The bull stood alone, chest heaving, hooves digging deep into the ruined earth.
Its thoughts **raced**.
*Thirteen.*
That was how many had entered this place.
Now—
Only **one** remained.
*Me.*
Its gaze swept the clearing. Shattered ice. Crushed earth. Broken tools. Corpses—some still warm, others already stiffening. Every death lay exactly where the fox had wanted it. Each ally isolated. Turned. Picked off.
*A scheme… from the very beginning.*
The realization settled like ice in its chest.
> If I do nothing… I die here too.
The bull clenched its teeth.
*If it were only the fox,* it thought grimly, *this wouldn't be so difficult.*
Strong, yes. Cunning, yes. But still manageable.
The real nightmare was the **other one**.
That unseen ally.
No aura.
No fluctuation.
No presence.
It couldn't sense it **at all**.
*I don't know when it will strike…*
*I don't know from where…*
Its eyes flicked upward, then to the ground, then behind it—every direction felt wrong. Every shadow felt like a waiting mouth.
One terrifying truth crystallized:
> Running blindly would be suicide.
The bull forced its breathing to slow, crushing panic beneath discipline.
*Think. Think.*
The fox hadn't rushed it. Hadn't finished it off.
*Why?*
Because the fox was **confident**.
Because it was **waiting**.
And because the hidden ally—
that invisible predator—
was being wielded like a blade held just out of sight.
The bull lowered its head slightly, horns angling—not in aggression, but readiness. Qi began to circulate tightly, no longer flaring outward, but **compressing inward**, reinforcing flesh, bone, and instinct.
*If I can't sense it…*
*Then I have to force it to reveal itself.*
A reckless charge.
A sudden escape.
A desperate feint.
Any of them could bait an attack.
And the moment it struck—
> That would be my only chance.
Across the clearing, the fox watched in silence, tails swaying, eyes sharp with interest.
It could tell.
The bull had finally understood.
This was no longer a battle.
It was a **hunt**—
and the last prey had begun to think like one.
Then—
The bull froze.
*Blindness… and smell.*
The fox's earlier words echoed sharply in its mind.
> "You've been using your nose all this time…"
Its pupils shrank.
*If it can be tracked by scent…*
*Then it can be deceived by scent.*
The realization clicked into place like a locked mechanism turning.
That unseen ally—
that invisible predator—
It wasn't relying on divine sense.
It was hunting like a **beast**.
The bull's lips curled faintly.
*Then I don't need to outrun it.*
*I just need to make it lose me.*
Qi surged—not outward, but inward, precise and controlled. The bull bit down hard on its tongue.
Copper flooded its mouth.
Blood.
It spat a mouthful onto the ground, then slammed its hoof down. The earth cracked, swallowing the blood as qi forced it deeper, **spreading the scent** through soil and stone.
Another stomp.
Another smear.
Another controlled burst of qi.
The smell of fresh blood **exploded** outward—dozens of false trails blooming at once, soaking into earth, shattered roots, and fractured ice.
At the same time, the bull activated a sealing art—crude, but effective. Its pores tightened. Its natural scent dulled, suppressed beneath layers of earth-qi and metallic tang.
*Track that,* it thought grimly.
To a predator guided by scent—
There was no longer **one bull**.
There were many.
The real one stepped backward into churned ground thick with blood and death. It didn't flee.
Not yet.
No—
It waited.
Because now—
> When the invisible hunter lunged for the wrong trail…
That would be the moment the bull **moved**.
The fox snarled.
"**Bastard—where do you think you're going?**"
Its eyes swept the smeared earth, the overlapping trails, the deliberate chaos.
Understanding struck instantly.
*Damn it…*
Not just masking the scent—
the bull had **polluted** it.
Fresh blood. Old blood. Mixed blood. Earth-soaked trails layered atop one another until even a predator would hesitate.
The bull was buying time.
And time meant escape.
*I can't allow that.*
The fox's thoughts snapped into motion.
*If scent is the key… then I just need a **new** one.*
Its paw plunged into its pouch. A small jade bottle emerged, faintly warm, runes breathing softly along its surface. With a flick of its claw, the stopper popped free.
A pill rolled into its palm.
Dark crimson. Veined with gold.
The scent that leaked out wasn't blood.
Wasn't flesh.
It was **refined qi**—pure, concentrated, unmistakable.
The fox's lips curled.
*No beast forgets this smell.*
"Hey," the fox called sharply.
It lifted the pill, then flicked it with a pulse of qi.
The pill vanished—
—and reappeared inches from the bull's horn, hovering, trembling with condensed power.
The bull's eyes widened.
The fox didn't pause.
"Ignore the blood. All of it," it said coolly.
"Focus on **that** smell."
Its gaze flicked—deliberately—toward empty air.
"If you don't recognize it," the fox continued evenly,
"then just lock onto the *new* scent."
The pill pulsed once.
Bright.
Distinct.
Impossible to mistake.
"That's your target."
For half a heartbeat—
Silence.
Then—
Far away , unseen—
Lightning crackled softly.