“Are you certain you won’t leave?” Yueyang asked one final time before departing, looking at the Human-Faced Tiger and the still-recovering Eagle King.

“We have no one left out there. No ties, no attachments — being outside wouldn’t be much different from staying here. More than that, after everything we’ve been through, and after so many years confined to this valley, we’ve lost our feel for the outside world. There’s still plenty worth doing here. Darius and the Lion King are both willing to divide the valley three ways — the Eagle King and I make one faction. We’re not the strongest, but we can hold our own, and there are still residents and beast-people who follow us. If we left, I’m not sure they’d survive.” The Human-Faced Tiger shook its head with a quiet smile and declined the invitation. “Better to be a small leader in a place I know than an insignificant nobody out there. Every blade of grass in this valley, every stone — I know them all. I’ve lived here so long it feels like home. If I’m honest, the thought of leaving pulls at me a little.”

“Perhaps someday we’ll go. But not now.” The Eagle King added its own thanks to Yueyang.

“As you like. The choice is yours.” Yueyang nodded and turned to leave.

The Poison Wasp King, Longma, and the sickle weasel — all temporarily contracted under the Death Reaper Mantis — waved farewell to the crowd of beasts that had come to see them off.

Unlike those three, who had joined through alliance, the remaining slots in the exodus had required real agonizing. A Sacred Beast could escort up to ten beast-people out of the valley, and the cheetah brothers, the Bobtail Cat, the rhinoceros, the elephant, and the others had spent considerable time wrestling with the decision before committing.

Some beasts, like the Human-Faced Tiger and Eagle King, had simply made their peace with the valley as home and had no desire to leave. Old Baboon Longwhisker was among them.

Others were still residents who would need to let their war beasts die one or two more times before qualifying for passage as beast-people — a price that gave many pause. Only one resident, a quick-footed creature called Wind Fox, had chosen to die twice on purpose, gambling its life for one of the precious ten slots. The final slot went to the Lion King’s former strategist, the Crow — the one who had thrown its black feathers across the sky to intercept the Black Sun’s Death Ray when the Bobtail Cat, the rhinoceros, and the others were running for their lives. When the Crow came to Yueyang, no one disputed the last place.

“Brothers — farewell.” Longma raised a hand toward the friends it was leaving behind. The thought of freedom now so close, set against all the years and all the things that had happened in this valley — the feelings collided and overwhelmed him, and he couldn’t stop the tears from coming.

“Farewell!” Nearly every beast and resident in the valley had come to see them off.

Ten people departing. But for those left behind, those ten represented something — a thread of possibility, thin but real. If another challenger as gifted as Yueyang ever came along and cultivated a Sacred Beast, there was still a way out. Every person staying knew how improbable that was. But it wasn’t impossible. A challenger exactly like Yueyang might never come again — but even a war beast of extraordinary intelligence, short of Sacred rank, could carry one person free. Sacred Beast could take ten; anything less could take one. Even one was hope, wasn’t it?

When Yueyang and the Death Reaper Mantis emerged from Beast Valley and stepped back into the wider world, the Poison Wasp King, Longma, the sickle weasel, and the others were bathed in a wash of golden light — and transformed back into human form, one by one.

The war beasts they had cultivated within the valley were gone entirely, leaving behind only a single demon crystal each. If not for those crystals warm in their hands, Longma and the sickle weasel might have entertained the absurd suspicion that none of it had been real — that the entire nightmare and wonder of Beast Valley had been some elaborate dream.

Had all of that actually happened?

Had any of it been real?

Real or not, being human again was enough. It demolished whatever composure remained. They grabbed each other, laughed through tears, shouted at the sky, and spent a long and undignified time simply releasing the feeling of being free.

“Hey — Sickle Weasel, do you still have family out here? If not, come find us — wait.” Longma got a proper look at his companion’s restored form and stopped mid-sentence. “Hold on. You’re Sky Fire Clan? I thought you were Night Wind Clan!”

“And you said you were Earth Dark Clan!” The sickle weasel looked equally betrayed. “Everyone knows that’s Lin Cascade Clan markings all over you!”

“What’s all this about?” Yueyang asked, puzzled.

“Nothing to worry about — those two clans are born enemies. Sky Fire versus Lin Cascade. Should be entertaining.” The Poison Wasp King hadn’t changed much in her restored form — she had always been a wasp-person. Her words were barely out before Longma and the sickle weasel had already turned to face each other like a pair of roosters squaring off, clearly on the verge of throwing punches.

“Take your time, don’t rush on my account.” Yueyang yawned and waved a hand. “I’m going home to sleep. Carry on.” He turned to leave.

“How do we find you, when the time comes?” The Poison Wasp King voiced what everyone was thinking.

“Give us a location! We’ll bring our whole clans!” Both Longma and the sickle weasel had arrived at the same conclusion — following Yueyang was the only sensible future available.

“Why would I want anything to do with your clan affairs? We’re out of the valley, and that’s the end of it. Nobody is following me anywhere. Get out of my sight, all of you.” Yueyang turned on them with genuine irritation. Running a nursery was nobody’s idea of a good time — and there was certainly no pay involved. Who in their right mind would volunteer to be everyone’s leader, exhausting themselves day and night for zero appreciation? Being the big boss every waking moment wasn’t Yueyang’s idea of living — he wasn’t Sea Fatty, with that ridiculous appetite for status and attention. Absolutely not.

The scolding landed like a bucket of cold water. The emotional, tearful farewell atmosphere evaporated on the spot. Everyone scattered, each making themselves scarce with impressive haste. Yueyang was still living with the grievance of not having squeezed quite enough out of the two-headed black dragon, and right now, whoever attracted his attention was asking for trouble.

The moment Yueyang was gone, the Poison Wasp King gathered the group and dropped her voice: “Conquest City. He let it slip once, without thinking — he mentioned having some companions training there. Following him directly is out of the question; take a good look at yourselves, you’d all be deadweight who needed rescuing again before the week was out. But if your clans have talented young ones, that’s where the opportunity is. Now I’m leaving. You two — carry on fighting.”

She vanished into the sky.

The group exchanged looks all around.

Then, one by one, they nodded.

Only a fool would pass up the chance to align with Yueyang. Even setting aside any ambition for clan advancement, staying within the orbit of a supreme powerhouse meant protection — the kind that let you build something stable and lasting.

“We do need to fight,” Longma said, staring at the sickle weasel with a cool smile. “But you’re too weak. A couple of punches and you’ll be on the ground — where’s the satisfaction in that?”

“I’d be more worried about you crawling around looking for your teeth. If you want a real contest, let’s drink. Loser’s a turtle.”

Their actual power levels weren’t all that different, and after surviving Beast Valley together — life and death and everything in between — there wasn’t much real animosity left to feed. This was just two people who couldn’t stop themselves from having the last word. They both threw a punch at the other’s chest simultaneously, winced identically, and then broke into matching laughter. Two sets of arms slung around two sets of shoulders, and they walked off together squabbling cheerfully like old friends who had never been anything else.

The rhinoceros and the others, who had been looking forward to a proper fight, stared after them with deflated expressions. “They’re not fighting. What do we do now?”

The Crow was already following. “Who knows what comes next — why think about it? First, we drink!”

“Wait—!”

The rest scrambled to catch up.

They were out of Beast Valley. Clan obligations, family complications — all of that could wait. They had survived thousands of years in that place. A few more days wouldn’t matter. Tonight was for celebrating.

Conquest City.

Yueyang found Sea Fatty and the others looking like they’d been dragged through a grinder and stepped on — the veteran soldiers had apparently been running them very hard indeed. Something quite rare stirred in him: pity.

“You’ve been training this long and the progress is negligible. You’re an embarrassment to the Sky Stairway’s name. For the sake of my own reputation — I suppose I’ll have to do something about this. Perhaps another round of Ancient Dragon blood to give you all a boost. Otherwise I’ll be too ashamed to admit I know you.”

Sea Fatty erupted immediately. “Excuse me! My progress has been enormous! As a leader, I lead by example — I set the standard. It’s Ye Kong that bird-brain whose results are catastrophic. Even as a sidekick he’s an embarrassment to the Sky Stairway’s name. I am unambiguously the standout performer of this group — look, my war beast is practically a Sacred Beast already!”

The Wind-Tide Sea Bird had indeed made remarkable progress, having successfully developed a beautiful human face. The result was striking — something like a divine sea creature, part eagle, part woman, but projecting an aura of sacred dignity rather than anything sinister.

Though in fairness, most of that development had little to do with Sea Fatty’s efforts. Sea Fatty had improved substantially — but nowhere near Snow-Hungry Wolf’s level. There was a considerable gap.

In the middle of Sea Fatty’s enthusiastic sales pitch about his future “beautiful Sacred Beast,” the Death Reaper Mantis made her appearance.

Sea Fatty stared at her for a very long time without making a sound.

Then, in a trembling voice, with the expression of a man who desperately wanted not to believe his own eyes: “That’s… that’s the Death Reaper Mantis? The one that used to go around crunching Draco Lizard skulls? It can’t be. What in the world happened? How is she so tiny, and how is she already at Quasi-Divine Realm — beyond Sacred rank? I can’t live like this. You’re being completely unreasonable. Do you know how hard it is to cultivate a Sacred Beast? And you show up like this? You couldn’t have just let me enjoy this for two days? How am I supposed to maintain my standing as the most gifted young genius in the entire Sky Stairway’s history when you keep doing things like this to me?”

Yueyang had nothing to say to this.

“Fatty, are you asking for another beating?” Ye Kong couldn’t restrain himself any longer. Gray Wolf charged in from the side to help.

Even Snow-Hungry Wolf and the Tianra Prince extended middle fingers in Sea Fatty’s direction — insufferable people were not uncommon, but Sea Fatty had achieved a truly remarkable standard of insufferability. The Sky Stairway’s reputation genuinely suffered for having produced him.

The veteran soldiers had also gone still — though not because of the Death Reaper Mantis.

They had frozen when Yueyang mentioned Ancient Dragon blood as a means of further enhancement. Their own assessment had been that Sea Fatty and the others had essentially plateaued — their potential had calcified to some degree, and while marginal improvement remained possible, the bloodline foundation was too firmly set for significant external modification. They had privately mourned this limitation. Now, hearing Yueyang suggest he had a method to push past it, they were quietly astonished.

They looked at Yueyang again, with fresh attention.

He was not the same young man who had first walked into Conquest City.

He seemed to be approaching the threshold of the divine realm — or something close to it.

Progress that rapid in someone that young was, strictly speaking, not supposed to be possible.

They were about to ask, but Yueyang gave them no opening. A cryptic smile, a hand on the Three Realms Compass, and he was gone in an instant — back to the Sky Stairway.

Only Gray Wolf, who had just been delivering a fist-bump of flattery to Yueyang’s arm while the Death Reaper Mantis watched, felt a sudden stab of competitive anxiety. It scrambled after him at once, trotting along behind on the return journey.

Absolutely not. Flattering the master was Gray Wolf’s job. That little upstart was not going to steal its exclusive role. As the most loyal war beast at its master’s side, Gray Wolf would not permit anyone to challenge its proprietary position.

In terms of performance and dedication, Gray Wolf was first. Always first. That was simply a fact.

“Buried Sword Valley — I’m assigning it to you. If you find a suitable rune while you’re there, it’s yours.” Yueyang decided it was past time to give Gray Wolf something productive to do before all that excess energy became a problem.

“AWOO!” Gray Wolf nearly passed out from excitement. The master always looked after it best. It thumped its chest emphatically, radiating absolute confidence that the mission would be handled flawlessly.

No detour to the Tianra Royal Palace.

Gray Wolf split off mid-journey, bid Yueyang farewell, and headed straight for the Great Xia Imperial Palace.

First order of business: find that old fox Shui Dongliou. The Buried Sword Manor commission — Gray Wolf was taking the whole thing on itself.