There was a crack of sticks and a quiet crumpling of leaves. The gruesome scent was a magnet that drew them. Dozens of critters gathered. Little furred animals and big beasts, scaled, furred, with reflective eyes that glowed silver, were lured by the sound and blood. Hao sat in silence and continued to watch Mo Bangcai’s camp. He knew now that information was key to everything; if he had known what was in the Trial beforehand… Enough of that.

  It was strange that such a horrid event could bring such adorable creatures, not all of them as cute as they were majestic. Shouts, cries, and wallowing echoed amongst the trees. The scent of blood spread, blanketing the remnants of wood smoke. All those sensations came straight from the camp itself.

  Hao fought to sit still. He could have gone into the camp again in all their confusion and frustration; it would have been easy to pick off another. It would have been the right thing to stop them. Forever. Twice and a third time, small tree-dwelling creatures crawled up Hao’s back, thinking him anything other than a person. One took his shoulder for a warm place to rest.

  Most of the noise in the woods came from a single source. Mo Bangcai was awake and added to the conversation. Initially, he was confused and timid, but then anger seemed to flood over like a pond in a summer storm. If the wind was blowing just right, the scent of a sour fruit wine wafted off of him. Other than screaming, “Who else could it have been?!” He attacked the group of people they called pourers, just a group of people who happened to be weaker than those in his hunting group. That was enough to spell a cruel fate.

  Mo Bangcai dragged one of them out of the tent when he poked his head out. The already bruised man was forced to the ground and beaten so Bangcai could vent his anger. When he was done, the man lay there, unmoving.

  Hao could not tell for sure, but it seemed the man was dead. It made his stomach twist. To so easily kill, I could have stopped it. The thought made his face warm, the small animal on his shoulder got closer to his exposed skin, and his body temperature flared until he turned his head. The tiny thing jumped. Fumbling around, it jumped and scratched Hao’s face. Its claws caught the fur of the white cloak as it ran backward from him.

  “Don’t spill more blood than you need to. Fo—” The Nightwatch spoke with decided anger, he stopped himself from calling Bangcai a fool boy again, he had already done it twice, which lent itself to fueling the young man’s foul mood. “There is already enough blood in the camp. If we aren’t going to pursue and search the area, we should leave.”

  “How would we search for a ghost?” One of the hunting groups asked, one of the second group of five. Not part of Bangcai’s original Mission and Hunting Group. His voice cracked, and he leaned his hand on one of the tents.

  Every eye turned his direction like he was more egregious than the pourer beaten to death in front of them. He was quick to step forward from the tent and say, “Young Master, Senior.” With a bow, he smiled, as if the action washed over any words he had said, making them cleaner and more acceptable.

  Bangcai just barked at him, “Idiot, what kind of ghost and smack away a sword…”

  Hao found it hard to believe, but it seemed to work that way in the group. As long as they acted with respect, like sycophants, they could do as they pleased. Is this how things work on the First Elders Peak and Hall, too? He didn’t think hard about it; it was obvious.

  The Nightwatcher did a poor job explaining things with his adrenaline high, so after it was clear they would not search, he collected himself while wandering the camp’s perimeter. His eyes scanned the forest and trees. Then he sat and explained again.

  Hao thought his disguise was rather good if all their guesses besides Meng Hongyu were as ridiculous as they were. The old man insisted it wasn’t Hongyu, calling Hao weak again. Ghost was just one, Hao didn’t mind that, it felt half-true. Some were more offensive than just insulting his strength and appearance; “It could have been a small silver monkey looking for trinkets?”

  Hao expected Bangcai to slap the man who made the guess, but the Nightwatcher beat him to it. Finally, they landed on something similar to what Hao had hoped for.

  “If it wasn’t Meng Hongyu, then it was another disciple from the Blue Moons Mountain Sect, right?” They shared a look between themselves. “Well, it wasn’t just Hongyu that was… Offended.” The man who spoke side-eyed Bangcai with his head and eyes lowered. He was careful about his words.

  Another spoke, he was grizzled. Appearing ten years younger than the Nightwatcher, “But I don’t see who else can hold a candle to Senior and get away. It doesn’t make sense. Hongyu is already an abnormality coming into the Secret Realm; the Ninth Layers don’t get much benefit, not unless they came purely for the fun of it. But… Would he come and assassinate us?”

  The Nightwatcher nodded his head like his own thoughts were voiced. His nod was cut short by the growl from the bloody-fisted Bangcai, “Sun-Touched! That fiend…”

  Encouraged by the growl of his Young Master, the one who suggested another disciple from Blue Moons continued. “He could have been holding back, didn’t want a whole fight or something, right? He wanted to get rid of all of us quietly, not fight us directly. If we all die and there are no witnesses, he doesn’t get any blame or trouble.”

  There were a variety of faces made at the discussion, scratched chins, and men re-wrapping their long hair. Others felt their necks and shivered.

  The reaction that mattered most was Bangcai, who stopped his foot down on the leg of the dead pourer and flexed his fingers repeatedly. “Senior described him as remarkably ugly. It makes sense to me, who else other than Sun-Touched has such a horrid face?”

  Encouraged further, the ass-kisser continued, he would have sounded the same if he was kneeling behind Bangcai waiting for him to sit. “Young Master makes sense. A grudge is plenty enough to make many act out, right?”

  To most of them, the idea suddenly seemed plausible.

  Hao couldn’t hold back a smile as they talked themselves into the wrong answer he wanted them to. It was a good night. He killed some of them and took their holding bags, which were already two birds with one stone. Now they were acting as he hoped. It was like that stone sailed through the sky and caught a third fat juicy bird.

  “Hmmm! He wants to cover up his misdeeds, that freak, good, good! We can’t let this go, I want to make his death a spectacle.” Mo Bangcai’s voice calmed to something cold for the first time. He could have made the same face if he were eating a warm meal.

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  The Nightwatcher sat, then stood. Hao wanted to see what face he was making, but he was turned away. “We have to be careful, since our last spectacle, people have flocked to him, he turned them away, but now they organized their own little camps. If we antagonize wrongly—be too open about all this, we could have more than just the group he moves around with down our throats.”

  “Two rivers stay to themselves, it won’t be much of a problem. But our Sect has already been ridiculed. We won’t have more help than we already have here.”

  Bangcai spun his head around to the Nightwatcher, his face painted with disgust. “Traitors, I’ll have Master look after them once he is the Sect Master… Meanwhile, Sun-rot walks around freely picking up treasures…”

  “Young Master…” The Nightwatch walked close to Bangcai; he had to step wide to get over the body on the ground. “Come, let’s pack and clean up while we talk.”

  *

  The more they spoke of it, the more it became true. Before they were done shuffling around and muttering, it had always been the one and only truth, obvious in fact. The Sun was peeking into the sky before they had all their bags in order, all the ones that weren’t missing.

  Hao was becoming impatient, and so were the many animals lurking. Some ran off, and those bold enough to stick around while the voices were whiny ran off as the voices became steeled. Perhaps it wasn’t the voices, no, it was something else, something large stalked towards the camp. He knew it was the fourth bird his stone would hit tonight. Monstrous, a beast, a big one, waiting for prey to wander off alone.

  Hao could see the white-furred mouth yawning. Its mouth was clean, he hadn’t eaten tonight, perhaps it was savoring the taste in the air. A rich, coppery scent that remained, only growing stronger. What could serve as better bait? Every enormous beast must have eaten at least one two-legged creature, humans, like Hao; they would have a taste for it and seek it out. Hao was more concerned with how long it had been there before he spotted it.

  The Nightwatcher directed the group as the last few tents were being taken apart. “You four split into pairs. We need to scout and find them; a planned surprise attack would benefit us most. We can be smart about this. Look out for anyone with a white cloak nearby… Avoid anyone else. Keep it low. Quiet. If we don’t meet you here, go to…” He went on for a while longer. Hao didn’t know the location by name or description.

  Four men grouped and split, going in opposite directions. One pair, deep in the forest, where the orange leaves grew green, and dry air became neutral. The others bolted to the center zone, where unpredictable weather was expected. They didn’t come from Hao’s direction, but he would keep his eyes and ears sharp; once they vanished from his sight, he wouldn’t know where they would come from.

  Hao, hearing the start of their plan, took off his bloody white cloak—Information, well, really was helpful. Hao kept his attention split between the white-furred beast that stalked and the camp that had almost vanished, except for the clearing itself. Four were gone, two dead. Only three of them remained in the camp, except for the pourers.

  The Nightwatcher didn’t forget about them. His voice, like a whip, cracked into the tent with pourers in it. His foot lifted the flap aside. “You clean up these bodies, stack them somewhere they are in the way. There is enough blood here already, I thought I said so already.”

  Hao felt a morbid sense of curiosity. If one of these pourers went outside the camp… Then the beast wandered in. He wanted to see this famed hunting group’s tactics when fighting a beast. Hao could smell the cold air rolling off the feline’s back. The hair on the back of his neck stood. He was tempted to walk over and hunt it now, despite the consequences. Don’t take the bodies too far, their blood is still good for the Drinking-Stone.

  Of course, the obvious happened. The moment one pourer dragged his dead comrade, maybe friend, to the edge of the camp, the beast moved around the proximity. So quiet. He moves more silently than I. I hope your showing up doesn’t mess up my plans. Hao remarked in his head.

  That silence was broken by the blood-curdling scream and the return of the pourer running while looking back, his hand soaked in blood. He appeared uninjured until he hit the ground. The arm that was behind his back when he was turned was gone. Red poured like a waterfall. The Demonic beast was close, following behind.

  Silver-gray eyes and a wide, large mouth that was painted freshly with red lips, white fur, black whiskers, and front fangs like short swords. The hand he took was already swallowed. To Hao, it looked like a painting of a Tiger, white as snow, mixed with a dog, a street dog, not a wolf. Its eyes dash around. For just a moment, it slinked back and then walked boldly into the camp, a mist around its long, thin, round-ended tail. It doesn’t have stripes; the last one had stripes. Hao watched it to assess its facilities. Its strength was obvious; it could fit five people on its back easily, but it had a feral look in its eyes. It’s just a beast.

  “Was that!”

  Hao missed who said that, but didn’t miss the old Nightwatcher’s response. “Fool boy, did their wounds look like that?” He pointed at the unconscious bleeding pourer, a person, on the ground like it was a broken teacup. “Would I be alive if that surprised me in the night?” His shouts were quiet while remaining urgent.

  Hao leaned forward, keen to watch and learn what he could.

  “We aren’t prepared for this. Leave the last two tents and grab the bags. Let’s go. Drop the rest of the tents if they weigh you down. Let him have that person retreat while it’s eating, there is enough food for it here.” He walked backward, his eyes just below the Feline-like creature’s eyes. Bangcai, the third member of their team, acted as the old man did.

  The pourers reacted more predictably. They fumbled and sprinted toward the center zone with their hands over their mouths. This was their chance to escape their captors, but a different reason drove their heavy steps.

  Running? Hao was disappointed, but there was still something to learn. He isn’t making eye contact, but he is still watching it, and leaving a person behind as bait. As they went into the tree and their steps faded, the feline beast relaxed. Hao’s disappointment turned to shock. He thought if the Nightwatcher wanted to, he could fight the beast alone and kill it. Has he never fought one alone, or is it something else?

  To be fair, if any beast of the sixth rank ambushed any reclamation Cultivator, they would nearly always die. But if the fight was on fairer grounds. A beast was a beast in the mind.

  The beast lumbered forward to the unconscious man once it thought it was clear. It opened its mouth and went for the bloodiest body first. The sound of carrots crunching echoed in the forest, bouncing off trees as it ate the body of the man who had his neck crushed, still half hanging outside the tent.

  If they could see where they were from, Mo Bangcai and the Nightwatcher saw as it pulled their group member, dragged out of the tent like a limping steak, and devoured like a small cake. It managed to make a mess even though the man was nearly depleted of blood.

  Hao nearly felt pity for them. They could have avoided both calamities if they had never known Mo Bangcai. Once the beast was clear, he could follow their group again until their last battle. Then he would have them both. Not everything went perfectly; it seemed the change in the day, with the morning sun rising, was a change in his luck.

  The beast could have followed them, gone after the pourers that ran or finished the rest of its meal. Instead, it stepped right over the unconscious, still-breathing pourer, his arm torn off. Continued, walked up, and stood still at the campsite’s edge. It stared right into Hao’s eyes.

  Hao thought it was a coincidence at first. Pure chance it spotted him, no wind passed by, and he was silent as far as he was aware. But he was making eye contact with it. It breathed heavily as it looked at him. Roaring, the grotesque smell of its recent meal. The smell was strangely familiar. He looked down at himself as he stood up. Red was coating his arms and parts of his neck down to his shoes. The blood smelled eerily like the beast’s breath. The blood of his first meal coated Hao.

  “Not an unwelcome distraction…” Hao muttered as it lumbered towards him.