Scent does not know lies.
People craft expressions, change their voices, and even disguise their gait to deceive.
But scent alone cannot be hidden.
Blood smells of blood, and fear smells of fear.
Anger is bitter, sorrow is sour, and lies are cold.
Scent Wolf had lived his entire life by his nose.
From the day he accepted the spirit of a wolf, the Central Plains became a world written not in sound and light, but in the language of scent and the nose.
When the wind blew, he could read a battlefield dozens of li away, and when he stepped on the earth, he could see footprints from two days ago.
The nose was the eyes.
The nose was the truth.
Walking among the pine trees that stretched along both sides of the mountain path, Scent Wolf constantly flared his nostrils.
On the surface, he was merely a common young man walking a mountain path, but the nose beneath his yellowish pupils was relentlessly reading the world.
Blood.
The scent of blood, old but strong.
It was not one or two people.
Dozens, no. The blood of at least a hundred people was tangled in the wind.
The scent of medicinal herbs was also detected.
Sanqi and Bletilla, used to stop bleeding.
Traces of hastily administered first aid remained in the scent.
'A group of injured people passed through this path.'
Over a hundred men.
Seeing that the depth and type of wounds varied, it was not a uniform torture or raid.
The remnants of a unit pushed back from the battlefield.
They had to be the defeated soldiers of the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect.
Scent Wolf did not pay much attention to this scent, as it was unrelated to his original mission.
The remnant forces of the Vast Heaven Sect were destined to achieve Buddhahood eventually, no matter where they fled.
However.
He had to remember that there was something at the destination of the defeated soldiers.
The scent of water.
A lake.
Deep in the mountain, there was a rather large body of water.
Around it were the smells of cooking smoke, of forging metal, of carving wood.
It was a place where people lived together.
Two Scent Followers were silently following behind him.
Words were unnecessary between the three of them.
If Scent Wolf changed direction, they followed, and if Scent Wolf stopped, they stopped.
"South."
One word.
The two Scent Followers nodded simultaneously.
Scent Wolf quickened his pace but did not stop using his nose.
There was still no trace of the Patrol Sword Corps.
The scent that had been cut off at a point two hundred li north of the River Capital had not returned, even on this mountain.
The scene where thirty-one living beings had evaporated.
A place with no corpses, no smell of blood, and no lingering scent of metal.
The Great Venerate himself had given the order.
To read again from the place where the scent was cut off.
Scent Wolf read and read again.
He read the wind and the earth, he read and reread even the faint lingering scents on the moss and leaves.
After tracking for ten days like this, he had come to this mountain.
The direction the Patrol Sword Corps was heading.
The River Capital.
South, not far from the River Capital, the scent of people gathered on this mountain.
Perhaps there might be a clue here.
It was then.
Scent Wolf's feet stopped.
The tip of his nose twitched.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
His brow furrowed.
Strange... It was about halfway up the mountain.
A section where the scent of the defeated soldiers' blood still lingered strongly.
A place where the smells of water and smoke rose on the wind.
Amidst all those scents, there was an empty space.
A place with no scent.
As if someone had emptied the air itself, a circular domain was punching a hole in the map of scents.
'What is this…?'
A shiver ran down Scent Wolf's spine.
It was not a human's goosebumps.
It was the kind of thrill a wolf feels when it steps into the territory of a larger predator, the hair on the back of its neck standing on end.
Is it a formation?
No. Formations have a scent.
When Qi moves, a lingering scent of Qi is always left behind.
The formation of the Mountain Formation Division smells like a mixture of metal and earth, and the formation of the Thunder Formation Division has a fishy smell like air scorched by lightning.
No matter the formation, as long as it operates with Qi, it cannot be free from scent.
But this was different.
It was not that there was 'no' scent, but that the scent itself was being 'erased'.
At the boundary line of that area, all information was cut off.
It was not just the scent.
Even the flow of the wind was slightly refracted around it.
The air flowed slightly around it, like a stream with an invisible rock in it.
And that area was now moving.
This way.
Scent Wolf raised his right hand.
The two Scent Followers froze instantly.
"Re—."
Before that, one syllable could even finish.
Swish-.
The sound came from behind.
No. There was not even a sound.
Only the sensation of the air being split brushed against the hair on his back.
Thud.
One Scent Follower was slammed into a tree without a scream.
His body bounced once, then went limp.
He had not lost consciousness; his acupoints had been pressed before he could pass out.
Shwwiik-.
The moment the second Scent Follower reflexively tried to draw his sword, several strands of a Formation Qi Rope shot out from the empty air and wrapped around his limbs.
Restraint.
The threads of the formation, tightening tautly like metal rings, instantly forced his body to the ground.
Precise and merciless suppression.
It was the art of a Formation Master.
Scent Wolf lowered his body.
In a stance almost on all fours, he reflexively leaped backward.
The speed of a wolf that had learned martial arts.
The instinct of a beast erupted from a human body.
Papat-!
His nails momentarily lengthened, grabbing a branch to change his trajectory, and with a chain of lightness skills, his toes stepped on trunks, consecutively crossing three trees.
But.
The moment he kicked off the third tree to land.
The air changed.
Density.
The moment his feet touched the ground, what washed over his entire body was the resistance of the air.
His lungs grew heavy as if he had dived into water, and an invisible pressure settled evenly on his skin.
And.
His nose died.
His sense of smell, which until a moment ago could penetrate dozens of li, was completely cut off.
The scent of the wind, the scent of the grass, the scent of the earth, he could not even smell his own body odor.
'…!'
The world flattened and crumpled.
Depth, direction, distance.
Without his nose, he could read nothing.
The sense he had relied on his entire life had been torn out by the roots.
This was like blindness.
His heart pounded.
It was the first time since accepting the energy of the Path of Beasts that he felt such pure, bone-deep fear.
A beast knows.
When trapped in a predator's territory, one must first identify the enemy's location before trying to escape.
Scent Wolf raised his head.
His sight was alive.
His hearing, too.
But they were only half of what they should be.
In that half-complete vision, a man stood.
About ten paces ahead.
With a sword slung over his shoulder.
As naturally as if he had been there from the beginning.
A young man in his mid-twenties.
A face with a blank expression, devoid of any discernible emotion.
And from this man.
Came no scent at all.
As if he could not have smelled him even if his nose had been working.
There was no flow of Qi.
No ripple of internal energy, no heat of blood and qi, not even the lingering scent of life that every living human must exude.
Nothingness.
The nothingness of scent.
"…"
Scent Wolf's canines erupted through his gums.
His nails grew to their full length.
The form of a beast seeping out from within the human frame, a half-transformation unique to an embodiment of the Path of Beasts.
However, within this strange Qi Field, even the operation of Qi within his body was being disturbed.
When the energy of the Path of Beasts tried to extend, an invisible barrier suppressed it in real-time.
The transformation faltered.
Like trying to strike a water-soaked flint.
The man opened his mouth.
"This mountain is the territory of our Hero's Sect. For now, that is."
The first words were cold, but they soon transformed into a soft tone.
A tone that made it impossible to gauge his thoughts.
"An uninvited guest has come in the night, so as the master, I came out to see—."
The man's sword on his shoulder did not stir.
He had not yet lowered it.
It was as if he had not yet drawn it.
"A few dogs are running rampant, I see?"
But Scent Wolf knew.
This man was dangerous.
So dangerous that it was impossible to even gauge.
A scentless one is the most fearsome enemy for a wolf.
Because they cannot be read.
Because their next move cannot be predicted.
Rustle.
The sound of a fan opening was heard from behind him.
"You've arrived, guest."
A leisurely and contemplative voice.
Not the one who had knocked out the Scent Follower, but another person.
To his left, True Qi spread across the ground like a spiderweb.
True Qi of the same nature that had bound the Scent Follower's limbs earlier.
But its density was five times greater.
It was not at the level of branches to trap in an empty space, but at a level to erect a wall.
"Ah, are these the uninvited bastards? They weren't even human cubs."
This was the same direct and high-pitched voice as before.
It was three sides.
Front.
The scentless man.
Left.
The Formation Master.
Rear.
The man with the fan.
There was no escape route.
Scent Wolf did not run.
A cornered wolf bares its fangs.
That is the etiquette of a beast.
He planted his four limbs on the ground, lowering his stance until he was almost touching the earth.
A shift in center of gravity impossible for a human.
A thin breath escaped between his fangs.
The man tilted his head slightly.
"Certainly not human."
Scent Wolf's pupils contracted.
It was this Scent Wolf who tried to read, but it was also this Scent Wolf who was read.
And he read him perfectly, even without a nose.
Without scent or Qi Sense, this man read the energy of the Path of Beasts dwelling within his body.
This distorting field was not a simple defense.
It was also for detection.
A mirror that revealed the essence of everything that entered its domain.
Just as a beast that has fallen into water cannot hide the ripples no matter how it struggles, does even hidden energy reveal itself on its own within this man's field?
The corners of the man's mouth lifted slightly.
"This worked out well."
A single thread of a smile that bloomed from a blank expression.
There was no warmth.
It was a smile closer to biting frost than sunshine.
"I had a few things to ask."
Scent Wolf's mind raced.
The field spreading from under this man's feet.
That was the cause that killed his nose, suppressed his Qi, and even refracted the flow of the wind.
This was not internal energy or a formation, but a power of a completely different dimension.
If someone possessing such a thing was at the point two hundred li north of the River Capital.
Could it be that the thirty-one members of the Patrol Sword Corps disappeared without a trace….
The absence of corpses.
The absence of the smell of blood.
Perhaps no traces could be left near this man in the first place.
Scent Wolf's yellow eyes narrowed as if they would tear.
'…Did this man devour the Patrol Sword Corps, and that Sang Gwanhwi?'
It was not a certainty.
Just an instinct.
Because if this man were at the place where the scent was cut off, everything would fall into place.
Scent Wolf's nose had never been wrong in his entire life.
Where there is no scent, there is always one who erased the scent.
And now, the man standing right before his eyes was the most likely candidate.
I must report to the Great Venerate.
I must survive.
The remaining energy of the Path of Beasts in Scent Wolf's entire body gathered into one.
The man's strange field was suppressing it, but for a single moment, it would not be able to suppress the explosive burst that a beast unleashes when it stakes its life.
I will bet everything on this one move.
Scent Wolf kicked off the ground.
Not in one of the three directions, but in the fourth.
Up.
Kwaat-!
Branches shattered as Scent Wolf's figure shot up vertically.
It was not a human's lightness skill.
It was the leap of a tree-climbing beast.
Kaang!
A sword strike came up.
The man's sword.
A horizontal slash inserted without sound or wind brushed past Scent Wolf's left side.
It was the back of the blade, not the edge, but the sensation of a couple of ribs cracking pierced his entire body.
'…Kkht!'
He gritted his teeth.
He did not stop.
He grabbed a branch, bent his trajectory, and made a second leap.
A third leap.
He could feel the sensation of breaking through the strange boundary.
At the tip of his nose, very faintly, the scent of pine began to return.
Just a little more.
Rustle.
The sound of the fan.
The fan of the person behind him opened in mid-air, and the atmosphere suddenly distorted.
Lightning.
Metallic sparks flew in the air.
Static electricity twisted and contorted all the muscles in his body.
'…Kk-eut!'
His muscles contracted sharply, and his joints locked.
His nerves misfired, and his limbs convulsed uncontrollably.
A Field-type Formation.
The trajectory of his leap collapsed.
The hand that was about to grab a branch clutched at empty air, and Scent Wolf's body plummeted toward the earth.
Kuuung-.
His back hit the ground first.
When his vision momentarily went white and then returned, he barely managed to open his eyes.
The man's sword was at his throat.
One chi.
A distance of exactly one chi.
There was no cold energy felt from the tip of the sword.
This man's sword carried neither killing intent nor Qi.
Only the physical property of steel was coldly touching the skin of his throat.
That was somehow even more terrifying.
"You don't have to answer."
The man's voice came from above.
"However."
The sword moved a fraction closer.
"You have to forget everything you smelled on this mountain before you leave. Isn't that right?"
Forget.
Scent Wolf did not answer.
A beast does not feign submission.
But his narrowed yellow pupils were clearly engraving the man's face.
This face.
The face of this scentless man.
I will convey it to the Great Venerate.
Whether alive or dead.
It was then.
The ground rumbled.
A faint but regular vibration.
The sound of many feet stepping on the ground in unison.
It was a disciplined movement, like an army on the march.
Scent Wolf's nose was still dead.
Within this man's field, he could smell nothing.
But his ears were alive.
A wolf's hearing could read the direction and scale of the vibration.
The eastern foot of the mountain.
Not dozens.
Over a hundred people were climbing the mountain.
And.
Na—mu—A—mi—ta—bul.
The sound of low, deep chanting, rising on the wind.
Scent Wolf's eyes widened.
There was no way he did not know this chant.
Had he not spent his entire life prostrated beneath that chant?
The Rakshasa Monk Corps.
It was the combat unit that had been wiping out the remnant factions of the Vast Heaven Sect under the command of the Blood Rakshasa.
Not some small prayer group, but actual combat troops.
They had followed the scent of the defeated soldiers' blood all the way here.
A force numbering over several hundred was pushing up this mountain.
The man's head turned to the east.
It was only for an instant, but Scent Wolf saw it.
His blank expression did not break.
But the sword resting on his shoulder moved very slightly, truly minutely.
"It's noisy."
The man with the fan muttered from behind.
"Sect Leader."
The woman on the left called out to the man.
For the first time, her voice was tinged with a bit of tension.
"They've come. Quite a lot of them."
That man, Dong Bongsu, did not look back.
The sword slowly retreated from Scent Wolf's throat.
One chi became one ja, and one ja became one pace.
Even in that moment, Scent Wolf did not run.
Because there was no longer a need to run.
Na—mu—A—mi—ta—bul.
The chanting was getting closer.
The song of a greatly merciful and compassionate sword, where hundreds of voices overlapped as one.
Dong Bongsu lowered the sword from his shoulder and held it in his right hand.
It was the first time.
"It's going to be an interesting night."
At those words, Scent Wolf was certain.
…That even in the face of the great army of the Dark Rakshasa Way, he was not afraid, but enjoying it.
A chill ran down Scent Wolf's spine.
What a beast fears most is not a predator stronger than itself.
It is the beast that hunts even when its belly is full.
And.
This man was such a beast.
A monster... whose depth he could never smell.