The serene waters of Mirror Lake, once a quiet sanctuary of weeping willows and glassy reflections, had become a crimson slaughterhouse.
Hundreds of beast carcasses floated in the shallows, their dark blood clouding the cold mountain runoff and staining the reeds along the eastern perimeter.
Ironhide Boars, Razor-Clawed Badgers, and packs of low-tier predators lay scattered across the shore, cleaved by broadswords and pierced by arrays of barbed spears.
Every able-bodied martial artist from across Aurora City had mobilized.
Formed into disciplined defensive lines spanning the narrow basin between the mountain gorge and the outer city walls, they fought with coordinated desperation.
Though the swarms numbered in the hundreds, the vast majority were Tier 1 beasts—creatures only equivalent to the mortal Body Tempering Realm.
Working together in organized battalions, the seasoned Bone Forging cultivators of the prominent families cut them down with steady efficiency.
At the absolute forefront of the line stood three imposing figures, their robes billowing in the mountain wind.
Leading the vanguard was the City Lord, standing tall with a heavy, spirit-inscribed saber in his hand, radiating the suffocating, heavy spiritual pressure of the 3rd level of the Blood Quenching Realm.
Half a pace behind his left and right flanks stood the two pillars of Aurora City’s clan hierarchy: Patriarch Lucas David and Patriarch Lewis.
Both veteran clan leaders held weapons drawn, their bodies wrapped in the dense, torrent-like crimson auras of the 1st level of the Blood Quenching Realm.
The three titans rarely swung their blades at the low-tier fodder.
They preserved their reserves, only intervening when a rare, aggressive High or Peak Tier 2 beast—monsters with the bone-shattering lethality of an 8th or 9th level Bone Forging expert—broke through the line.
Whenever such an apex predator charged, a single, devastating slash from the City Lord or one of the patriarchs would sever its skull, keeping the defensive wall unbroken.
The battle had raged without pause since early morning.
Now, the sun had fully dipped behind the western ridges, yet darkness did not blind them.
A crisp, bright full moon hung suspended in the cloudless sky, casting cold silver brilliance across the lake and keeping visibility sharp.
Far behind the front ranks, sheltered near the reserve barricades, stood the younger generation of the city’s prominent families.
Young talents like Reiner, Rovman, and the other youth were placed in the rear under the direct guard of veteran elders, kept safe from the chaotic front lines.
The City Lord flicked a splatter of black beast blood from his saber, his brows furrowing as he stared into the dark, churning tree line of the primeval forest.
“I’ve never seen a beast tide like this,” the City Lord spoke, his deep voice laced with exhaustion and grim foreboding. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
“It began at sunrise. It is already approaching night, yet they simply keep coming as if something in the deep mountains is driving them mad.”
Lucas David tightened his grip on his broadsword, his weathered face etched with deep lines.
“Yes, this is truly abnormal. I only pray no truly monstrous beasts emerge from the inner ridges.”
Patriarch Lewis, wiping sweat from his brow, let out a dismissive scoff.
“There are no such horrors in the outer perimeter of the Eastern Mountain Range, Lucas. In the entire history of Aurora City, Tier 2 is the absolute ceiling of what roams these low crags.”
Lucas gave the rival patriarch a cold, sideways glance.
“I certainly hope your confidence holds, Lewis.”
The City Lord let out a heavy breath, shaking his head.
“Early this morning, the moment the alarms sounded, I dispatched my fastest scout toward the Royal Capital on my personal Tier 2 spirit-steed. Even at a dead gallop, he cannot reach the capital gates before tomorrow at noon. And even if the Imperial Court immediately authorizes aid and dispatches a Soul Forging Realm powerhouse to rescue us, even with their terrifying flying speed, that master cannot arrive before tomorrow night.”
The City Lord’s sharp eyes swept over the blood-soaked basin.
“I pray this tide exhausts itself soon. If not, we will have to hold these beasts off with our own blood until tomorrow night at the earliest.”
A heavy, suffocating frown settled over both patriarchs.
Their knuckles tightened around their hilts.
Holding the line against hundreds of beasts for an entire day was exhausting; holding it for another twenty-four hours was a nightmare that would drown the city in blood.
Back in the rear guard, the atmosphere among the David family was just as tense, though gripped by an entirely different sorrow.
Reiner stood with his arms crossed, his broad shoulders hunched as he stared at the damp earth with pale, hollow eyes.
Beside him stood his father, Eldest Uncle John, along with Rovman and Second Uncle Miller.
“How are we going to tell Lucien about Aunt Leona?” Reiner whispered, his voice trembling with an ache that the roaring battle ahead couldn’t drown out.
Rovman clenched his fists, staring into the dark waters of the lake.
“I don’t even know what happened, Reiner. Where did Aunt Leona go? What took her away? What we witnessed… it was completely beyond our mortal understanding.”
Eldest Uncle John placed a heavy, calloused hand on his son’s shoulder, his jaw clamped shut in silent grief.
“It is true,” Reiner muttered, exhaling a shuddering breath.
“Right now, all we can do is hold this line and overcome the beast tide with our lives. Once the city is safe, when Lucien returns from his travels… we will tell him everything we saw.”
The chaotic screeching and grunting of the Tier 1 beasts stopped instantly.
The night wind died over Mirror Lake, and a freezing, suffocating chill descended from the high crags.
Awoooo—!
A terrifying, blood-curdling howl tore through the mountain mist, followed by two deeper, echoing roars that shook the pebbles beneath the soldiers’ boots.
The ambient spiritual Qi above the tree line warped, turning jagged and wild.
From the black depths of the primeval woods, three massive shapes stepped out onto the blood-soaked shale.
They were wolves, but each stood as tall as a warhouse, their massive frames radiating a suffocating, tyrannical malice.
Their eyes burned with pure crimson savagery, their hungry gazes locking directly onto the assembled human army.
The three beasts were completely distinct in hue:
To the left stood a wolf covered in thick, bristling white fur that crackled with sub-zero frost.
To the right prowled a beast of abyssal black fur, shadows coiling like smoke around its massive paws.
And in the center stood their vanguard—a massive wolf covered in glowing violet fur, with jagged lightning arcing across its broad shoulders, radiating a presence visibly more tyrannical and savage than its two companions.
All three beasts radiated an unbridled, suffocating pressure that crashed over the shoreline like a physical tidal wave:
Early Stage Tier 3!
Three Tier 3 demonic beasts—each one fully equivalent to a human master of the 1st to 3rd levels of the Blood Quenching Realm!
The entire front line froze in utter horror.
Mercenaries dropped their shields, city guards stumbled backward in sheer terror, and the two clan patriarchs went pale as chalk.
The City Lord’s saber trembled slightly in his grasp, his eyes widening in pure disbelief and cold despair.
“How is this possible?!” the City Lord’s voice cracked through the stunned silence.
“There aren’t supposed to be any Tier 3 beasts in the outer parameters of the Eastern Range!”