Chapter 172: Gray-Winged Wolf

Kyrian did not even look back to see the frozen beasts falling. His analytical gaze swept over the wave. It was monstrous, seemingly endless, but his eyes scanned the entire visible immensity, the entire area. No crushing pressure, no energy from being in the Spiritual Awakening realm or above.

Most of the beasts were between the Accumulation and Qi Release realms, with also many leaders or stronger mutants at the early stage of Core Formation. It was an overwhelming force by sheer numbers, not by individual quality. Kyrian was not very concerned.

Skirting the edge of the wave, Kyrian eliminated, with a simple look or with precise bursts of ice, any flying beast foolish enough to approach.

He flew over the chaos toward the cliff where the sect was located.

Up close, the scene was one of organized violence. Cultivators wearing the brown and gray colors of the local sect fought bravely, but they were clearly outmatched.

The line that made the difference was a smaller group, wearing the red present in the garments of the Bloody Court. They fought with brutal efficiency and an economy of movement that contrasted with the frenzy of the beasts.

From above, Kyrian had a complete view. Rivers of blood rose into the air. Not theirs, but the blood of the slain beasts.

They rose from the battlefield, controlled by the wills of the cultivators, and transformed into new weapons. Spears, blades, and whips that tore enemies apart.

It was a macabre and efficient cycle. They rotated, one group advancing and draining the field, while another retreated inside a shimmering energy barrier. The sect’s protective formation. They retreated to rest and recover their Qi. The line, though improvised, remained stable.

Kyrian landed the exhausted horse in an inner courtyard, just behind the barrier. Kyrian did not need anyone’s help to enter the barrier. He simply passed through as the mark on his hand flickered.

The barrier acted as if he were an ally, not blocking his entry nor the horse’s. Kyrian nodded in satisfaction, this protective barrier was low-level. Kyrian now had more information about formations, entering this now was simply easy for him.

Some of the local cultivators, wounded and frightened, cast him wary looks, but most were far too focused on the fight outside to care about Kyrian’s presence.

Almost immediately, a man wearing the red armor of the Bloody Court, who had been sitting on the ground meditating, quickly opened his eyes.

He was at the peak of the Qi Release realm, his face marked by fatigue, but his eyes alert.

Upon seeing Kyrian, a flash of recognition and surprise passed through his eyes. He stood up and approached quickly.

“Young Master Kyrian.” He greeted, inclining his head with respect. Kyrian did not remember him, but the tone and treatment made it clear.

This man had probably been at the fortress during the tournament. He had seen Kyrian in action.

Kyrian nodded briefly, his gaze already assessing the situation beyond the barrier.

“What is the situation?”

The man named Fen took a deep breath.

“Stable, for now. The beasts are countless, but their individual strength is limited.”

“Our attrition strategy is working. We control their blood, use it against the others, and rotate so we don’t exhaust our Qi. The problem is how long this will last.”

He pointed at the endless tide.

“This has been going on for practically an entire day already. There are no signs that it will retreat or be exhausted. If it continues like this for two or three more days… fatigue will consume us, even with rotations. And some of the more powerful beasts haven’t even shown up yet.”

As he spoke, another man approached. He was older, with a short, graying beard and the eyes of a hawk. His robes were more elaborate, a mix of the local sect’s brown with command insignias. He looked at Kyrian with frank curiosity and a hint of concern.

“Fen? Who is this? Reinforcements?” His voice was hoarse, projecting to be heard over the roar of battle.

Fen turned quickly.

“Elder Bo, leader of the defense of the Screaming Cliffs. This is Young Master Kyrian, disciple of the Main Branch of the Bloody Court.” Fen introduced them quickly.

Elder Bo’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. News of the tournament, of the newly arrived disciple’s victory, seemed to have circulated among close allies, and even he already knew.

He bowed slightly in a gesture of respect for his position, not necessarily for his person.

“Young Master. Your… help is unexpected. But welcome.”

He then looked at Fen, his expression hardening.

“Fen, it’s your turn. Liao’s group is becoming exhausted. They need cover to retreat.”

Fen nodded, turning to Kyrian.

“With your permission, young master. See you later.”

Without waiting for a response, he ran to the edge of the barrier, his blood Qi already pulsing.

A moment later, he was outside, plunging into the massacre, a river of fresh blood rising to answer his call.

Elder Bo turned his attention back to Kyrian, studying him.

“Were you sent by Lord Dong Zhen alone? Or are there others on the way?”

“I came of my own will. Dong Zhen probably doesn’t even know this place exists.” Kyrian replied, his eyes now scanning the wave, searching for something beyond the superficial carnage.

“I came to investigate the cause.” He finished.

“Investigate?” Bo looked perplexed and a little irritated.

“The cause is a curse or madness of the heavens! What is there to investigate? What we need is more brute force to survive.”

“Where did the wave begin?” Kyrian asked, ignoring the man’s words.

“Is there a point of origin? An epicenter?”

Bo waved his hand, frustrated.

“Our scouts were killed in the first hours. All we know is that it came from the lower lands, but in the middle of so many beasts…” He made a broad gesture toward the sea of beasts.

“…it’s impossible to tell, they move perfectly together.”

That was all Kyrian needed to hear. The place from which it arose. Where the influence of the Black Mass began, where it itself could be.

’I believe it’s in that direction. Within the wave of beasts or else farther away. If it were farther away, it would be perfect. I could deal with it easily using the book. But if it’s inside the wave of beasts, it will be a bit more complicated…’ Kyrian thought.

“You command the defense here?” Kyrian asked, his tone indicating it was less a question and more a statement.

Bo straightened his shoulders.

“Yes. I will command it until my last breath.”

“Continue like this. Hold the front line. I will deal with the cause.”

Before Elder Bo could process or protest, Kyrian was already moving.

“Deal with the cause? Alone? In the middle of that hell? This kid is suicidal?”

He did not run to the front line where the warriors of the Bloody Court were fighting. Instead, he had the winged horse rise into the skies again, passing through the barrier without much effort.

Kyrian rose above the barrier, the roar diminishing to a muffled thunder. The horse, though somewhat exhausted, responded to the command and gained more altitude, skirting the edge of the beast wave that stretched like a living, furious carpet at the base of the mountains.

He flew toward the lower lands, along the reverse route the tide had taken.

His solitary presence in the skies did not go unnoticed. Dark specks detached from the mass below. Dozens, then hundreds of flying beasts of all kinds, their red eyes fixed on the intruder.

They were giant crows with steel beaks, bats with armored hides, and birds of prey with serrated feathers. They rose in chaotic formation, a swarm of teeth, claws, and fury.

Kyrian did not slow down. His eyes, now an unperturbed ice-blue, swept over the approaching swarm. He made no elaborate gestures. He merely looked.

The air in front of the horse became a silent death zone. Every beast that entered that space froze instantly, their wings locked, their screams silenced, turning into meteors of ice that plunged back into the chaos from which they came.

It was an efficient and terrible harvest, sculptures of ice shattering on the ground.

The aerial path ahead of Kyrian was always clear, a corridor of cold air amid the heat of frenzy.

They traveled like this for several minutes, leaving the fortress of the Screaming Cliffs behind, following the trail of destruction left by the wave. The landscape below was a mute testimony. Crushed forests, rivers clogged with corpses, and fields plowed by claws and paws.

Then a new sound cut through the air, not the common roar of beasts, but a sharp, piercing howl laden with a bestial authority that made the black horse stop immediately. The sound came from above.

Kyrian raised his eyes. High above them, hovering like an enraged lord of the skies, was a beast he immediately recognized from the bestiaries of the library.

A Gray-Winged Wolf. Its body was sleek and muscular, covered in silvery fur that gleamed under the dim light. Its wings, enormous and membranous, beat with enough power to create small turbulences. Its eyes glowed in a blazing yellow hue, filled with innate and elevated hostility.

The energy emanating from it was dense and sharp, placing it firmly in the Core Formation Realm.

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