"Young master Kazel, I hope you find this place adequate," Toghon said as he gestured toward the small chamber. The room was simple—stone walls, a wooden bed with a thin mattress, and a single table with an oil lamp. It was barely a step above a bunker.
Kazel stepped inside, scanning his temporary quarters. He ran a hand along the rough stone wall before taking a deep breath. "It's far from cozy," he admitted. Then he smirked. "But it will do."
Toghon gave a respectful bow. "I appreciate that you value our customs. Unlike other sects that prioritize luxury, the Ironhide Sect is built on discipline—of the body and the mind. We believe hardship tempers the spirit."
Kazel chuckled, stretching his arms. "That much is obvious." His gaze shifted toward the window, looking out at the snow-covered peaks and the thick forests below. "However, this region is crawling with spirit beasts. How do you keep them at bay?"
Toghon folded his arms. "We use our disciples as our first line of defense. Hunting spirit beasts serves as both a duty and training. It weeds out the weak and strengthens those who remain."
Kazel nodded. "And if a high-rank beast appears?"
"Then I, along with the elders, step in," Toghon said firmly. His voice carried the weight of experience and responsibility—he had no doubt in his ability to protect his sect.
Kazel smirked. "I see." He walked toward the bed and tested its stiffness with a slight press of his hand. Then, with an amused sigh, he sat down. "Sounds exhausting."
Toghon let out a light chuckle. "It is, but we take pride in it."
Kazel leaned back, resting an arm on the table. Something about this place interested him. The Ironhide Sect had a certain rawness, a primal strength that was forged through hardship. He liked that. But he also knew that discipline alone wasn't enough to make a sect truly powerful.
"I suppose I'll be seeing it firsthand while I'm here," Kazel said.
Toghon smiled. "That, young master Kazel, you will."
"I will say it straight, Patriarch Toghon," Kazel said, his tone direct. "I'm only interested in the Green Tortoise that Batu has."
Toghon's brows lifted slightly. "The Green Tortoise?"
"Yes. I reckon it would be a great addition to my arsenal," Kazel replied casually, though there was a sharp glint in his eyes.
"Oh…" Toghon exhaled, his fingers tapping against his arm as he thought. (Right… with his ability to host multiple spirit beasts and the Shishi pair amplifying the process, integrating a Green Tortoise would be terrifyingly effective. Twofold amplification from the Shishi, and an additional defensive layer from the Tortoise… That would make him nearly untouchable.)
He sighed. "Sadly, it was our only one."
"Oh, that's a shame," Kazel said, though his tone lacked true disappointment.
Toghon studied the young master carefully. "The Green Tortoise is a Rare-ranked spirit beast. I can see why you seek it. After witnessing your rabbit and boar combination, your next logical step is reinforcing your defense. But, Kazel, I'll say this out of goodwill—won't your defense become so overwhelming that your offensive capabilities lose their edge?"
Kazel leaned back, smirking. "I know. That's why I need a better spirit beast for my offense and agility."
AOOOOOOOOO!!!!
A chilling howl echoed through the mountains, cutting through their conversation. Both Kazel and Toghon turned toward the source, their brows raised in unison.
"What is that?" Kazel asked, intrigued.
Toghon's expression darkened slightly. "Lately, we've been hearing that howl, but we're still uncertain about the spirit beast behind it. With the approaching Scale Dalgona, we couldn't afford to focus on it."
Kazel grinned. "Sounds like something worth investigating."
---
The morning sun barely peeked through the thick clouds over the Northern Peak, casting a pale light on the Ironhide Sect's training grounds. A crisp mountain breeze carried the scent of damp stone and frost, rustling through the gathered disciples as they stood in neat rows, their breath visible in the cold air. Batu stood at the front, his arms crossed, waiting for the patriarch's announcement.
Toghon stood before them, his usual stern gaze sweeping across the group. "Today, you will not be training within the sect," he began, his voice steady and authoritative. "You will be heading out to investigate the source of the howling that has plagued our nights."
Murmurs spread among the disciples, some exchanging nervous glances. It was an unspoken rule that the sect rarely ventured beyond the safer hunting grounds unless necessary. The thought of an unknown beast lurking in the mountains unsettled many.
Batu, however, remained calm. He had expected something like this. Toghon wouldn't have let the mysterious presence linger for long. But what he didn't expect was what the patriarch said next.
"Kazel of the Immortal Sect will be joining you."
A heavier silence fell over the disciples. Their heads turned almost in sync, eyes shifting toward the side of the courtyard.
There, walking toward them with effortless confidence, was Kazel. His posture was relaxed, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe, but his every step was firm, carrying an unshakable presence. He wasn't wrapped in layers of furs like most of the disciples braving the mountain chill. Instead, he walked as if the cold air and the daunting task ahead were nothing more than minor inconveniences.
Batu swallowed, his grip tightening around the strap of his training gear.
Kazel approached without a word, his blue eyes scanning the group with amusement before settling on Batu. He gave a small, knowing nod. Batu hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding back.
Then, as if he had always belonged, Kazel stepped beside him, standing at attention. The young master of the Immortal Sect had joined their ranks.
The Ironhide Sect's metal gates groaned as they were pulled open, the heavy iron grinding against the stone. A cold gust rushed in from the outside, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant pine. Beyond the gates, the rugged, frost-bitten terrain of the Northern Peak stretched out before them, the towering cliffs and jagged rocks forming an unforgiving landscape.
The gathered disciples shifted on their feet, some adjusting their weapons, others taking deep breaths as they braced for what was to come. This was no simple training exercise—everyone knew that.
Batu stepped forward, his broad frame commanding attention. "This journey will have a lot of casualties," he said, his voice steady. "Probably. But don't let that put you down. Protect the weak."
Some of the younger disciples stiffened, gripping their weapons tighter. The more seasoned ones simply nodded, already prepared for the risks.
Kazel let out a small chuckle. "Is that how you rally your underlings?"
Batu turned to him, unfazed. "They are not my underlings, young master Kazel. They are my underclassmen." His tone held no defensiveness, only firm correction.
Kazel's smirk deepened. "I see."
Toghon, who had been observing the exchange in silence, finally spoke. "Then, let's go." His voice carried the finality of a commander leading his troops into battle.
With that, the expedition moved forward, their figures disappearing into the frozen wilderness.
The expedition trudged through the thick snow, their boots sinking into the frost-covered ground with each step. The wind howled through the mountain peaks, carrying with it a sharp bite that even the seasoned disciples of the Ironhide Sect could not ignore. Their breath misted in the air, blending with the fog that curled around the trees like ghostly fingers.
Kazel, walking in the midst of the group, suddenly raised his brows before coming to a halt. He lifted a hand. "A minute, everyone."
Toghon, who had been leading, turned back. "Hmm? What is it, young master?"
Kazel's lips curled into a knowing smile. "We have guests."
The disciples instinctively tightened their grips on their weapons, eyes darting around. A few of the younger ones swallowed nervously.
"R-Really?" one of them asked.
Kazel nodded toward the dense underbrush ahead. "In the bushes. Watch out. I don't know when they'll strike."
Toghon narrowed his eyes at the thicket Kazel indicated, but he sensed nothing—no movement, no rustling, not even a presence. But he knew better than to doubt the young master of the Immortal Sect.
"We should be cautious," Kazel continued. "If they haven't attacked yet, it means they're either waiting for us to reach a certain distance… or they simply don't see us as threats yet."
Batu exhaled through his nose and nodded. "Alright, let's keep the young master's words in mind. Stay alert."
The group pressed forward, now wary, their footsteps quieter despite the crunching snow. The air was thick with tension, each moment stretching longer as they climbed higher up the mountain trail.
Then, just as predicted—
Rustling.
Soft at first, then rapid.
From the snowy underbrush, they emerged—one, then two, then four, then eight.
Wolves.
Each one covered in thick white fur, their blue eyes glowing like ice under the dim light. Their breaths came out in cold wisps as they padded forward, fangs bared, but not yet lunging. They encircled the group, their bodies blending seamlessly with the snow-covered surroundings.
The disciples tensed, weapons unsheathed.
Kazel, however, simply smiled. "Told you."