue bird circled, shrieking sharply.

Once more, it dove.

This time, the white tiger did not leap; it would not make the same mistake again. Its previous wound had come from fighting in midair, where it was less agile than the bird.

A wise tiger does not stumble twice in the same place.

As the bird dove, the tiger sidestepped in a flash, then slammed its massive paw down where it had just stood.

A pitiful cry split the air.

The bird shot upward, but this time, it could no longer glide effortlessly—the left wing was drenched in blood.

The tiger’s well-timed strike had hit its mark, slicing several terrifying wounds into the bird’s wing despite the resistance of its tough feathers.

In the sky, the blue bird shook its head, fury blazing in its eyes. On the ground, the white tiger glared upward, fire in its own gaze.

…

“Look! Carefully—both beasts’ wounds are healing,” Yang Fan exclaimed in surprise.

He had been focusing his energy into his eyes, watching every detail. Both beasts had been wounded, yet now, the blue bird’s cuts had already stopped bleeding. That alone would not have surprised him—any third-grade beast, or even a second-grade martial artist like himself, could staunch bleeding with control over their energy.

What truly shocked him was that the wounds were visibly healing before their eyes.

The same was true of the tiger’s wounds—no longer bleeding, and closing rapidly.

“There’s nothing strange about that,” Jiang Xiaoyi explained. “Beasts are different from humans. Humans cultivate one stage at a time—first and second grade focus on energy and blood, third grade opens the Qi Sea and gathers energy, fourth grade tempers the internal organs, and so on, each step distinct. Beasts, however, improve in all ways at once; each breakthrough transforms their whole body, making them extremely well-balanced. Third-grade beasts already have some regenerative abilities—nothing surprising.”

Mu Qingshan and the others nodded in agreement.

Yang Fan glanced at them, bewildered by their matter-of-fact tone. He could accept it from Zhou Yiyi, but from these guys? For some reason, he just couldn’t take it as easily.