Two days had already slipped away. Only the final day remained, and anxiety now simmered through the hunting ground. Every participant was scrambling, pushing deeper, sharper, faster.
From the murmured conversations drifting between the trees so far, Zora gathered one thing: No one had found the Gale wolf.
At the moment, she settled beneath a tree, slid into cultivation, and let her breath steady.
Strength spent must be replenished. The last day would demand precision.
Yet while she trained in quiet focus, word of Emerald and Kylan's deaths spread across Mt. Philanos like wildfire.
"I've seen the bodies," a trembling practitioner whispered. "Both killed with a clean throat-cut. Definitely a cultivator's blade."
Shock rippled everywhere. In this competition, Emerald and Kylan had been among the most formidable contenders.
If someone could kill both in such a clean fashion… how terrifying must their strength be?
