The Iron Butcher Union and Silent Fang arrived at the mountain intersection almost simultaneously.

The stone path that cut through the slope was wide enough to accommodate both groups with ease, yet the moment they came into view of one another, the space felt as though it had been compressed by an unseen hand. Boots crushed loose gravel underfoot.

Robes brushed against cold stone. No one drew a weapon, and yet the air itself grew sharp, saturated with killing intent that pressed down from all sides like a suffocating mist.

The two factions halted several dozen steps apart, instinctively maintaining distance.

Iron Butcher cultivators gathered into a dense formation without needing to be told. Their presence was heavy and blunt, their auras rolling outward in solid waves that carried the oppressive weight of raw strength rather than refinement.

Their stances were firm, feet planted as if rooting themselves into the mountain path. Hands hovered close to hilts and blades, not in haste, but in readiness. Even at rest, they resembled a wall that could surge forward at a single signal.

Silent Fang stood in stark contrast.

They did not cluster. Instead, they spread naturally along the edges of the path, their positioning loose yet deliberate. Some leaned casually against rocks, others stood half-turned as if disinterested, but their eyes remained alert, tracking every movement without pause.

Their auras did not push outward. They remained coiled inward, restrained and controlled, like fangs hidden behind closed jaws, waiting for the moment they would be needed.

At the center of the confrontation stood only two figures.

Iron butcher Union Messengers.

Aoyagi Ren’s gaze settled on Qin Bing and Qin Ling the instant he assessed the scene. His expression did not change, but the missing presence before him was impossible to ignore.

The lack of tension in his posture did not signify ease—it suggested absolute confidence, the kind that came from knowing he could dictate the direction of events with a few words.

He took a single step forward.

No command followed, yet the reaction was immediate. Iron Butcher members advanced half a step in unison, their formation tightening almost imperceptibly. At the same time, Silent Fang operatives adjusted their positions along the periphery, their loose spread subtly reshaping into a shallow semicircle that enclosed the intersection without fully sealing it.

Qin Bing felt the shift at once.

The pressure that settled over him was not openly hostile, nor did it carry the sharp edge of an imminent attack. It was heavier than that—measured, deliberate.

Aoyagi Ren stopped several paces away, his gaze steady as it fixed itself on Qin Bing. His voice, when he spoke, was calm and even, neither raised nor sharpened, yet it carried the kind of authority that demanded an answer regardless.

"What happened?"

Qin Bing’s thoughts moved quickly, calculating angles that had nothing to do with combat. How much had already been reported? How much could still be concealed? Where had the failure truly begun—and, more importantly, where would responsibility be allowed to settle?

Aoyagi Ren did not press further. He did not need to.

After a brief pause, his eyes narrowed just slightly, the smallest shift in expression betraying impatience rather than anger.

"Where is our target?"

For a brief, terrifying moment, it felt as though the mountain itself had turned hostile. Pressure crashed down from every direction as cultivators released their killing intent almost simultaneously—some deliberately, others instinctively—until the air grew thick and suffocating, heavy enough to crush breath from lungs.

Qin Ling’s knees buckled instantly.

He hit the ground hard, palms scraping against stone as his body failed him outright. Qin Bing endured a heartbeat longer, teeth clenched, muscles screaming as he fought to remain upright—before the pressure forced him down as well.

They were forced to their knees, bodies locking in place as the pressure crushed down upon them. Muscles refused to respond, limbs trembling violently, and even lifting their heads became impossible under the overwhelming weight bearing down on their spirits.

Only when Aoyagi Ren lifted his hand did the pressure ease.

The change was immediate.

One by one, the killing intent receded, flowing back like water drawn away by an unseen force. Qin Bing gasped sharply, lungs burning as though he had just surfaced from deep water. Cold sweat soaked through his robes as he bowed deeply, cupping his fists with hands that would not stop shaking.

"Junior greets Great Senior," he said hoarsely.

Qin Ling followed, pressing his forehead fully to the ground this time, fear leaking from him uncontrollably despite his efforts to restrain it.

The members of Silent Fang did not look away.

Their gazes remained fixed on the brothers, senses probing, dissecting, searching for fluctuations in qi, for hesitation, for lies. Aoyagi Ren did not stop them. He simply asked again, his tone unchanged, his patience unbroken.

"Where is our target?" He asked again.

This time, Qin Bing did not dare hesitate.

"Senior Ren," he said, still kneeling, voice tight, "we followed him since morning. We tracked him continuously... all the way to this point."

He paused, throat tightening ,

Cao Jin’s eyes narrowed sharply.

"Then speak," he growled, taking a half-step forward. "What happened?"

Qin Bing swallowed hard. "A few minutes ago... he vanished."

The mountain path fell silent.

"Vanished?" Cao Jin snapped, humiliation flashing across his face before boiling into fury. "How does a Qi Condensation cultivator vanish without leaving a trace?"

Before he could continue, another voice cut in calmly from the side.

"What were you doing at the time?"

Minazuki Haru stepped forward slightly, his smile thin, eyes bright with sharp interest. The leader of Silent Fang regarded the kneeling brothers as one might inspect faulty tools—without anger, without sympathy, only evaluation.

At the question, Qin Ling pressed himself even lower to the ground, his shoulders trembling.

Qin Bing hesitated—only for a breath.

"We were fooled," he admitted at last, the words stiff and bitter. "He distracted us. While we reacted... he escaped."

Several members of Silent Fang smirked openly. One covered his mouth, stifling a laugh. What can we expect like leader like their subordinate one muttered not trying to lower his voice.

At least he didn’t die," Haru said mildly. "That would have been embarrassing paperwork."

Cao Jin’s killing intent flared violently, sharp and murderous. He took a step forward, fury rolling off him in waves.

"Useless," he spat.

Before he could act, Aoyagi Ren raised his hand.

"Enough," he said calmly.

The word carried absolute authority.

Cao Jin froze in place, jaw clenched, eyes burning—but he did not disobey.

"So this is Iron Butcher discipline?""Unfortunate." Haru muttered loud enough to heard

Aoyagi Ren turned toward Minazuki Haru. "It seems we part ways here."

Minazuki Haru chuckled softly. "Whoever finds him first," he replied lightly, "keeps the reward."

With a casual wave, he signaled Silent Fang to withdraw. Their figures melted back into the forested mountains, faint laughter lingering in the air long after they were gone.

Aoyagi Ren watched them disappear before turning to his second-in-command.

"Han Jue," he said. "Find him."

"Yes," Han Jue answered immediately.

Only then did Aoyagi Ren face Qin Bing and Qin Ling once more.

"Explain everything," he ordered, his gaze cold and unyielding. "From the beginning. In detail."