The fifteenth day inside Beast Valley.

The Death Reaper Mantis was training beneath a waterfall when a cascade of seven-colored light erupted across her entire body.

The energy pillar rising above her head struck the waterfall with enough force to reverse its flow — countless droplets shot upward in reverse, inverting toward the sky in a sight that defied comprehension.

The shockwave rippled outward in every direction.

It expanded at extraordinary speed, yet somehow left the surrounding flowers, grass, and trees completely unharmed. The deer, sheep, cattle, and horses grazing nearby weren’t startled — they simply raised their heads as one and watched the golden energy pillar rising into the sky with something resembling reverence.

The sickle weasel and Longma, napping in the shade of the trees, jolted awake from their sleep and leaped to the treetops, looking toward the mountain across the valley where a golden column of light reached higher than the waterfall’s cliff, higher than the summit itself.

Separated by over ten kilometers, the energy wave and the aura of supreme will behind it still struck both of them to the core.

Long after the golden pillar faded, the sickle weasel finally managed to swallow.

“Ten days to reach near-Sacred Beast. Then just five more days to ascend to full Sacred Beast. A realm that every single one of the Five Beast Kings has spent their entire existence unable to reach — and she achieved it in half a month. What kind of potential is this?”

Longma’s voice trembled slightly. “Perhaps she was already a Sacred Beast to begin with.”

“Impossible. No one would risk sending a Sacred Beast through the Rebirth Gate. If it was destroyed in the newborn stage—” The sickle weasel shook its head firmly.

“He has Pandora’s Box. He has calamity force protection. What risk would stop someone like that? And I think he might even have a Divine Beast. Nothing else explains how completely he understood Sacred Beast cultivation from the start — and Sacred Beast is clearly not his endpoint.”

At that, the sickle weasel fell silent.

Looking at things honestly — that was exactly how it appeared.

The young man could have moved toward the latter stages of Beast Valley’s trials five days ago, the moment the Death Reaper Mantis reached near-Sacred Beast level. Her intelligence alone would have made the remaining trials manageable. But he hadn’t left. He had kept training until Sacred Beast — and even now, barely half a month in, there was no sign he was finished.

A Divine Beast. That was the true objective.

Had anyone ever cultivated a Divine Beast inside Beast Valley?

The sickle weasel looked at Longma with the question in its eyes. Longma shook his head slowly. Several thousand years trapped here, and he had never once heard of it. Not once.

If this new arrival actually cultivated a Divine Beast — what would become of Beast Valley?

He suspected that every resident and every beast-transformed failure in the entire valley combined wouldn’t provide enough energy to fuel a Divine Beast’s development.

“Hmm.” Longma signaled the sickle weasel to go still and silent.

Not because of the vulture that periodically circled overhead gathering intelligence for Lion King — that creature was always careful to stay far away, typically sweeping past at altitude and retreating the moment it confirmed its targets were still present. What Longma had spotted was the enormous object being carried in a streak of shadow that flashed across the sky like a falling star.

The stiff, paralyzed body of the vulture.

Human head, butterfly wings, wasp body — the Poison Wasp King, one of the five faction leaders.

Why had it captured the vulture alive?

And why was it flying straight toward the waterfall?

Was it not afraid of the calamity force curse?

“Looks like a good day — another visitor.” At the small pool at the waterfall’s base, Yueyang was lying back on a sun-warmed rock with his bare feet dangling in the cool water, letting the Death Reaper Mantis’s tiny fists knead his shoulders at a leisurely pace, occasionally opening his mouth to accept a grape she held out for him.

“There are many kinds of visitors.” The Poison Wasp King dropped the stiff-bodied vulture on the ground nearby.

“Which kind are you?” Yueyang asked pleasantly.

“Not the kind that came to die and feed your war beast’s advancement. The kind that can be trusted — and worked with.” The Poison Wasp King settled onto a nearby rock and tapped the paralyzed but living vulture with one hand. “This is my first gesture of goodwill. If you’re willing to trust me, I’ll offer more. You can trust me — before your war beast reaches Divine Beast, I will use everything I have to help you achieve that goal.”

“I appreciate it. Could you give me a reason?” Yueyang chuckled. “You’re not going to tell me you’re Beast Valley’s volunteer saint who just loves helping people for free.”

“I want one thing.” The Poison Wasp King’s expression shifted, becoming completely serious.

“And what would that be?”

Three kilometers away, both the sickle weasel and Longma had crept as close as they dared and were straining to hear every word.

What deal was Poison Wasp King making with this young man? To kill Lion King and claim the top position among the five leaders? To defeat the twin-headed black dragon guarding the Wisdom Fruits? Whatever the condition, it had to be something earth-shattering — a deal that would reshape the entire balance of Beast Valley.

The Poison Wasp King considered briefly.

Then spoke a word that nearly made both the sickle weasel and Longma cry out involuntarily:

“Freedom. I want nothing else. Only freedom.”

Freedom.

Something every pauper in the Heavenly Realm possessed without a second thought. Even the lowliest beings of the most subordinate races, living as something barely above insects — they still had freedom. It might be a compromised, diminished freedom, not the genuine article. But even that pale imitation was more luxury than any creature in Beast Valley could ever dream of reaching.

Beast Valley had everything.

Everything except freedom.

Longma and the sickle weasel had thought they had forgotten the word. Hearing it now, they couldn’t stop the tears.

When a person has freedom, they never know its value. Only when freedom is gone does its true worth become apparent.

Freedom — something anyone could possess but, once lost, no treasure in the world could buy back. Its worth had no equivalent. No substitution. Only those who had lost it truly understood: a person could survive without money, without shelter, without comfort, without wealth, without fame, even without love — but not without freedom.

The Poison Wasp King covered its face with its hands. Its voice, almost inaudible, broke: “You stand in the sunlight, a child of heaven. You could never understand how exhausting these years have been. Six thousand years ago I was a kind woman who never took a life. What I’ve become to survive here — the Poison Wasp King that makes this entire valley tremble — is something I cannot undo. The people I’ve killed here outnumber everyone I knew in my entire life before. And even in the darkest moments of despair, not once — not for a single half-second — did the longing for freedom leave my heart. It was the light I followed through the dark. My father and husband both fell before my eyes, their lives spent to clear a path forward for me, their hopes transferred to my shoulders. My mother gave herself in subjugation to those who held power over her for decades — enduring, until I was strong enough to protect myself. The day I finally could, she ended her life in front of me.”

Yueyang shook his head. “I’m sorry for what you’ve been through. But Beast Valley has its own Laws. I can’t change those for you.”

The Poison Wasp King wiped its tears quickly and raised a hand. “There is something I know. Around six thousand years ago, before I had fully grown and was still suspicious of everything around me — a man came through who seemed like a god. He told me a condition: if I contracted below Sacred Beast level and became a war beast under a Sacred Beast’s command, I could leave with them. But at that time I was still a resident, still holding two chances. To contract, I would have had to take my own life first and become a beast form. I was suspicious of the man. I refused his offer. And then I waited — and waiting became six thousand years.”

“Why do you trust me?” Yueyang asked genuinely. “What makes you think I’m trustworthy?”

The Poison Wasp King paused. “Having you as an enemy would be a terrifying thing. You are not a gentle or forgiving person — the decisiveness with which you act, the way you treat opponents as nothing, it makes the bones cold to contemplate. But having you as a friend — I believe that would be something remarkable. For freedom, I’m willing to take the risk of trusting you once. You are the best candidate for cooperation I have encountered in six thousand years.”

“There is one more reason I’m willing to trust you.” The Poison Wasp King met Yueyang’s gaze steadily. “That day — the man who seemed like a god — his presence was very similar to yours. Perhaps you aren’t related, but you are the same kind of person. From the same place.”

“What was his name?”

“He was called Zhanfeng. His enemies called him the Prison Emperor.” The Poison Wasp King would never forget that name, or the silhouette of that figure departing with a sigh.

“Him again,” Yueyang muttered with mild exasperation. That man had people who remembered him everywhere — six thousand years later and this creature still hadn’t forgotten him. Quite devoted, really. Though given the connection to the Prison Emperor, and considering the Prison Emperor’s divine seal currently sitting in his pocket, and his tiger girl’s Prison Emperor Divine Sword, and Wuxia’s Prison Emperor Divine Staff — receiving all those treasures for free and then refusing to extend even a minimal courtesy in return did feel somewhat ungracious.

Fine. Consider it a karmic investment.

Yueyang asked one last question: “Your parents and your husband all died here. You’ve been trapped here six thousand years. Even if you could leave — would there be anything left for you out there?”

The Poison Wasp King’s eyes lit with a faraway longing. “I promised them I would carry their ashes home and bury them on the mountain peak of our homeland. I promised my mother I would personally deliver our clan’s sacred heirloom to my younger sister, pass the throne to her, and let her lead the wasp clan to a new era — or, if my sister is long gone, to her descendants. I carry their hopes. But beyond that — in my own heart — I have never stopped wanting to see that day. Even if it’s just one day of freedom. Just one glimpse of the open sky I once lived beneath. Just one look at the home where I used to walk freely. That would be enough. I could die without regret.”

One day of freedom, and she could die without regret.

Those words moved something in Yueyang — even with the Sovereign intent steadying his heart.

He couldn’t help with many things. But for someone who had held onto hope and purpose for six thousand years — and where a single nod from him could make it real — it was worth serious consideration.

The Death Reaper Mantis, listening to everything, was weeping openly, her tiny face completely undone.

Three kilometers away, Longma and the sickle weasel were also in tears.

They were barely holding themselves together, teeth clenched to keep from making a sound.

Freedom. The thing they had stopped letting themselves dream of. Just one day under an open sky, living freely — yes. That truly would be enough to die without regret.

Through blurred eyes, both looked at each other at the same moment and understood exactly what they saw in each other’s gaze.

I want freedom too.