As the new growth settled back into stillness, Lin Mu's senses stretched outward instinctively. The wind carried more than the scent of soil now—it brought whispers of pain.
A sharp thread of anguish fluttered at the edge of his perception.
Someone or something was nearby.
Without hesitation, Lin Mu turned and leapt down the slope.
WHOOSH
Then he flew, not towards the temple, but to the forest outside it.
Lin Mu stepped into the forest, guided by the faint trail of blood smeared across a patch of broken leaves.
The cries he'd heard earlier had quieted, but the unease in the air lingered like a mist. Birds had fled, insects hushed. Even the wind seemed cautious.
He crouched beside a bush, gently parting the foliage—and found it.
A young Ironhide Boar, no larger than a calf, lay collapsed near a moss-covered tree. Its side was gouged open, the wound festering with lingering traces of corrosive Qi. A spirit beast, yet barely in the Dao Treading realm.
