Meanwhile, outside the Beast Mountain, two elders of the Supreme Beast Sect stood atop a high viewing platform, their robes fluttering in the wind as they observed the distant commotion.
"It appears someone has formed a contract with that Flood Dragon," one of the elders said, his voice trembling with barely restrained excitement.
The other elder nodded, eyes gleaming with fervor. "Mhm. Heaven truly has eyes. With a talent like this,"…our Supreme Beast Sect will rise to new heights. No one will dare to challenge our authority in the Eastern Region of the Central Continent!"
The joy in their expressions was unmistakable.
"We must keep an eye on that child," the first elder continued. "If he truly subdued a Nascent Stage Flood Dragon, he must be brought into the Inner Sect immediately—no, he deserves to be a Core Disciple from the start!"
"Indeed," the second elder agreed, stroking his beard. "If he continues on this path and proves himself in the future… he may even be worthy of the title of Holy Son."
Their excited chatter echoed across the platform.
Hidden within the crowd of disciples, Avinash stood silently, his expression cold and unreadable. His sharp eyes locked onto Ye Chen in the distance.
"Tch... so this is the terrifying luck of a true Son of Heaven," he muttered, his voice laced with disdain. "Beaten half to death, and yet he tames a Flood Dragon as if fate itself supporting him."
His fists clenched unconsciously, knuckles whitening.
"I can't waste any more time. I need to find the Ice Empress—if she's here at all. And if not…"
His eyes narrowed into slits, a dark glint flickering within.
"Then I'll leave before the portals open… before that man begins his plan."
His gaze shifted back toward Ye Chen, now surrounded by admirers and elders.
"The tomb... when it opens, that will be the perfect moment. Let's see how far your luck takes you."
Just then, a deep dong—dong rang through the mountain range as a grand bell tolled, signaling the end of the assignment.
Disciples who had successfully formed a beast contract began making their way back toward the entrance. Avinash turned as well, though his pace was slower than the others. His eyes occasionally swept the surroundings as he waited for his partner.
Then—thud!
A loud flap of wings echoed, and a plump white duck crash-landed beside him with surprising grace for its size.
"Human, is the assignment already over?" the duck asked cheerfully, waddling in a circle like an overgrown child, giggling with glee.
Avinash let out a tired sigh. "Yeah," he replied lazily—until his nose twitched.
A faint, sweet scent lingered in the air.
He turned to the duck suspiciously, his gaze narrowing.
"You gluttonous idiot... don't tell me—did you find spiritual plants and eat them all by yourself?" His voice carried a hint of disbelief and exasperation.
The fat duck froze, feathers fluffing up in panic. "N-no! Of course not!" it stammered, flapping its wings nervously. "How could there be spiritual herbs in such a barren place? You must be imagining things!"
But as it spoke, it kept glancing at its own belly, its round body visibly jiggling as it shook its head like a child who had been caught red-handed.
Avinash squinted at him.
"...I swear, if I find out you've been hoarding spirit herbs again, I'm roasting you next time."
The duck gave a loud quack and puffed up indignantly, but quickly waddled behind Avinash, muttering to itself.
As Avinash and the fat duck continued toward the entrance, more and more disciples emerged from the depths of the Beast Mountain, each accompanied by their newly contracted beast. Some rode on majestic spirit beasts, while others walked side by side with smaller creatures. The path soon grew crowded as they all moved in the same direction—toward the gathering platform.
Once outside, they formed an orderly queue, following the sect's instructions. The elders hovered above the platform, observing the disciples with discerning eyes, taking note of the contracts formed during the trial.
Suddenly, a deafening roar erupted from deep within the Beast Mountain.
The air trembled.
A moment later, a massive tiger burst through the treeline. Its fur was striped with golden patterns, and its aura was wild and overbearing, exuding the power of a peak foundation realm. The sheer pressure caused several disciples to stumble back in fear, some even gasping aloud.
But then, their eyes widened in disbelief.
Upon the tiger's back sat a young man in lavish robes, his posture straight and proud, his expression calm yet arrogant—as if the world itself lay beneath his feet.
It was none other than Young Master Ming of Norway City.
He sat on the tiger as though it were a throne, his gaze sweeping across the gathered disciples with cold indifference.
"Hmph… If I run into Ye Chen again," Ming sneered inwardly, his fingers tightening slightly on the tiger's fur, "I'll show him what true hell feels like."
With a practiced smile, he dismounted and walked toward the platform, cupping his fists respectfully toward the elders.
"Greetings, Elders," he said politely.
The elders returned a faint nod but said nothing in return. Their expressions remained composed, neither surprised nor impressed.
To them, this display was nothing more than a ripple in a vast ocean.
Young Master Ming's tiger was indeed powerful, but their minds were elsewhere—focused on the one who had tamed a Nascent Stage Flood Dragon.
Their silence was not out of disrespect—but anticipation.
They were waiting for that one genius.
The one who had truly shaken the Beast Mountain today.
Kaaa—!
A sharp, ear-piercing cry suddenly tore through the sky, followed by an overwhelming burst of air pressure that rolled across the platform like a crashing wave.
Everyone—disciples and elders alike—instinctively looked up.
High above the Beast Mountain, a golden streak cut through the clouds. A majestic eagle soared across the sky, its wings glittering with radiant light. Its flight was sharp, swift, and elegant—its very presence commanding awe.
Atop the eagle stood a graceful figure, her long robes fluttering in the wind like celestial silk.
Princess Smriti.
Her expression was serene, yet distant, and her bearing carried the calm pride of royalty. The golden eagle beneath her seemed to respond to her aura, circling once above the platform before landing smoothly in front of the queue.
The disciples couldn't help but step aside in awe, creating a path without a word.
With composed steps, Princess Smriti dismounted and approached the elders, offering a respectful bow. "Disciple Smriti greets the elders."
This time, the elders' expressions changed.
Their eyes softened slightly, and one of them even allowed a small smile. They exchanged pleased glances before nodding in return.
"Well done, child."
Though their words were few, the admiration in their tone was clear. The beast she had tamed—a Sky Golden Eagle—was no ordinary spirit bird. Known for its incredible speed, it could rival even a Nascent Soul stage cultivator in flight. It was rare, noble, and tremendously difficult to tame.
To see such a beast among the new disciples was a pleasant surprise.
'The more geniuses we gather… the brighter the future of the Supreme Beast Sect,' one of the elders thought to himself.
Meanwhile, at the side of the crowd, Young Master Ming's gaze was locked onto Smriti.
His earlier arrogance faded, replaced by a dazed obsession. His mouth was slightly open, and his expression looked as though he had just witnessed a goddess descend from the heavens.
"So beautiful… she's like a divine maiden," he muttered under his breath, not even realizing the tiger beside him was growling in annoyance.
Princess Smriti, however, paid him no mind. Her eyes didn't linger on anyone—not even Ye Chen, not even Avinash—as she quietly took her place in the queue, standing proud and alone.