The rat-head's voice cut through the clearing, sharp with forced confidence.
"You really think," he sneered, claws flexing, "that **you alone** can deal with all four of us?"
The bull snorted heavily, hooves gouging trenches into the soil as qi surged around its massive frame. The Iron-Claw Eagle spread its wings fully—metallic feathers scraping together, talons glowing faintly with restrained power. The last cultivator tightened his grip on his weapon, eyes flicking between the fox and the surrounding shadows.
Four directions.
Four pressures.
All aimed at a single fox.
For a moment, the fox did not answer.
It merely tilted its head, ears twitching slightly, as if listening to something distant.
Then it chuckled.
Soft.
Almost amused.
"Alone?" the fox repeated.
Its gaze drifted—not to them, but to the **ground**, the **trees**, the **air itself**.
"You're still making the same mistake," it said calmly. "You think this fight is about numbers."
Its tails swayed once.
"Let me ask you something instead."
The fox's eyes snapped back to the rat-head.
"How many of the thirteen who came here are still breathing?"
Silence fell.
The rat's jaw tightened.
"…Four," he muttered.
The fox nodded.
"Good. You can count."
The black spear lowered slightly, its tip scraping against the earth—slow, deliberate, nerve-fraying.
"But you're wrong about one thing," the fox continued evenly. "I'm not alone."
The forest answered first.
The ground **shifted**—not violently, but unmistakably. Soil compressed. Roots tightened. A faint, telltale hum of qi stirred beneath their feet.
The bull's ears twitched.
The eagle screeched once, uneasy.
The rat-head felt it then—a presence that didn't *press* like cultivation, but **watched**.
The fox's smile thinned.
"I don't need allies," it said. "I need **time**."
Its gaze flicked—just for an instant—toward a patch of tall grass behind them.
Invisible.
Silent.
Watching.
"And you've already given me plenty."
The fox straightened.
"So ask the question again," it said softly, spear lifting. "But this time—ask it quickly."
The air tightened.
Because somewhere in the grass, something **moved**—without sound, without sight.
And for the first time since the fight began…
None of them were certain who the real prey was anymore.
---
The temperature **dropped instantly**.
Not gradually.
Not naturally.
It was as if the night itself had inhaled—and forgotten how to exhale.
A sharp **crack** echoed overhead.
Then—
**Ice spears rained down from above.**
Dozens of them. Long, translucent lances of frozen qi screamed through the air, tearing through branches, shattering leaves mid-fall, plunging toward the clearing like execution stakes.
The cultivators reacted on instinct.
"Above—!"
The bull roared, slamming its hooves down as a thick earthen dome surged upward. Ice exploded against it in shards.
The Iron-Claw Eagle shrieked, wings beating hard as it twisted midair—metallic feathers deflecting several spears while others skidded off a hastily raised barrier.
The remaining cultivator cursed and rolled, activating a defensive talisman just in time. Ice shattered against it, frost crawling up his arm.
Even the fox—
*fwoom*
Its barrier flared to life as three ice spears slammed into it almost simultaneously, bursting into freezing mist that washed over its fur.
The fox clicked its tongue.
"…Tch."
It glanced upward, then sideways, ears flattening slightly.
"…You really need to get your eyes healed," it muttered dryly. "You're attacking **everything** now."
No anger in its voice.
Just exasperated fondness.
As if commenting on a child throwing stones without looking.
The fox shook frost from its tails and **moved**.
Its black spear lifted, spinning once before snapping forward under its control—not toward the cultivators, but **through the falling ice**, shattering two spears midair and clearing space.
"Alright," the fox said calmly, voice cutting through the chaos. "If you're going to start raining death, at least let me set the stage."
The rat-head snarled, dodging a spear that pierced the ground where his head had been a heartbeat earlier.
"What the hell is this—?!"
He looked around wildly.
"This isn't your doing, fox!"
The fox smiled faintly.
"No," it agreed. "It isn't."
The ground beneath them **rippled**.
Not violently—**intentionally**.
Earth snakes surged from below, but this time erratically—some bursting up beneath cultivators, others slamming into barriers, others missing entirely and tearing through trees.
Wild.
Unrefined.
Dangerous.
The bull bellowed in frustration. "They're out of control!"
The fox's eyes flicked toward the grass, sharp and knowing.
*…Still learning,* it thought. *That's fine.*
It raised its voice.
"Listen carefully," the fox called, spear hovering beside it like a patient executioner. "This is the part where things get worse for you."
The rat-head's pupils shrank.
"What do you mean—"
Another **ice spear** fell—missing the rat by inches and impaling the ground between the bull and the eagle, detonating into freezing qi that locked the earth solid.
The clearing dissolved into chaos.
Ice from above.
Earth from below.
A fox in the middle—
calm, armed, and unmistakably in control.
The fox rolled its shoulders once.
"As you can see," it continued evenly, "my partner is blind, angry, and learning how to kill in real time."
Its gaze sharpened.
"And I'm done holding it back."
The black spear **lunged forward**, this time aimed true.
---
The shattered ice did not fall.
It **lingered**.
Mist rolled low across the clearing, thick and pale, swallowing ankles, then knees. The cold deepened—not sharp, but **heavy**, pressing into bone.
Within the mist, something **shifted**.
A long shape coiled.
Ice condensed—mist to frost, frost to crystal, crystal to solid mass. Segments locked together with deep, echoing *cracks*, and a **massive ice snake** rose from the fog, half-formed and half-unraveled, hovering even as its bulk dragged through the air.
It was uneven.
Its head too large.
Its segments mismatched.
One side thicker than the other.
Unstable.
But powerful.
Invisible nearby, the lizard stood motionless, claws sunk into the soil, breathing slow.
*…Still not right,* it thought calmly.
The connection felt **slippery**, like trying to grip flowing water with claws meant for stone. The ice answered—but not cleanly. Not obediently.
The snake's head swayed, reacting to scent and killing intent rather than precise command.
*But it's better than before.*
The lizard adjusted—not forcing, but **guiding**.
*Don't move like earth,* it reasoned. *Flow. Coil. Drift.*
The ice snake responded.
Slowly.
Its body tightened, segments smoothing as it turned. Frost crawled outward from where it hovered, freezing grass, roots—**even the air**.
The Iron-Claw Eagle shrieked, beating its wings hard to stay aloft.
"What the hell is that thing?!"
The bull snarled, breath fogging thickly as ice crept up its hooves.
The rat-head backed away half a step, whiskers trembling.
"This—this isn't controlled!" he shouted. "It'll hit us all!"
From the center of the clearing, the fox glanced up at the forming construct, ears twitching.
"…Yeah," it muttered. "That tracks."
It didn't retreat.
Didn't panic.
It simply shifted position—placing itself **just outside** the ice snake's most likely path, spear rotating slowly as if measuring trajectories.
"Easy," the fox called—not loudly, but clearly. "You're doing fine. Let it move. Don't choke it."
The lizard heard.
Not with ears.
With intent.
Its focus steadied.
The ice snake dipped—then **lunged**.
Not straight.
Sideways.
It swept through the clearing in a massive arc, forcing the bull to leap back, the eagle to climb sharply, and the last cultivator to hurl himself aside as freezing qi tore through the space they'd occupied.
The ground froze solid in its wake.
Trees cracked.
A barrier shattered with a sharp, brittle snap.
The lizard's claws trembled slightly.
*…I can feel it.*
Not mastery.
But **feedback**.
The ice snake recoiled, shedding shards as it withdrew into the mist—still dangerous, still unstable, but no longer flailing blindly.
The lizard stood invisible and still, head tilted slightly.
*I'm learning.*
Above the frozen clearing, the fox smiled faintly.
"…Very good."
The hunt was no longer clean.
But it was no longer uncontrolled.
And for the cultivators still standing—
That was far worse.