The air in the village, once heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the sour scent of fear, was now thick with the vibrant, layered aroma of crushed herbs and pine smoke.

  Sacks, bulging with spices and medicinal leaves, were piled high in the center of the square, a testament to the villagers' frantic, joyous preparations.

  "Hahaha! That's the biggest haul of herbs I've seen in my lifetime!" a villager laughed, clapping his hands together. "This will be more than enough! Now, we just wait for the main course…"

  As if summoned by his words, the door to his hut burst open.

  A woman, her face flushed and her chest heaving from a dead sprint, leaned against the frame. "Hah… hah… They're here!" she gasped out.

  The villagers needed no further prompting. Dropping their tasks, they surged towards the village entrance, a wave of anxious, hopeful energy.

  The mourners, who had been sitting in quiet, somber circles, rose to their feet, their grief momentarily eclipsed by a profound, disbelieving awe.

  The sight that greeted them was still unbelievable. A beast of legend, a mountain of bristled hide and furious muscle, was being slowly, painstakingly dragged into their village by a score of their strongest men.

  "Everyone, help them!" the village chief roared, his voice ringing with a newfound strength.

  "Lay down the coals! We'll cook it right here, in the heart of our home!" The call to action was a spark in a tinderbox.

  The entire village got to work, their sorrow transmuting into a focused, communal effort.

  The seasoned chefs, grizzled men with scarred hands and sharp eyes, gathered around the colossal corpse, their grins wide and triumphant.

  "This is the opportunity of a lifetime!" one of them boomed, brandishing a massive cleaver. "I'll make this beast a masterpiece worthy of its legend! Gahaha!"

  Amidst the jubilant chaos, Ying Xia rubbed her chin, a practical, hunter's concern knitting her brow.

  "Wouldn't a smell this strong attract other beasts to the village?" she asked, her voice quiet as she stood beside Bi Kan.

  He overheard her and let out a soft, knowing smile.

  "I doubt any beast in its right mind would come near," he reassured her. "At best, they’ve already fled. A creature like that doesn't just hunt in a forest; it dominates it. To lesser beasts, it was a walking natural disaster. Its territory is a place of fear, and its death will leave a vacuum that won't be filled for a long, long time."

  A villager, who had been struggling with a heavy sack of coals, paused to wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead. "O-Oh! Is that why the woods were so quiet on our way back?"

  Another man sighed in relief. "You should have said something, young hero! I was ready to draw my dagger at every rustle!"

  As the villagers bustled around him, their energy a vibrant, living thing, Bi Kan took a moment for himself.

  He let his consciousness drift inward, into the vast, silent ocean of his Soul Sea.

  "Heh," he thought, a flicker of profound awe mixing with his pride. "To think this space is truly mine."

  It was a secret sanctuary so profound he doubted even the Sect Master possessed such a gift, a direct result of the celestial wolf's impossible intervention. His inner gaze swept over the treasures that floated in the quiet stillness: the mountain of spirit herbs he had gathered, the brittle, hide-bound scrolls whispering of ancient secrets, the silent, waiting darkness of the black sword, and the priceless Venom-Quenched Frostpetal nestled beside the strange, gelatinous slime.

  "Soon," he vowed to himself. "Once I have the strength and status of an Inner Disciple, I will unlock every last one of your secrets."

  His thoughts, having soared to the future, settled back to the present. His gaze drifted downward, his features softening as a familiar worry gnawed at the edge of his satisfaction.

  He walked through the bustling village, his feet tracing patterns in the dusty ground, the triumphant shouts and laughter fading into a distant hum.

  "I wonder how Ming Mei is doing," he thought, a quiet ache of concern in his chest. "I hope you’re safe, Mei…"

  The moon cast long, skeletal shadows through the ancient trees as Hao Yu’s footsteps came to a sudden, silent stop.

  At his feet, bathed in the pale, ethereal light, lay the body of the scout that tailed behind.

  The man’s eyes were wide, frozen in a final, silent scream of surprise, his throat a gaping, bloody ruin. Hao Yu knelt, his movements fluid and unhurried.

  He dipped two gloved fingers into the dark, sticky pool of blood that had soaked into the forest floor, a silent, grim communion with the dead.

  "Boss… what happened here?" one of his men whispered, his voice a tight, nervous rasp that was swallowed by the oppressive silence of the night.

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  "Did they… get him?"

  Hao Yu’s gaze, sharp and analytical, swept over the clearing.

  He rubbed the blood between his thumb and forefinger, his expression unreadable. "Some of this is his," he stated, his voice a low, calm rumble. He then pointed to a series of smaller, darker splatters on the bark of a nearby tree.

  "But this… this is not." He rose to his feet, his yellow eyes glinting. "It's from the disciples."

  He judged the battlefield with the precision of a master hunter.

  There were no signs of a prolonged, chaotic brawl. Instead, the scene spoke of a swift, brutal ambush.

  A single, Qi-infused arrow was buried halfway into an ancient oak, its fletching still humming with a faint, residual energy.

  A faint, acrid residue clung to a patch of moss, the ghost of a poison talisman. His eyes narrowed. This was not the work of overwhelmingly powerful experts.

  "If they were truly masters, capable of felling our brother without a sound, they would not be so careless," he explained, his gaze sweeping over his anxious men.

  "This was not an execution, it was a desperate, well-planned attack. They bled. They used tools because their own strength was not enough."

  His mind worked, piecing together the narrative from the carnage.

  They're not Body Tempering experts, or they would have simply crushed him. They fought, and they were wounded in the process. They are resourceful, but they are vulnerable.

  "How many were there again?" he asked, his gaze settling on the bandit who had brought him the news.

  The man gulped. "F-Four, boss. No doubt about it." He hesitated, his eyes darting nervously into the deep woods.

  "Unless… unless they met up with other disciples…"

  Hao Yu nodded slowly, the possibility a new, dangerous variable in his calculations. "A valid concern."

  He looked down at the dead scout, a flicker of something almost like regret in his cold eyes, before turning his back on the body.

  "We will follow. They are wounded, and their trail will be clear." A grim, determined smile touched his lips. "They have made a fatal mistake. They have shown us that they can bleed. Now, we will hunt."

  He let out a soft sigh, leaving the man to the quiet indifference of the forest. With a curt nod to his men, they melted back into the shadows, their movements silent and purposeful.

  They were no longer just tracking footprints; they were following a fresh trail of blood, a crimson thread that would lead them directly to their wounded, exhausted prey.

  The village was a living, breathing thing, a chaotic symphony of joyous labor. Footsteps echoed from every corner as tables and chairs were moved into the main square, creating a makeshift feasting hall under the open, starlit sky. The air was thick with the rich, savory aroma of roasting meat, the sharp crackle of crisping skin a percussive beat against the murmur of conversation.

  Every villager had a task, their earlier grief channeled into a focused, communal effort.

  "Hey! We need more seasoning here!" a man roared, his face flushed from the heat of the massive fire pit.

  The colossal boar had been expertly butchered into manageable parts, each one destined for a different style of roasting.

  "Oi! I have a new batch of pork over here!" another chef shouted, emerging from a cloud of fragrant smoke.

  A few of the younger men, who had been chopping wood, rushed over, grabbing the heavy cuts of meat and tossing them onto the blazing hot charcoal with a satisfying sizzle.

  "Whew! Finally!"

  Others were already slicing the cooked portions, arranging them on large wooden platters.

  "Hey! Come take a break some of you! You all need to eat too!" A few of the laborers, their faces streaked with soot and sweat, gratefully stepped away from their tasks, plucking choice pieces of meat and tasting the fruits of their collective labor.

  "M-Mhm! That's actually quite good!" one of them mumbled through a full mouth. His friend, another self-proclaimed master of the roast, sneered good-naturedly. "Hmph, mine's better."

  Just as the feast was getting into full swing, a man rolled in barrels of his finest wine, each one brewed with rare spirit herbs from the forest.

  "Hehe, everyone's going to love this!" he boomed, slamming a barrel onto a table with a thud that made the cups rattle.

  "Everyone! Get your drinks!" As if a single string had been pulled, every head turned. Meat, no matter how legendary, was infinitely more delicious with fine wine.

  "Hell yeah! I've been craving some damn wine!" The first barrel was drained in a matter of minutes, a testament to their thirst for celebration. "A-Already empty,"

  a villager sighed, looking mournfully at his single, half-empty cup. His sorrow was short-lived as more barrels were rolled into the square.

  "We'll go all out!" a voice roared, and every cup was raised in a unified cheer. "OH!"

  But amidst the revelry, pockets of quiet sorrow remained.

  The stubbled man and his friend, having secured the largest, most succulent portions, made their way to the small, newly-dug graveyard at the edge of the village.

  "D-Dear… Eat this… Let us honor your brother," the stubbled man whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he placed a piece of meat before a simple wooden grave marker.

  He drank deeply from his cup, then poured a second onto the earth. "H-He was so brave, honey…"

  His wife, who had followed him, cried out, wiping a tear from her cheek before taking a bite of the meat he offered. "M-Mhm! He would've loved this…!"

  His companion sat beside his own mother, before his little brother’s grave. He said nothing, simply handing her a perfectly seasoned piece of roasted meat and a full cup of wine.

  "Mom…" He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Let's honor him." He gazed at the small marker, his own eyes welling up as they ate and drank in a shared, heavy silence.

  "I love you, mom…" His mother leaned her head against his shoulder, a single tear escaping from both their eyes. They missed him.

  Bi Kan, for his part, was enjoying himself. He ate his fill of the delicious meat but politely refused the wine, having never acquired a taste for alcohol.

  That is, until one of the older hunters, his arm in a sling but his spirits high, practically forced a cup into his hand. "Come on, young hero! This ain't just wine, it's a taste of victory!"

  Bi Kan relented, and the first sip was a revelation. A cool, pure energy, tinged with the sweet essence of herbs, spread through his meridians.

  "It's as if I just took a breath for the first time!" he exclaimed, though he drank moderately, the strange and pleasant warmth not enough to make him lower his guard.

  As the night wore on, Bi Kan looked around, a small frown knitting his brow as he searched for a certain flash of pink pigtails. "Weird… Where is she? I thought she'd be causing a ruckus by this time."

  An old man, his hands wrapped in clean bandages, came up beside him. "Looking for someone, young hero?"

  Bi Kan nodded, bowing politely. "Yes, I'm looking for Ying Xia. I figured she'd be at the center of all this noise, but it’s strangely quiet without her."

  A long, weary sigh came from the old man as he looked up at the glittering stars. "She's probably honoring her grandfather," he said, his voice soft.

  "He died years ago. After all, she did just kill that boar… a promise she made to her old man."

  Bi Kan’s eyes widened. A wave of profound understanding washed over him, re-contextualizing her frantic, almost manic drive to find the beast. It wasn't about ego, not entirely.

  It wasn't about proving she was better than her legendary grandfather. It was about honoring him, about seeing a childhood promise through to its bloody, triumphant end.