Rustling caught the attention of piercing yellow eyes as they scanned the surrounding forests. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air as the owner of that gaze spotted a trail of trampled underbrush and bent bamboo leading further into the forest. A savage grin seemed to appear from the very air itself as if it was distorting under those eyes before a blur moved in that direction.

Little White savored the moment as his lithe movements carried him through the forest, falling leaves seeming to slow in the air around him at his speed. Memories of his training with the ancient one, the man who smelled of rain and metal, ran through his mind. Through that mentoring he had learned to be quick, to flow the energy of the world's eternal river through muscle and bone.

Night hung heavy over the forest but it was no obstruction to the beast king’s eyes as small orbs of water funneled gentle light onto his surroundings, illumination only he could see. It had taken months of harsh lashes from the ancient one’s swords, weapons formed from the world that was only visible in a certain light. At first, he had not understood, had become angry but not now, now Little White understood.

The veil of night no longer obstructed him, where once it narrowed vision now all was revealed as if under an eerie twilight. Hunger beat in his chest at the sight of the limping Spear Stag. Fresh lifeblood flowed out from the beast as he eyed the gash on the creature's right flank.

A simple attack, delivered from under the guise of his flowing cloak. Memories of the moment caused a hint of annoyance to play in the beast king’s mind, this simple prey hadn’t reacted even as he had borne down with the intent of a hunter. Without his mercy, his query would have never even gotten the chance to run.

Inwardly Little White had hoped that this hunt would be more exciting, perhaps the wounded Spear Stag would find its kin. During his hunts near the mountain, the water wolf had encountered strong beasts just like this that had put up a greater challenge. Their sharp meter-long antlers would gather the wind that held up the sky and form long spears like the humans used.

With blinding speed, a larger one had almost taken his life, and only through a bloody struggle had he gained victory. That had been a glorious day, a moment where his howl of triumph had rang throughout the valley, proclaiming his birthright. However, the memory also brought great sorrow along with pride.

At the height of his glory, his dearest one had been absent, unable to share in the joy of his successful hunt. The last year had been full of such feelings, longings to stay by his bond mate’s side conflicting with his natural urge to sally forth and claim his rightful birthright as king of the valley’s beasts. Thankfully the past two weeks had been a return to the old days, times spent closely together with their small group.

Every day they would run, explore and feast on the kills claimed with their own means. Growling slightly Little White found his patience had run out and he willed the river to coalesce to his will. Quickly his awareness stretched out as around the small clearing the Spear Stag had fallen in twelve clear orbs of water hung silently just below the forest's canopy. All around the lush underbrush spread as far as he could see even with the enhanced viewpoints of the controlled spheres.

Small streams flowed from those workings forming 10 transparent blurs identical to Little White’s own figure. Under the cover of night, they were invisible to all but the most sensitive of eyes. Power surged in his limbs as cascading water flowed in two opposite directions on all of the claws of him and the water selves.

The gentle water increased in speed creating a cutting edge between the two opposing streams, a simple version of the ancient one’s swords formed from the world. With a gentle nudge of his will the water clone directly opposite of the prey walked forward slowly dissipating its cloak with a menacing expression. Instantly the Spear Stag recoiled backward, tensing its muscles and turning to run in a single motion.

At the same time, Little White’s remaining water clones burst forth flowing into giant paws with their claws outstretched. Even as dust was kicked into the air from the beast's sudden movements the razor-sharp attacks glided through the air with speed and savagery. Just as they found their mark a roar sounded from outside the clearing as four blurring shadows arrived, ripping through the side of the world claws Little White had generated.

Focusing his eyes he saw the older Spear Stags as they bounded through his attack. The sight brought an upward curve to his lips as a roaring river of mental energy lanced out from him. As the newcomers passed through the working of the world’s water that river of will caught the broken-apart Qi.

With a snarl Little White ran the river through the failing world claws twisting the sharp edges of the failed attacks in all directions, forming bursting spheres of thin lacerating water blades. Red blood flew through the air as the improvised counter scored countless wounds on the beasts. A single moment of silence was accompanied only by the whimpering sounds of two of his new opponents as his eyes rested upon the outcome.

The smallest of the beasts, his original prey, lay in a mess of pieces between the newcomers. It was the weakest of the bunch and even with the reduced power of the attack, its hide was too weak to endure. Two more of the remaining animals stood with a limp as cuts to their front and back legs sapped strength while constant red lifeblood flowed from wounds along their torsos.

A slightly larger specimen with antlers as large as the stag that had almost killed him nursed only a few shallow cuts. Elsewhere white marks could be seen on the sturdier spirit beast indicating its age and increased power. However, everyone paled in comparison to the leader who landed with confidence and power.

At that moment Little White could see the anger and pride in this Spear Stag. It's antlers measured almost half over again from the other uninjured beast. Even in its crouching stance from the landing, it was clear that this one stood almost half a meter taller than the others and was bulkier as well.

The final thing that caught the eye was the almost complete absence of markings from the previous attacks. Only a handful of faint white lines could be seen and not a single serious injury was incurred. Knowing that each of them had taken at least three of the world claw spheres directly put into perspective the level of defense that would require.

Although the offensive power had been lowered, the original attack could level half a dozen trees before being exhausted. Even if the might was reduced to a tenth, and further split by being pulled into so many thin attacks, such deadliness wasn’t anything to scoff at. All of this occurred to Little White in an instant and his eyes immediately shrunk to pinpoints.

Willing the two remaining water spheres he used one to send three sharp claws forward, an attack for each of the none leader stags. The other sphere broke into five rotating spiral waterfalls to form a cone around him with a small circular area inside. Before the claws reached their prey or the defensive waterfalls fell halfway a whistling sound was heard from three directions.

Little White threw himself backward and to the left, sending out two water selves with failing water cloaks forward and straight backward as decoys. At the last moment, he pulled one of the waterfalls from the defensive cone around him in a slanting plane meant to deflect attacks. A lance of wind energy pierced through the water, slightly diverting and instantly piercing him above the right shoulder in a shallow wound. Another arrived from right above and deflected enough that it only grazed directly above his left hind leg.

Two more deadly spears arced inward from above and the side piercing the forehead of each water self. As the water fell to the ground the water claws found true. Shimmering in the air they were revealed by a strong gust that tried to ward off the transparent blades.

This was too late as the sharp claws were revealed only a meter or so away from the stags. Shimmering from the displacement of the wind the water cloak on the attacks fell completely as three water claws savagely went for the beast's throats. As Little White’s eyes met the last remaining Spear Stag three heads fell to the ground.

Instantly a wrath-filled roar threatened to pin the water wolf to the ground as an oppressive aura washed over him. Air whistled as the ground cracked below him. Spear after spear of piercing wind lanced forward. A shifting form blurred to the left as the ground cracked beneath its feat, from that shadow three transparent shimmers split away as a dozen trees and countless bamboo were sheared clean through.

Five explosions rang out as three dense clouds of Wind Qi explode into crescent blades. Blurring figures dashed forward toward the mighty stag, seeming to rend the very air as shimmering transparent blurs issued forth from claws. Little White felt the threat as his blood boiled, craving it as a spear piercing his back left leg.

Inwardly a savage sense awoke, one that knew he was born for this. He felt a thrill as three claws ground shallow bloody troughs through the front leg of his opponent. Sensed the air as half a dozen spears of heavenly wind sought his throat.

Each step carried his form dozens of meters, scarring the very ground to mark the passage of this battle. Constantly water orbs formed overhead, forming slanting streams that changed the angle of attacks ever so slightly. For each lance, his water selves countered with a dozen deadly water claws.

Mental energy coursed through Little White’s eyes as his graceful form flowed between the attacks, carefully weaving through the tight tunnel of safety provided by the streams of water above. A hundred attacks were exchanged in just a few seconds leveling the forest for over 100 meters in each direction. Finally, a barrage of lances pierced directly into two dozen water selves foreheads. Like extra limbs, they extended from the Spear Stag’s antlers like roots connecting a tree.

The Mighty form of the Beast king Howled in agony as a spear lanced through his head, blood slowly seeping from his forehead as a triumphant roar rang from the Stag’s throat. A mighty sound that shook the forest itself but for a brief instant before it was cut off. Gurgled splutters replaced that sound as the giant jaw of Little White slowly came into view, his water cloak fading as the more realistic water self faded to clear liquid. Slowly other smaller nearby spheres of water that reflected all kinds of different colors of light also dropped to the ground, evidence of the extra work used to make the feint more convincing.

Panting with adrenaline and exhaustion the king of the wolves shook his jaws, snapping the neck of his prey. With a final huff, he threw the prey to the ground and issued a command to the heavens, a cry that shook even the mountains that surrounded the valley, or perhaps it would have save for a nearly transparent shimmering bubble of energy surrounding the battlefield. Nearby on a high ridge overlooking the forest below a man sat with his legs dangling over a ledge.

He wore a wide-brimmed bamboo hat that's rim covered his face and a plain azure martial arts robe. From under the brim of his hat, one could just make out the barest hint of a wolfish smile curling on his lips.

The port of the Wang clan’s ancestral village filled Fan Zhong’s view as he leaned over the railing of the merchant ship they had brooked passage upon. It was a medium-sized merchant vessel with a deck barely large enough for the group to do basic forms. Although that hadn’t stopped the old swordsman from insisting that the confines were simply a new form of training, one that emphasized control and restraint.

For a little under a month, the group had ridden aboard the vessel, slowly plodding down and across the Flowing Grass River. During that time they had seen little more than a minor mirage wave to pass the time. That was good as it spoke to the preparations and forethought of the captain who had taken measures to make the trip as safe as possible.

However, compared to Fan Zhong’s previous trips on the water it seemed… lacking. As such the sight of their final destination was a great source of relief to him and looking at the others standing at the railing, with anticipation written on their faces, he wasn’t the only one. Casting his gaze across the port he had to admit it was impressive.

The docks were filled with anchored ships both large and small while constant foot traffic filled the road that stood astride the water. An inner wall stood behind a row of buildings with guards and observers standing sentinel at the top. Each of these storefronts had merchants outside haggling prices as workers ferried carts in and out to move merchandise.

Standing tall at set intervals along the road were three gates that roads leading into the village. Those gates stood almost 25 meters high reaching just 5 meters shy of the wall’s peak. Looking toward them caused Fan Zhong to instantly feel the weight of several senses fall upon him. Like a light film of wind brushing against him the mental energy of the observers focused on him but for a moment as he looked at the gates.

Just like the wind after that brief assessment, it was gone. Feeling the intrusion caused him to tsk in annoyance at such an open examination however, it only took a bit of thinking and a breath to calm down. He realized that his expectations had been set by the best observers in the Flowing Grass Valley, his own clan.

Compared to them, those guarding the Wang Clan’s ancestral Village were far less skilled. In actuality, their touch was probably considered light and well done to most martial artists. Only those with acute sensitivity to such things and mental techniques that accented those feelings would be able to detect it.

Additionally, those who were doing something so routine as watching for interest at the gate were probably in the First-grade realm. For the ones actually approaching on foot he had no doubt there were Master realm observers keeping an eye, ones who even he wouldn’t notice at all. Sighing Fan Zhong shook his head and attempted to find something else interesting to distract him less the remembrance of his lost clansmen threatened to ruin his mood.

Immediately he noticed there was a walled-off section of the port where the fortifications stretched out into the water. This formed a box-like section at the far west side that was cut off from the rest of the port. Tall imposing ships were moored there and many more Wang clan martial artists stood atop the walls keeping watch.

Within a moment of looking that way, a great pressure seemed to bear down on him. There was an intent in that wave of mental energy, a warning not to pry into business that wasn’t his own. Cutting a quick bow in that direction he hastily shifted his gaze elsewhere.

It was not like he hadn’t seen such things before, the setup was earlier similar to the Fan clan’s own previous military fortifications. Knowing that there was still a tentative war going on, even if a temporary ceasefire was in effect, it was understandable that the Wang clan was touchy about who looked into their martial arrangements. Looking around a bit more there didn’t seem to be anything else incredibly interesting from this distance, nothing that he cared to look at anyway.

One more quick glance told him that it would be at least an hour before the ship was able to get through the port officials and they would be allowed to disembark, hopefully. Sighing one final time Fan Zhong made his way to the center of the deck to find Fan Yong, if anything could help pass the time it was the company of his best and oldest friend.

Xing Zheng spread out his divine sense lightly as he and his two charges stood in line near one of the port gates to enter the village. It had taken nearly two hours for the authorities to inspect and give permission for their ship to dock and allow the group to go on their way. Surprisingly the merchant captain had been accommodating, offering to let one of their transport fees be free.

Initially, the price to ride the merchant ship had been 30 spirit stones per person, a rather large sum for most mortals. Hearing that the merchant was willing to offer such compensation, giving away a third of his profit, gave Xing Zheng a good impression of the man. He had not only paid the whole price but given him an additional 10 spirit stones to round out the voyage's costs.

Many often looked down on those who made an honest living through hard work, something that seemed incredibly distasteful to him. As such whenever a chance was presented to pay goodwill forward he saw no reason not to balance the scales at least a small amount. All of that had led to their current situation, waiting at the gate for another hour. With his senses, it had been trivial to see that the guards were being incredibly thorough in their inspections almost to the point of absurdity.

Adding to that the irritated and antagonistic air they were giving off and it was easy to see how a few brawls had broken out that exaggerated the issue further. Taking a breath, Xing Zheng allowed his mind to go back to the Qi cycling through his body. Currently, a steady loop was keeping his energy regulated at a pace that took only a small amount of his divine sense to manage.

Even that however, was incredibly fast for someone of his level. When he had been only a Supreme Grandmaster the loop in his dantian had moved at only a hundredth of the pace even when he pushed it as much as his body could handle. Right now, that almost felt like a detriment.

Each cycle of the Qi going through his energy channels before returning to the loop sent pinpricks of intense pain through his being. With any lesser cultivation and bodily control it would’ve had him on his knees crying out ever since he returned to the Flow Grass Valley. This was the price he had paid for pushing himself too hard, micro remnants of Blood Qi and the fractures in his Qi Condensation Meridians rearing their ugly heads.

As he was currently his strength could only really be exerted to what it had been as a peak Supreme Grandmaster without furthering his injuries. Doing a quick mental calculation he reasoned that he could fight for about an hour at peak strength before his injuries caused permanent damage to his foundations. Cursing inwardly he concentrated more of his disperse divine sense to his mind to help smother the pain and irritation.

“NAMES PLEASE!” A gruff voice shouting broke Xing Zheng from his contemplation.

He realized that they had arrived in front of the gate and the guards were pointedly staring at him with rather irate expressions. For just a moment his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, this was something that shouldn’t be possible with his awareness of the world around him. Quickly he beat away those thoughts as things to think about at another time, now it was time to play his role.

“Hmph, in my day juniors were more polite. That's Senior Zhang Zheng ‘The World Sword Sage’ here with my disciples Fan Zhong and Fan Yong.” Xing Zheng injected some contempt into his voice along with the usual haughtiness and sage-like calm.

“Pftt, as if… wait, Fan Zhong? As in Zhong the coward? The brat who ran away from the war and hid behind his father and brother?” The guards almost spat the words as if they were garbage that had been shoved into his mouth.

Hearing those words Xing Zheng narrowed his eyes and unleashed the barest fraction of his aura, pressing it down on the guards.

“Say. That. Again!” His voice dripped with venom as he lifted the brim of his wide-brimmed bamboo hat to meet the guards' eyes.

His gaze carried the intent of an immortal who had strode through rivers of blood for a thousand years, who had met foe after foe and left each one dead in his path.