For the three rival clans, the expedition had dissolved into a slaughter. The Qin family had taken the brunt of it; their forces were all but extinguished, leaving only a handful of trembling Qi Refining disciples. Both of their Foundation Establishment elders had already been chewed apart by the ruin’s beasts.

The Qi clan, however, had managed a grim miracle. Qi Li had survived the same white bear that had devoured Qin Hu. Though he was breathing, he was far from whole. His face was the color of old ash, his breath ragged, and only eight of his kinsmen stood behind him.

Qi Li led these survivors through the shadows of the Pill Cauldron Sect ruins, scavenging scraps while desperately hugging the darkness.

“Granduncle, we’ve shaken off the beast,” a younger Foundation Establishment cultivator whispered, his voice trembling. “What is our next move?”

Qi Li paused, his eyes darting through the gloom. “The Qin forces are dead. The Ji clan, however… they still have a head on their snake. Ji Xiaotang is alive, though I do not know where she hides.”

“Granduncle,” the junior’s eyes lit up with sudden avarice, “are you planning to move against the Ji clan? They must be heavy with loot. If we strike now…”

“Fool!” Qi Li spat the word, his face twisting in disgust. “Have you forgotten the fourth group? There are outsiders in these ruins!”

He grabbed the junior by the collar. “If we attack the Ji family now, the Qi clan will be the next to rot. Think! If you were that hidden third party, how would you react to us killing each other?”

The junior paled, the memory surfacing. “I… I killed one of them a few days ago. What do we do?”

“We make for the exit,” Qi Li said grimly, releasing him. “And we wait.”

“Wait?”

“Precisely. The men we left outside have likely already been purged by their rear guard. Walking out blindly is a death sentence.” Qi Li sighed, the crushing weight of leadership bowing his shoulders. “We ambush them from the inside. We unite with the Ji family, capture a hostage from the opposing group, and force a negotiation. It is our only path to survival.”

Elsewhere in the ruins, Ji Xiaotang had regrouped with her own battered forces.

The butcher’s bill was high; less than half of her Qi Refining disciples remained. She had brought thirty-five kin into the ruin. Ten guarded the exterior, meaning a dozen lay dead in the deep.

As she surveyed her group, her cold gaze fell upon three stragglers from the Qin and Qi clans who had been trailing her people, hoping for safety in numbers.

Without a word, Ji Xiaotang drew her sword.

Steel flashed. Three heads rolled across the stone before the bodies realized they were dead.

“Sister!” Ji Xiaomo gasped, staring at the fresh blood. “You…”

Ji Xiaotang sheathed her blade, her expression unreadable. “You are too soft-hearted, Xiaomo. They were shadows. What if they disobeyed an order? What if they revealed our position? I will not tolerate variables.”

She looked at her younger brother. His Spiritual Root was excellent, but his nature was fatally naive.

“But… aren’t we allies?” Xiaomo asked weakly.

“Who told you that?” Xiaotang scoffed. “We were merely forced to open the door together. That is not an alliance.”

She shook her head, dismissing the moral quandary. “Do not burden yourself with these thoughts. Just know this: the truce is broken. If you see members of the other two families, do not hesitate. Strike to kill.”

Ji Xiaomo scratched his head, offering a foolish, helpless grin. “I’ll listen to you, Sister. You decide everything. To be honest, they’ve been pestering me with questions for days. It was getting annoying.”

Ji Xiaotang sighed inwardly. If she were to leave the clan, who could possibly support the family legacy? This boy would be eaten alive by the cultivation world. Pushing the worry aside, she signaled the group. “Move out. We head for the exit.”

While the families plotted their desperate endgames, Wang Hao prowled the heart of the Spirit Medicine Garden.

He moved like a phantom, avoiding the territorial beasts. He lit a stick of Hidden Spirit Incense—a parting gift from Li Derong—and suppressed his spiritual fluctuations until he was little more than a blur in the air.

He crept toward the location of the Gold Essence Fruit tree.

The orchard sat above the cloud line, shrouded in a dense, spiritual mist. The Qi here was rich and heavy, a testament to the ancients of the Pill Cauldron Sect who had chosen this soil.

Yet, the mountain was silent. Terrifyingly so.

Wang Hao frowned. According to his intelligence, a Rank 3 white bear should have been guarding this spot. Instead, there was nothing but the bleached skull of a Rank 2 beast rotting near the roots.

He watched for a long time. Nothing moved. The wind didn’t even dare to rustle the leaves.

“The map can’t be wrong,” he muttered. “The skull is right there. Why is the guardian missing?”

Greed warred with caution. The Gold Essence Fruit was too valuable to abandon; fifty years was too long to wait for another chance.

“Forget it. Grab the fruit and run,” he decided, teeth clenched. “Even if a beast appears, I can handle a standard Rank 2 creature.”

Steeling himself, Wang Hao abandoned his stealth and dashed toward the tree.

It was a fatal miscalculation.

The moment his foot touched the soft earth within the tree’s perimeter, the tranquil forest screamed. The towering, ancient trees seemed to wake from a centuries-long slumber, their branches whipping out like flails, their roots surging from the earth like pythons.

Wang Hao didn’t have time to draw breath. The roots snaked around his ankles and surged up his legs, binding him tight. The grip was hydraulic, crushing, squeezing the air from his lungs in an instant.

“A Wood Demon?” Wang Hao’s eyes widened.

Realization struck him cold. No wonder he hadn’t seen a beast. The guardian was the environment. He had walked right into the mouth of a mimic.

It was a desperate situation. He abandoned all attempts at concealment.

“Burn!”

Wang Hao channeled his spiritual energy to the breaking point. The Red Lotus True Fire erupted from his pores, a violent crimson explosion that turned the air into a furnace.

The flames, now empowered by his mid-stage Foundation Establishment cultivation, were tyrannical. They incinerated the binding roots instantly, turning the demon’s wood to ash before it could tighten its grip into a death squeeze.

A hundred zhang away, a massive tree shuddered.

Green light pulsed along its trunk, forming a grotesque, tumor-like bulge. The bark cracked open with a sickening wet sound, revealing two enormous, emerald-green eyes and a gaping maw.

The eyes were cold, devoid of emotion. The mouth pursed and blew a silent breath.

The entire Spirit Medicine Garden rioted. Every vine, every branch, every root in the vicinity animated, swarming toward Wang Hao. They threw themselves into his fire like moths to a flame, heedless of their own destruction, seeking only to bury him under their sheer weight.

“Insignificant tricks,” Wang Hao scoffed, masking his fear with arrogance. “You dare show off such paltry skills?”

He raised both hands, expanding the Red Lotus True Fire into a spherical barrier.

“Let’s see how much kindling you have to spare.”

If he were still at the third layer of Foundation Establishment, this swarm might have overwhelmed him. But at the fifth layer, his reserves were deep. The vines rushed in, only to be vaporized by the heat.

A pillar of fire rose into the sky, illuminating the misty garden like a beacon.

Realizing the vines were ineffective against the inferno, the Wood Demon shifted tactics. The main body began to move, lashing out with roots made of Rank 2 mid-grade spirit wood. These were far tougher, resistant to the flash-burn of his flames.

Wang Hao felt the pressure mounting as the dense net of roots closed in. He kicked off the ground, soaring into the air.

The roots thrashed helplessly below, unable to bridge the gap to the sky.

The Wood Demon’s emerald eyes swiveled upward. The bark around its trunk shifted, snapping off hundreds of sharp branches. They transformed in mid-air, becoming green wooden spears, glistening with sap and malice.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

The volley screamed toward Wang Hao. He was a sitting duck in the open sky.

These were natural spirit weapons, hard as iron. But Wang Hao sneered; they were strong, but they were slow.

His figure blurred.

The Child-Mother Green Light Sword danced in his hands, fracturing into thousands of sword lights. At the same time, his body split into three distinct afterimages.

The green spears slammed into the sword curtain. Some shattered on impact; others punched through, obliterating the image of Wang Hao.

But the image dissolved into mist.

The real Wang Hao materialized further away, untouched, a mockery of the demon’s efforts. The Wood Demon’s massive trunk shook violently, a silent tremor of pure, impotent rage.