The outer reaches of the Fifth Peak were anything but forgiving.
Snow swept across the frozen slopes, and the wind tore through the narrow passes with enough force to make even experienced cultivators struggle to maintain their footing.
Unit 04 was running for its life.
Behind them, a massive white silhouette pursued them through the snow.
The Snow Lion.
A late-stage Earth Realm beast.
Its enormous paws struck the ground, sending tremors through the mountainside. Its white fur was matted with ice, and its mane carried the dark stains of old blood. Every breath it released carried enough force to scatter the snow around it.
The beast was furious.
And it had every reason to be.
"Hey, you stupid idiot!" Death Sword roared as he sprinted forward. "Why did you try to eat that cub?"
Jagged, who was barely keeping pace with the others, looked offended.
"It was Fall Night's fault! He said it would taste good!"
Sifir turned his head just enough to glare at him.
"Really? I love my life far too much to encourage you to eat a Snow Lion cub, Jagged."
His voice was cold enough to rival the surrounding weather.
"Even I am not that stupid."
"That's right!" Purple Night shouted. "Now you've got all of us running for our lives because you wanted to find out how a cub tasted!"
She glanced over her shoulder.
The Snow Lion was closing the distance.
Her expression twisted.
"If we survive this, I am going to torture you myself!"
Jagged looked from one person to another.
"Why is everyone blaming me? Fall Night was the one who—"
"Scatter!" Death Sword roared.
The Snow Lion opened its mouth.
The attack arrived before the sound.
A violent shock wave tore through the mountain pass. Snow exploded from the ground, and the compressed air struck the group like an invisible hammer.
The cultivators scattered in every direction.
Talismans flashed.
Purple Night vanished in a burst of violet light.
Death Sword disappeared in a streak of crimson.
Sifir was preparing to activate his own talisman when Jagged suddenly moved.
The fool lunged across his path and snatched the talisman straight from Sifir's hand.
"What are you—"
Jagged crushed it.
Space twisted around him.
He vanished.
For a fraction of a second, Sifir simply stared at the empty space where his companion had been.
Then his expression turned cold.
The Snow Lion's roar shook the mountain.
It had seen the escape.
It had also seen who remained.
Sifir stood alone.
Death Sword, Purple Night, and Jagged had escaped. None of them had spared a thought for whether he would survive.
Sifir slowly lowered his hand.
"So that's how it is."
There was no anger in his voice.
That was what made it worse.
He had long since learned that relying on other people was a dangerous habit. The Night Clan had taught him one lesson, and the Midnight Clan had reinforced it.
**Never place your life in another person's hands.**
Patriarch Mudra's words echoed through his mind.
*Never place your life in another's hands.*
Sifir reached into his dimensional bag.
His fingers brushed against the talisman he had deliberately kept separate from the others.
A mid-grade Instant Warp talisman.
The Snow Lion lowered its head.
Its eyes fixed upon him.
The pressure intensified.
Snow compressed beneath Sifir's boots until the frozen surface cracked. His lungs struggled against the weight pressing down upon his chest.
This was no longer a simple chase.
The beast had decided that at least one trespasser would pay for the intrusion.
Sifir raised the talisman.
"Let's see whether you can catch me."
The Snow Lion lunged.
Sifir crushed the talisman.
Space folded violently.
Sound and light twisted into ribbons as the talisman's power seized his body and tore him from the mountain pass. For a fraction of a second, he felt the Snow Lion's immense will rake across his back.
Cold.
Vast.
Hungry.
Then the world disappeared.
Sifir reappeared miles away.
He struck the frozen ground hard enough to drive the breath from his lungs. Pain erupted through his body, and blood coated his teeth. His vision blurred as he rolled across the snow before finally coming to a stop.
For several seconds, he could do nothing but lie there and breathe.
Then he slowly pushed himself onto one elbow.
Far behind him, a roar split the Fifth Peak.
The Snow Lion had lost its prey.
Its enormous silhouette stood against the pale sky, staring toward the place where Sifir had disappeared.
The beast would remember.
And so would Sifir.
He wiped the blood from his mouth and looked toward the distant peaks.
"Jagged," he murmured.
His eyes narrowed.
"I hope you enjoy your head start."
He rose unsteadily to his feet and examined his surroundings. His body ached, his resources had been depleted, and his companions had abandoned him without hesitation.
Yet he was alive.
That was enough for now.
Sifir looked toward the frozen horizon.
In the end, he had survived for the same reason he always had.
He had prepared for betrayal before betrayal arrived.
And somewhere deep within him, the lesson became a little sharper.
'Trust could be earned. Survival could not be delegated.'