Zhuo Riyan suddenly felt a sharp, chilling killing intent lance across his back. His instincts flared. That pressure—fast, violent, and wild—belonged to the Four-Winged Roc. The beast was already drawing in vast torrents of beast qi, condensing it into a seething sphere of destructive force between its beak.
A prickle ran down Zhuo Riyan's spine. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder.
What he saw made his pupils shrink.
The Roc's four wings were spread wide, its feathers bristling with crackling qi. Beast qi gathered between its jaws, thickening into a violent beam.
He threw himself sideways and kicked off a tree trunk just as—
BOOOOOOOM!
The Roc released its beam.
The condensed attack was surging forward, a streak of savage light tearing through the air straight toward the tree.
The blast tore through the forest.
The tree where Zhuo Riyan had been standing disintegrated instantly—
and every tree within ten meters was shredded into splinters.
The shockwave still hit him mid-air.
It sent him flying backward several meters, tumbling across the ground.
Blood spilled from his lips as he barely managed to twist and land on his feet.
The entire forest shook behind him.
Little Cat hissed, fur bristling.
"That fucking bird is going to kill you if you don't get the thunder moving! Hurry!"
Zhuo Riyan wiped the blood from his mouth and ran again, every breath painful—
but his eyes remained cold, focused, refusing to give up.
The sky trembled with the ferocious roar of the Four-Winged Roc as it watched Zhuo Riyan continue running. The beast's rage intensified when it realized the boy had survived its destructive attack with only minor injuries.
White beast qi erupted from the Roc's wings like blazing fire, scorching the air around it as it dove lower to strike again.
Behind the Roc, leaping from tree to tree with explosive force, was its master—Pan Lun.
Each time his foot touched a branch, white beast qi burst outward, cracking the wood beneath him. His killing intent was suffocating.
He was close—so close he could clearly see the boy sprinting ahead, his small black lifebound beast clinging to his shoulder.
Run as much as you want. Once I catch you, that will be your end.
Pan Lun's fury only grew hotter as he moved faster.
Below, Little Cat's voice rang in Zhuo Riyan's ear, sharp and panicked.
"Master, concentrate your purple thunder in your legs or we're fucking done!"
Zhuo Riyan kept trying even as he ran for his life. But every time he summoned the thunder, it spread through his entire body uncontrollably.
"I'm trying! But it scatters every damn time!"
Little Cat growled.
"Feel it from inside. This thunder is yours alone. Command it to flow only into your legs. And don't forget—my thunder isn't normal. It's a cosmic source. You can't even imagine its power, and you're wasting it!"
Zhuo Riyan gritted his teeth and forced himself to try again.
First, he pushed his beast qi into his legs.
Crimson-black qi wrapped halfway down his feet.
Then he slowly pulled at the purple thunder.
For a heartbeat, the lightning formed at his legs—only to disperse again.
But he saw it.
A spark.
A beginning.
He tried again.
And again.
And again.
Until finally—
Purple thunder pulsed at his legs, intertwining with the crimson-black qi.
A faint glow, half foot in size, crackled beneath him.
He had done it.
A grin formed on his face.
He opened his mouth to speak to Little Cat—
But he sensed nothing before it happened.
A massive white qi-formed palm slammed into his back with devastating force.
His vision went white.
His body shot forward like a broken arrow.
Blood sprayed through the air as he crashed through one tree—
then a second—
then a third.
Each impact carried enough power to kill a minor beast at the third level of the Beast Vein Stage.
But Zhuo Riyan was not minor.
His Cosmic Thunderfiend Body endured—but barely.
He hit the ground hard, coughing blood.
Little Cat was sent flying from his shoulder, tumbling across the forest floor with a terrified yowl.
The world around them trembled from the force of Pan Lun's strike.
Zhuo Riyan crashed into the dirt, breath ragged, vision trembling as he searched for the source of the attack. Through the haze he saw a man approaching—black robes marked with the Beast Mountain Sect crest swaying with every step.
So he's that Pa-an whatever's father… a Second Level Beast Spirit Stage cultivator, Zhuo Riyan thought bitterly.
Pan Lun walked forward with killing intent blazing off him, his beast qi surging like a violent storm. Above him, the Four-Winged Roc descended and circled in the air, its wings beating up whirlwinds that bent the surrounding trees.
Pan Lun's voice carried the venom of a grieving father. "You damn dog. How the hell did you survive? Ahh, forget it. Better this way. I'll cut you into a hundred damn pieces."
Before Zhuo Riyan could respond, a furious roar crackling with purple thunder shook the forest. Little cat, who had been thrown aside earlier, suddenly vanished from where he lay.
Pan Lun didn't even bother to shift his stance. "Haha, your cat has amazing speed but—"
Little cat appeared above Pan Lun, claws shimmering with thunder, aiming straight for his skull—
—but the Four-Winged Roc lunged in with perfect timing. Its beak snapped shut around little cat's body, stopping him mid-attack. The beast flapped once, lifting him effortlessly.
Pan Lun smirked coldly as he finished his sentence. "…it's not enough to hurt me."
Little cat struggled violently, sparks bursting around his body, but his cultivation was too weak. The Roc didn't even flinch.
Zhuo Riyan watched helplessly, fury burning in his blood, but his wounded body refused to move. Every time he tried to summon beast qi, agony stabbed through his ribs and spine.
Pan Lun approached, drawing a sword from his spiritual ring with a slow, cruel satisfaction.
So this is how I die, Zhuo Riyan thought, despair flooding him. Mother… your illness… I promised to find a way to save you. I can't die here. Move, damn it. Move!
Pan Lun raised the sword high above his head, tears of grief and hatred gleaming in his eyes. "Son, look! Your revenge will be completed! Bastard, I'll cut your hands off first!"
Little cat's voice cracked with terror. "Hey! Please don't kill my master! I just returned—don't make me die again! Nooo!"
Pan Lun didn't care. With a roar he swung the sword down toward Zhuo Riyan's left arm.
Zhuo Riyan saw the blade falling, gleaming white with killing intent—
—and then something deep inside him stirred.
A pulse of crimson-black energy erupted from his left hand. Not qi. Not thunder. Something older… something terrifying.
Little cat's eyes widened in frozen horror from the Roc's beak. "Wait… this… this energy… it's from that hand. How does this boy have that hand's power…?"
But before the sword could reach him, the world itself shuddered and stopped.
The blade hung in mid-air, unmoving.
Pan Lun's expression froze halfway through a twisted grin.
The Roc's wings halted mid-flap.
Even little cat, suspended in the beak, was frozen in time.
Everything stopped—everything except Zhuo Riyan.
He alone could breathe. He alone could move.
And his left hand was glowing with that impossible crimson-black aura, as if awakening from a long, ancient slumber.