Eklavya gathered his ki with practiced ease, directing it into both of his legs. The familiar ripple of power surged downward, condensing into the formation of five chakra rings that spiraled around each limb. The moment the rings solidified, the weight of his body seemed to evaporate. His steps felt spring-loaded, as if the earth itself had loosened its hold on him. Every muscle in his legs thrummed with controlled force, ready to launch him into motion the moment he willed it.

  Anshvi lay against his chest, her weight surprisingly light but her presence grounding him in ways he didn’t have time to acknowledge. He adjusted his hold around Anshvi’s waist, securing her against him, then bent his knees slightly and pushed off the ground.

  Within breaths, he closed the distance between him and the six disciples blocking the narrow path. When they first noticed him running toward them, carrying Anshvi as though retreating, they exchanged knowing smirks. To them, he looked like a hunted animal finally giving in—someone who had exhausted all options and was now presenting himself to be captured. Their confidence swelled so obviously that Eklavya almost laughed. They thought they had won. They thought he was surrendering.

  But as he approached, their expressions shifted. Something in his eyes—sharp, amused, almost too calm—pricked their instincts. Eklavya slowed just enough to lean slightly toward them, his voice brushing past their ears like a mocking whisper.

  “Thank you for helping me to deal with them.” His smirk cut deeper than a blade.

  Before they could react, he sped past them with impossible speed. They stood rooted in confusion at first, glancing at each other in disbelief. His words twisted in their minds, the meaning refusing to settle. One disciple narrowed his eyes, repeating the sentence silently, and just as understanding flickered, the earth trembled beneath their feet.

  Cracks raced outward in jagged lines, soil crumbling into the widening gaps. A terrible rumble echoed from behind them, and when they turned, their faces lost all colour. A massive horde of beasts—second-tier, third-tier, and even fourth-tier—poured into the clearing. Their claws tore at the ground, their fangs gleamed with hunger, their collective roars shaking the valley like thunder.

  “You… bastard!” all six shouted in unison, the words full of fury and despair.

  They raised their weapons out of instinct rather than strategy. The beasts crashed over them like an unstoppable tide. Screams, metal, and tearing flesh filled the air for a few fleeting moments before the clearing fell silent again, leaving only the sound of beasts continuing their chase after Eklavya.

  Anshvi stirred slightly against his chest, to speak. “Did you know,” she asked, her voice was filled with curiosity, “that a fifth-tier beast can control other beasts? Is that why you struck it earlier?”

  Eklavya inhaled, steady and unbothered. “No,” he replied with a shrug, still running. “I just took a gamble. Figured if it could control the lesser ones, I’d lead them straight to the disciples of the Falling Leaf Sect. And… Well, it seems I was right.”

  She blinked at him, speechless for a moment. His recklessness should have bothered her. Instead, she found herself letting out an exhausted breath that almost sounded like a laugh.

  As they moved deeper into the forest, Eklavya spotted another group of disciples—about a dozen this time—gathered near a collapsed tree trunk, discussing something with grave expressions. Without slowing, he angled his steps toward them and raised his voice dramatically.

  “Please help!”

  Every head snapped toward him. When they saw who it was, their serious expressions morphed into predatory smiles. They reached for their weapons, expecting to block his path and finally capture him. But Eklavya streaked past them before a single blade could leave its sheath. The wind left in his wake wasn’t even kind enough to let them keep their balance.

  They start cursing him and preparing to give chase when the forest behind them shook. The disciples turned instinctively—and all the blood drained from their faces. The horde descended upon them before they could run, roaring as they toppled trees and crushed soil beneath their feet.

  The last thing those disciples ever saw was a wall of fangs and claws rushing toward them.

  Eklavya didn’t look back.

  The roars echoed behind him as he reached the clearing where the six grandmasters and Jhanad were stationed with more disciples. They stood beneath the shelter of an enormous dripping tree, the rainfall thinning into a soft mist around them. Maps, talismans, and jade slips floated in the air as they discussed strategies to capture Eklavya—strategies now rendered utterly pointless.

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  Eklavya sprinted directly toward them with Anshvi still in his arms. When the grandmasters saw him coming, their eyes lit up with triumph. Jhanad stepped forward with false composure, clearly imagining the praise he would receive for catching the boy.

  Eklavya slowed, lowered Anshvi gently to her feet, and faced them calmly.

  “You came by yourself?” Jhanad asked with a smug expression. “We were just making plans on how to capture you.”

  Eklavya gave him an unreadable smile. “Why would I hand myself over? I’m not stupid enough to let anyone kill me.”

  Jhanad frowned. “Then why come here? Why walk straight into our hands?”

  The answer revealed itself before Eklavya could speak.

  The ground shuddered violently. Birds fled from the treetops in flocks. The wet earth trembled beneath everyone’s feet as a deep, thunderous rhythm approached—dozens, then hundreds, of heavy paws slamming the ground.

  A massive horde of beasts—every creature that had been chasing Eklavya until now—crashed into the clearing.

  The grandmasters summoned their weapons, throwing talismans into the air and activating their ki techniques. The disciples scrambled for formation, their faces turning pale as they saw the sheer number of beasts pouring into the clearing. Claws slashed through tree trunks, enormous bodies toppled over one another, and the roars of dozens of third-tier beasts overlapped until the air vibrated.

  Eklavya grabbed Anshvi’s wrist and guided her up the trunk of a thick, rain-slick tree whose branches reached high enough to hide them from sight. The leaves still held droplets from the fading rainfall, their surfaces glowing faintly as moonlight seeped through the canopy.

  From their vantage point, they watched chaos unravel below.

  The six grandmasters were powerful—far stronger than ordinary cultivators—but even they were quickly overwhelmed. Ki blasts collided with beast hides, bursts of elemental attacks illuminated the battlefield, and terrifying beast roars answered each strike. The grandmasters cursed Eklavya’s name between every breath, screaming about revenge, humiliation, and the disgrace of being tricked by a boy they underestimated.

  But something felt wrong. Eklavya frowned as he surveyed the chaos below. “Where is the fifth-tier beast?” he muttered under his breath. “It should’ve appeared with the horde. Why isn’t it here?”

  Anshvi followed his gaze, equally puzzled. It did not show itself even as its underlings threw themselves into battle.

  For nearly two hours, the two of them sat silently atop the branches, watching the desperate struggle unfold below. Rain had stopped completely now, leaving only the lingering mist that made the battlefield look like a scene from a distant nightmare. One by one, beasts fell under the coordinated strikes of the Falling Leaf Sect. Blood soaked into the ground, the scent thick and metallic in the still air.

  When the battle finally ended, beasts retreated in scattered groups, realizing the fight was unwinnable. Dozens of disciples lay lifeless on the ground. Many more were gravely injured, holding themselves upright with bloody hands as they tried to stabilize their breathing.

  Only the six grandmasters remained standing alongside Jhanad and a few more disciples, all heaving heavily, their bodies drenched in sweat and blood.

  Jhanad glared toward the forest with reddened eyes, veins bulging in fury. “You bastard!” he roared. “I will kill you today!”

  Eklavya responded with maddening calm. “You should rest well today. Tomorrow I’ll bring more.”

  Jhanad lost control and flew into the air, propelling himself toward Eklavya with a speed that tore through the leaves. Just as Eklavya predicted and just as he prepared for.

  The moment Jhanad closed the distance, Eklavya channeled soul power from his token. He gathered ki into his left hand, forming five blazing chakra rings around his wrist. The rings pulsed with raw force, their brightness reflected in his sharpened gaze.

  Just as Jhanad came within arm’s reach. Eklavya’s punch landed directly on Jhanad’s face with an impact strong enough to send the grandmaster hurtling downward. Jhanad crashed into the ground, skidding across the mud as blood splattered from his mouth.

  “At your current state,” Eklavya said as he dropped down from the branch, “even a master warrior could defeat you. And yet you dared to fight me?”

  Jhanad crawled backward, fear replacing his earlier arrogance. “You… you monster—”

  Eklavya stepped closer, his expression was unreadable.

  Anshvi landed beside him like a shadow. She scanned the battlefield with narrowed eyes. “Should we kill them all?” she asked quietly, her voice cold and steady.

  “Of course,” Eklavya replied, a smirk touching his lips. “They wanted to kill us. Why show mercy?”

  The remaining grandmasters struggled to stand, trembling and barely able to lift their weapons. Before they could react, Anshvi moved—silently, swiftly, with the deadly precision of someone who had long accepted the consequences of survival. Her spear swept through throats and hearts with terrifying ease. Blood arced in the air with each strike.

  Eklavya approached Jhanad, who was still trying to crawl away. Without hesitation, he thrust his sword into Jhanad’s chest, ending his final scream before it could escape his throat.

  Anshvi readied her spear for the last strike on the remaining survivors, but Eklavya raised his hand.

  “Let them go.”

  Anshvi stopped immediately, though confusion flickered in her eyes. Eklavya didn’t explain, but she understood enough. Mercy wasn’t always mercy. Sometimes, leaving survivors was more terrifying than killing them.

  Two wounded grandmasters escaped into the forest—not because they were strong enough, but because Eklavya allowed it.