The fox barked a sharp, irritated laugh—its composure cracking just enough to feel real.
"What the hell are you doing?" it snapped, its voice ringing across the shattered clearing. "I thought we were supposed to be partners."
Its gaze cut sideways—away from the bull, away from the eagle—toward empty air.
"Are you seriously just going to stand there and watch while I get ganged up on?" the fox continued, teeth flashing. "Or do you really think I'm capable of dealing with all of them alone?"
It scoffed, frustration biting into every word.
"Let me make this clear—I can't."
Silence followed.
The rat-headed cultivator's pupils shrank.
The bull stilled mid-snort, hooves digging deeper into the frozen ground. Even the Iron-Claw Eagle slowed its wingbeats, circling warily overhead.
Partners?
Who is it talking to?
The rat's whiskers twitched as it swept its divine sense outward in a wide arc, probing the battlefield—through shattered ice, fractured earth, lingering qi turbulence.
Nothing.
No hidden cultivator.
No concealed beast.
No fluctuation beyond the three of them… and the fox.
The bull's brow furrowed. "It's bluffing," it rumbled, but the certainty wasn't there.
The eagle tilted its head, crimson eyes narrowing as it scanned the air, the ground, even the fox's shadow.
No presence…
Then why would it say that?
The rat's mind raced.
Either the fox is lying… or whatever it's talking to is hidden so deeply that even divine sense can't touch it.
A chill crept up its spine.
The fox exhaled slowly, its shoulders lowering just a fraction—as if resigned.
"Tch… figures," it muttered, loud enough for them to hear. "Always like this."
It didn't even turn its head as it kept speaking, its voice low and sharp, threaded with irritation that sounded far too specific to be madness.
"I get it," it said flatly. "You're blinded. Happens. Not your fault."
Its tails lashed once.
"But you've been using your nose this whole time," the fox continued, enunciating every word. "So why the hell aren't you doing that now? Or haven't you smelled it yet?"
The rat-headed cultivator stiffened.
The fox's gaze drifted—again—to empty space.
"I thought your sense of smell was supposed to be great," it went on, almost mocking now. "You should smell it. Fresh blood. Still warm. Still bleeding."
It inhaled slowly, deliberately.
"You can smell it, can't you?" the fox said. "So pinpoint it. Lock onto it. And go for it."
A pause.
"That's your target."
For half a heartbeat—
Nothing happened.
Then the bull snorted explosively, rage boiling over.
"Enough!" it roared. "You think you can confuse us with nonsense?!"
Its hooves slammed into the frozen ground, cracking ice and stone alike as it charged. Mountain-shaking momentum rolled forward, horns lowered, killing intent surging ahead of it.
"You're playing the fool, fox!" the bull thundered. "Spouting words that make no sense—"
The fox finally turned.
Its eyes were calm.
Too calm.
At the same moment the bull surged forward—
Invisible at the very edge of the clearing, the lizard froze.
Hmn…
Its tongue flicked out once, then again—slow, tasting the air rather than the ground.
The smell… fresh blood.
It inhaled deeply.
The scent slid into its senses—thick, metallic, unmistakable.
Not from the earth.
Not from the frozen corpses.
Not from the fox.
Fresh blood.
Not pooled on the ground.
Not smeared across ice or fur.
Its head tilted slowly as it followed the trail, nostrils flaring wider. The world sharpened—not in sight, but in scent.
Suddenly—
Its slit pupils snapped upward.
There.
The realization struck clean and cold.
Above.
One of the prey had been injured—wounded but still flying, struggling to remain aloft. The scent trail was thin, scattered by the wind, but unmistakable to something born to hunt.
That's it, the lizard realized, excitement honing its thoughts.
That's where the blood is coming from.
Its body lowered into a crouch, muscles compressing like drawn bowstrings. Invisible wings unfurled silently, membranes stretching wide without stirring the air.
Lightning began to crawl across its scales, thin arcs snapping and vanishing as power charged through its frame. The energy wasn't wild anymore—not completely.
This…
This is what I need to attack.
The lizard's focus narrowed to a single point in the sky.
Prey above.
Blood in the wind.
The crackle of lightning intensified, veins of light racing along its limbs and wings. The air around it prickled, charged and restless.
Above, the eagle circled—armored, confident, unaware.
Below, the bull thundered forward.
And at the edge of the battlefield, unseen and perfectly still, the lizard crouched—
ready to strike the sky itself.
The air tore.
With a single snap of its wings, the lizard launched.
There was no warning cry.
No ripple of visible qi.
One moment the sky above the clearing was empty—
The next, something appeared beside the Iron-Claw Eagle.
Too close.
Too fast.
The eagle didn't even have time to screech.
The lizard's jaws widened, lightning crackling violently along its fangs as it bit down with surgical precision—right where the scent was strongest, right where the fox had forced the wound open earlier.
CRACK—!
Its fangs slammed into the eagle's earth-grade spirit armor, electricity surging into the engraved lines. The armor flared instinctively, runes blazing as they struggled to compensate.
The eagle felt it instantly.
Its eyes widened in shock.
"What—?!" it shrieked midair. "My armor—!"
It twisted violently, wings flailing as it tried to pull away, balance shattering. The sudden impact sent it spiraling, feathers scattering as it barely kept itself aloft.
The eagle's head snapped toward the empty air beside it, pupils dilating in panic.
"I— I can't see anything!" it screeched. "But I can feel it—!"
Another snap of jaws.
Lightning crawled across the armor again, shorting several runes. The pressure didn't come from a single point—it was everywhere, constant and relentless, like something was chewing at the barrier itself.
The eagle thrashed, beating its wings wildly, trying to gain distance.
"Get off—!" it screamed, swinging its claws blindly through the air. "Get off me!"
Nothing connected.
Because there was nothing to see.
Below, the fox felt it—the sudden disruption in the air, the sharp spike of fear and pain from above. Its lips curled.
Good.
The bull skidded to a halt mid-charge, hooves carving trenches into the frozen ground as it looked up, stunned.
The rat-headed cultivator froze, whiskers trembling.
"Above—!" the rat shouted. "Something's attacking the eagle—!"
The eagle reeled again, its armor flaring unevenly now, sparks flying as lightning-infused bites hammered the same weakened point.
"I don't know what it is!" the eagle cried, panic finally seeping into its voice. "But it's tearing into my armor—!"