The silver mist of the Misty Forest clung to Lin Mo’s robes like cold silk as he ventured deeper, the air growing denser with the oppressive aura of high-tier demonic beasts. The pouch at his waist, now heavy with six demonic beast cores, jingled softly with each cautious step—six down, four to go. Yet his mind remained sharp, attuned to every rustle of leaves and fluctuation of spiritual energy, for Elder Wang’s threats lingered like a noose.

Abruptly, the Six Paths Immortal Root in his dantian stirred, emitting a faint, throbbing hum. Lin Mo halted, his hand drifting to the cloud-patterned token at his chest. It was not the warning of danger he expected, but a pull—a gentle, insistent tug toward a hidden grove ahead, veiled by cascading ivy and ancient stone pillars. Curiosity overlaid with caution, he circled the perimeter, his Body Lightening Step muffling his footsteps, before confirming the area was clear of ambushes.

Beneath the ivy lay a weathered stone tablet, its surface carved with faded runes that glowed faintly when his fingers brushed over them. As the Heavenly Immortal Art coursed through his veins, the runes blazed to life, projecting a holographic map of the forest’s core—a map that marked a small, uncharted cave system beside a subterranean spring. “A trial secret,” Lin Mo murmured, realization dawning. The outer sect trial’s rules had never specified that hidden treasures were off-limits; only that disciples must survive and collect cores.

He followed the map’s, slipping through a narrow crevice in the rock face. The cave opened into a cavern bathed in bioluminescent moss, its floor dotted with glowing blue flowers that emitted a sweet, calming scent. At its center bubbled a spring of golden liquid, and beside it, half-buried in soft soil, lay a small, unadorned jade box. His heart raced as he pried it open—inside, a single pale green pill, its surface etched with delicate patterns, and a tattered scroll bound in black silk.

The pill’s aura was faint but pure, a [Foundation Establishment Elixir]—a treasure that could stabilize a breakthrough and shield the cultivator from backlash. The scroll, however, held a far greater secret: [Spirit Vein Concealment Art], a forbidden technique that allowed one to mask their true cultivation realm, rendering them invisible to spiritual senses. “Perfect,” Lin Mo breathed. This would be his ace against Elder Wang’s endless schemes.

As he stored the treasures, the token in his robe blazed red—a desperate danger signal. Elder Qing’s voice cut through his mind, urgent: “Lin Mo, flee at once! A team of inner sect disciples has been dispatched by Elder Wang, and they bring a [Spirit-Eating Beast] to subdue you. The spring’s energy masks your aura, but the beast’s sense of blood is unyielding!”

Panic surged, but Lin Mo acted without hesitation. Rolling up the scroll, he slipped the elixir into his sleeve, then activated the Spirit Vein Concealment Art. His spiritual energy shrank, condensing into the faint aura of a mid-stage Qi Refining disciple. The moment he vanished into the mist, the cavern shook as a feral roar echoed outside—the Spirit-Eating Beast, a six-tailed wolf with jaws lined with serrated fangs, had caught his scent.

He raced through the forest, the beast’s snarls growing closer behind him. Its attacks shattered trees like kindling, sending splinters flying, and Lin Mo narrowly dodged a swipe of its claws that grazed his shoulder, drawing blood. The scent of his blood only spurred the beast on, and he knew he could not outrun it forever.

Just as hope dimmed, a commotion erupted ahead. A group of outer sect disciples from the Li and Zhang factions—rivals to both the Wang family and Lin Mo—had cornered a trio of Wang disciples, their spiritual swords drawn. “Hand over your cores, and we might let you live,” a Li faction disciple sneered, his eyes glinting with greed.

The Wang disciples, outnumbered, tried to negotiate, but the Li faction struck first, their attacks brutal and unrelenting. Lin Mo skidded to a halt, watching from behind a boulder. This was his chance—chaos to cover his escape. Yet as he watched, he noticed one of the Li faction disciples, a young man with a scar across his cheek, fixate on the faint trail of blood on his shoulder.

“Who goes there?” the scarred disciple shouted, pointing. “I smell blood!”

The Li and Zhang disciples turned, their gazes locking onto Lin Mo. For a heartbeat, the fight paused, replaced by a tense standoff. The Wang disciples, seeing their chance, fled into the deeper mist. “A stray Wang disciple?” the scarred disciple muttered, then grinned. “No matter—his blood might draw the beast. Let him be the bait.”

Lin Mo’s blood ran cold. They intended to use him to lure the Spirit-Eating Beast away. Before they could move, he unleashed a burst of spiritual energy, slamming a palm strike into the scarred disciple’s chest. Th