‘Roars of demonic beasts... and fighting sounds. Not just one—several. A group...’
It seed trivial at first. After all, this was the Savagefang Mountain Range. Hearing the roars and clashes of beasts wasn’t exactly rare, right?
Normally, that would have been the case—and Mikael wouldn’t have cared—if not for sothing else. “The frequency is increasing…” he murmured to himself, gaze lost on the horizon in the direction of the distant sounds, as if trying to pierce through the trees and valleys to see what was truly happening.
“Since a couple of days ago, the demonic beasts have been becoming more and more active. The increase wasn’t easy to notice at first. But when you knew what to look for, the signs were impossible to miss... a beast tide was forming!”
His expression hardened. “I’m no expert, so I can’t say exactly how long it’ll take, but from what I’ve seen, I’d say a few days. Maybe more. But not too long—that’s for sure.”
A few seconds passed in silence before Mikael stood in a single, smooth motion.
He glanced one last ti toward the source of the distant chaos, then upward, noting the sun’s descent across the sky. A low hum rippled through Sangrelia as he sheathed her, the obsidian blade vibrating faintly in protest—as if displeased by the abrupt end of her ‘bath’.
Swissh.
Like a black-and-silver teor, Mikael shot through the foliage, cutting past branches and treetops until he hovered tens of kiloters in the air, suspended high above the Savagefang Mountain Range. His gaze swept across the wilderness below.
The view was breathtaking—a vast expanse of cliffs, valleys, and tangled wildlands that stretched far beyond the horizon. But Mikael paid no attention to its beauty. His eyes scanned the terrain with cold precision, tracking the movents of demonic beasts scattered across the forest.
Below, nurous confrontations were unfolding. A mother demonic beast stood protectively over her young, snarling at a gaunt predator whose eyes glead with hunger as it crept ever closer. High above the canopy, two winged beasts clashed mid-air—beaks snapping, talons raking—each trying to rip the other from the sky in a brutal contest for aerial dominance.
Elsewhere, two packs of four-legged beasts faced off in a tense standoff. Their snarls echoed through the trees until one side finally surged forward, overwhelming the other in a chaotic retreat. It wasn’t raw strength that decided the fight—it was desperation. As territory shrank and pressure mounted, even weaker packs were forced into reckless battles just to survive.
These weren’t isolated events. Scenes like these played out across the Savagefang Mountain Range. The entire land had beco a battleground of escalating tension, where instinct clashed with necessity and violence served as the only form of negotiation.
Viewed individually, the fights could be mistaken for the region’s natural rhythm—a brutal cycle of predator and prey. But seen together, the pattern was unmistakable. Beasts were growing restless. Their aggression was spiking. The struggle for land was no longer just territorial—it was survival-driven, frantic.
For anyone who understood the signs, it was more than scattered conflict.
It was the beginning of a demonic beast tide.
Mikael’s expression turned into a mix of grim seriousness and excitent. ‘I wasn’t wrong in my thinking. But now… how should I face this demonic beast tide? Should I try to temper myself by battling hordes of demonic beasts?’
‘Or maybe… infiltrate deeper into the Savagefang Mountain Range to loot rare resources left temporarily unguarded by the chaos and territory shifts caused by the tide? Or even sothing else entirely?’
He wasn’t sure. Too many possibilities. And making the wrong decision could an missing a trendous opportunity. As he hovered in the open sky, still mulling over his options, his gaze inadvertently landed on a flying demonic beast circling in the distance.
He instantly recalled the winged ambush he had suffered the first ti he entered the Savagefang Mountain Range. “Maybe I should reflect on all this sowhere I’m not an open target in the sky… Yeah, that seems like a good idea,” he muttered, nodding to himself.
Without hesitation, he shifted from his exposed mid-air position and moved toward a narrow alcove carved into the rocky wall of a nearby mountain peak. He landed quietly within, settling into a seated posture with one leg folded over the other.
From this vantage point, the surrounding stone concealed him from most airborne predators while still giving him a clear view of the wilderness below. As comfortable as sitting on jagged rock could be, the location offered both concealnt and perspective.
His gaze lingered on the forest, yet his mind was elsewhere, betrayed by the absent rhythm of his fingers tapping lightly against his thigh. ‘What are my true options for handling the incoming beast tide?’
‘If I want to play it safe, I could just leave the range in advance. The tide is still days from erupting, so I’d get out effortlessly...’
But the mont that thought crossed his mind, he discarded it. He hadn’t co to this mountain range just to flee at the first sign of real danger. The entire point of coming here was to temper himself. And right now, the Savagefang Mountain Range was turning into a crucible.
‘What about finding a place to hide and cultivate until the tide passes?’
Also useless. He had no idea how long the beast tide would last—or how destructive it would beco. If he wanted to avoid it entirely, then returning to the sect would be the smarter move. At least there, the environnt would be far more suitable for cultivation than a damp crevice in monster-infested terrain.
One by one, the ideas ford and crumbled. None felt satisfying. None felt right.
He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as he watched a particularly large beast barrel through a clearing below, scattering weaker creatures like insects. The forest trembled for a mont, then stilled. His fingers resud their quiet rhythm against his thigh.
‘It really just cos down to two real options, doesn’t it?’
‘Face the tide head-on. Battle through hordes of demonic beasts and use the chaos to temper myself...’
A straightforward path—brutal, but effective. He’d throw himself into the tide, push past his limits, and let the constant threat refine both instinct and swordsmanship. Risky, but cultivators thrived on that risk. It was common practice to seek tempering through dangerous fights against strong beasts. In his case, with Weightless Wind-Explosive Style, escape was always an option. He could fight hard and still pull out if needed.
‘Considering that, it's a viable path. I'd grow stronger quickly.’
He rubbed his chin, gaze never leaving the writhing treetops below.
‘On the other hand… I could avoid the tide entirely. Stay put, let the first wave pass under , and then slip into the deeper layers of the Savagefang Mountain Range.’
It wouldn’t be difficult. The pressure of the beast tide would hollow out the outer zones. As beasts pushed inward, they’d leave behind gaps—zones rich in herbs, ores, natural wonders, and all sorts of unclaid resources.
‘The amount of loot I could collect… even resources normally guarded by Core Formation beasts might beco accessible. This isn’t a minor opportunity.’
He leaned slightly forward, elbows on his knees, the stone cold against his skin.
‘In truth, both choices carry real danger—just in different forms.’
Fighting the tide ant clear, imdiate risk. He’d be forcing himself through waves of enemies, pushing his limits again and again. Growth would be fast. But so would the cost of a single mistake.
‘Going deeper is subtler. Less action, more stealth. I won’t be fighting constantly, but if I’m spotted… depending on how far I go in, I could end up facing Core Formation demonic beasts.’
He paused. A small twitch at the corner of his mouth.
‘Not that bad. Just a little pinch of danger. A grain-of-salt level chance of getting wrecked. Yeah... I could get fucked.’
The wind shifted against his back, stirring his robes. A distant roar echoed across the peaks, faint and distorted by the heights. He didn’t move.
Both options were good. Both tempting. One offered direct growth through trial by blood. The other, a unique chance to claim resources he’d never see again.
Mikael stayed like that for a while, silently comparing the two. But in the end, his eyes sharpened. The indecision faded, replaced by calm certainty.
“I’ll evade the demonic beast tide and head into the deeper layers of the Savagefang Mountain Range,” he murmured, voice low. A quiet promise, spoken to no one but Sangrelia.
The reasoning was simple.
Fighting the tide would certainly help him grow, but it wasn’t truly unique. It was just a faster version of what he’d already been doing these past weeks.
But using the tide’s chaos to dive deeper, to harvest rare resources while the range tore itself apart—that was a one-ti opportunity. When the tide ended, the opening would vanish.
Seen through that lens, the right choice was obvious.
With his decision now taken after a ‘long’ inward mulling, Mikael was itching to take action—so much so that he nearly dashed straight into the deeper layers of the Savagefang Mountain Range.
Sadly, he restrained himself. He knew he couldn’t act yet. The demonic beast tide was still in its early formation. While the region was already chaotic, it hadn’t reached the level where demonic beasts would overflow and abandon their territories, leaving behind trails of resources and open land.
If he moved prematurely, not only would he miss out on any real gains, but he could also end up endangering himself by getting caught in the tide before its patterns stabilized.
With that train of thought circling his mind, Mikael gave the forest below one last glance before closing his eyes. He exhaled slowly and began circulating his Qi.
The faint trickles of ambient Qi in the atmosphere responded to him. With each inhalation, small amounts were drawn into his body and guided to his dantian, where they were refined using a blend of the Elental Unity Path and Sun-Moon Unity Technique.
Under the power of these two Cultivation thods, the wild Qi within his dantian was broken down, gradually rging into his cultivation base. The process was slow, steady—but clearly weak in yield.
The increase in cultivation was nearly negligible. At the sa ti, the amount of Qi absorbed with each breath was also low. A normal first-layer Spiritual Foundation cultivator would absorb noticeably more in a proper cultivation session.
But that was to be expected. Mikael wasn’t cultivating in the traditional sense. Compared to the cultivation chamber in his sect abode, the Savagefang Mountain Range was vastly inferior—both in Qi density and quality. It would be a poor return for the sa amount of effort, and Mikael wasn’t one to waste energy.
He wasn’t focused on raising his cultivation base. What he was doing was comprehension—refining his understanding of his two Cultivation thods, trying to make them a step closer to the level of Small Success.
After all, comprehension was largely environnt-agnostic. It might be less efficient here without Kiara’s Threading the Veil to thin the gap between the world and the Dao, but not by much.
Even without the boost from the Musical Cultivation Technique, his progress was steady. Each breath he took refined not only Qi, but also his grasp of his thods, sharpening them with every inhale and exhale.
Ti passed in this state—like water slipping between one’s fingers. Unstoppable. Constant. Impossible to grasp.
Mikael lost track of it. His awareness remained anchored only by two things: the steady improvent in his comprehension… and the growing agitation below.
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— End of Chapter —
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