Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Tiger's Roar in the Mountain Forest

In the chill of the mountain forest night, the two of them found a cave, lit a small bonfire, and lay down to sleep in their clothes.

A sudden tiger's roar shattered the silence of the distant mountains, rumbling across the empty, snow-blanketed landscape like muffled thunder.

"Wake up, Songzi! We've got a job!" Lin Feng yanked Du Songzi to his feet, grabbing his bundle and his pear-blossom spear in the same motion.

"What job, boss?" Du Songzi, still groggy, rubbed his eyes, fumbled for his weapons, and hurried after him.

Outside the cave, Lin Feng tilted his head to listen, then pointed off into the dark. "That way! Some kind of fierce beast, maybe even a demon-beast—be careful!"

Du Songzi instantly snapped to attention, all sleep gone, and followed Lin Feng at a run up the slope to the left.

A blast of fierce wind slammed into them; both squeezed their eyes shut and shielded their faces with their hands, as whirling snowflakes coated their heads and cheeks.

On the hillside, a silver-white figure threw back its head and let out a soul-shaking cry. A wave of power radiated from that spot, making the mountain winds suddenly wild and savage, slicing through the trees with a bitter chill. Black clouds swept across the sky; startled birds, eyes wide and shining, shrieked as they scattered in panic.

"Heavens! It's a Snowstone White Tiger!" Du Songzi's throat went dry, his gaze locked on the massive beast.

Dragons summon clouds, tigers command the wind—just a single roar from this Snowstone White Tiger was enough to stir the elements, sending snow swirling over the mountains, the beast exuding a kingly presence. Its enormous body, thirty meters long, crackled with overwhelming might, so daunting that a single glance would rob a man of any will to resist.

Such majesty! Such dominance! The white tiger's eyes gleamed fiercely as it fixed its cold gaze on the distant human figures, then threw back its head and roared again.

"Run, boss! Run!" Du Songzi cried out in despair.

Run? Could they possibly escape? In the annals of mountain demon-beasts, the Snowstone White Tiger was recorded only by image and name, the details left blank—if even the elders who compiled those strange tomes never understood it, how could they hope to survive?

"Songzi, I'll draw it off! Take Blackmane and run!" Lin Feng barked, then shot off to the left at lightning speed.

With a furious roar, the Snowstone White Tiger leapt hundreds of meters in a flash!

"It's over! Linzi, I swear I'll avenge you!" Du Songzi steeled himself and fled back the way they'd come.

As Lin Feng sprinted, a gale of force roared from behind, so fierce it felt like it would crush his lungs. Terror seized him. "This is the end!"

A massive black shadow blotted out all light, and an unstoppable force crashed down from above. Lin Feng groaned, tumbling seven or eight times across the snow, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

The monstrous beast landed silently, striding with a strange elegance as it approached Lin Feng, eyes blood-red.

"This is it," he thought despairingly. "Never imagined I'd end up as beast fodder..."

The tiger halted before him, fixing him with enormous, searching eyes, its gaze a strange mix of murderous intent and something unfathomable. Slowly, it raised one massive paw.

What does one see at the moment of death? In Lin Feng's vision, aside from the huge paw looming above, a pink-clad figure flickered before his eyes—standing in the wind, lips curved in a faint smile, "Foolish boy..."

"Caiyi..." he murmured, eyes drifting shut.

The white tiger threw back its head and let out a mournful, bone-rattling roar that made the clouds tremble. It stared at him a moment longer, then with a flash, vanished into the darkness.

"That was close! What just happened?" Shaking, Lin Feng loosened his clenched fists and lay on the snow, staring up at the night sky, heart pounding—proof that he was still alive.

Night deepened. The pear-blossom spear, blending with the snow and sky, lay quietly beside its master.

Staggering to his feet, Lin Feng brushed off the snow as the wild wind carried distant echoes of tiger roars and dragon cries. Suddenly he froze, hit by a bolt of realization.

"I've found the key!" A sharp light flashed in his eyes as excitement surged through him.

"The white tiger doesn't move, yet the wind obeys its command. Its mere presence shakes the soul. Isn't that exactly like the Tyrant's Force? To kill, you must first break the enemy's spirit, crush them with your aura—what couldn't be achieved with such power?" His hand trembled as he gripped his spear, then, with a shout, he ran back the way he'd come.

Outside the cave, Du Songzi was sobbing beside Blackmane when the wolf cub at his feet suddenly yipped and bounded into the snow. He turned, eyes widening.

"Linzi! You're alive!" Overjoyed, Du Songzi rushed forward, only for Lin Feng to clap his shoulder and say sternly, "Come on! Back to the cave!"

Du Songzi glanced nervously back at the darkness before following Lin Feng inside.

"Songzi, surviving that—heaven truly has eyes. I say we skip the winter hunt. All the demon-beasts are on the move; it's simply courting death. Better to use this chance to hone our skills, break through to the late Qi-Refining stage. If we place well in next year's outer sect tournament, that's worth far more than some petty profit." Lin Feng had made up his mind and hoped Du Songzi would heed his advice. If they both made it into the inner sect, all the better.

"I'll do as you say, boss. Scared me half to death—never seen a beast that huge. This hunt is no joke." Du Songzi let out a long breath, wiping cold sweat from his brow.

Lin Feng nodded. "Nangong Ke and his lot went even farther in. I worry for them. This Snowstone White Tiger is even more terrifying than the Ice Dragon-Beast I saw—hard to imagine what other horrors lurk in these wilds."

Neither slept a wink that night; the fire died out, and they meditated until dawn before fleeing back to Tianmen Peak without a backward glance.

Tyrant's Force—how could it bear such a name without true dominance? I was a fool not to see it, Lin Feng thought, standing in Snakevine Valley, replaying in his mind the aura the white tiger had unleashed. If a man could wield such presence, a single punch could split mountains and sever rivers—no longer a mere dream.

Closing his eyes, he attuned himself to his surroundings, let his spirit merge with the world, gathered all the momentum he could muster, then opened his eyes and struck out with a fist.

The Tyrant's Force technique demanded not only mastery of its forms but, above all, remarkable insight. Without true dominance, even the first step was impossible, no matter how thoroughly one drilled the basics.

It took him half a month to truly grasp the first form—not just refining his perception, but purifying his inner energy and strengthening his body to the core.

With a cry, Lin Feng snapped open his eyes beneath the banyan tree, every muscle and bone tensed, force bursting from his body, his gaze fierce as lightning—a single punch rocketed forth!

Boom—a thunderclap echoed as his fist cut through the air, a trail of afterimages flickering in its wake, smashing into the cliff ten meters away, sending shards of stone flying.

Unrivaled beneath the heavens! The first form of the Tyrant's Force!

"At last, I've glimpsed its true power. My cultivation isn't high enough yet, but if my foundation were as strong as Feng Yiyuan's, this whole valley might be filled with rubble." Lin Feng looked at his hand and sighed inwardly.

The Tyrant's Manual, in this winter, revealed a hint of its legendary power in the quiet of Snakevine Valley, granting Lin Feng the most tranquil days he had ever known.

Winter faded. Spring came; the mountains donned their green shroud, while gentle rains fell for over a month. Most disciples shut themselves away to train—and Lin Feng was among them.

In cultivation, time loses all meaning—only through diligence is mastery achieved. Every night he practiced the Everlasting Life Technique without fail. On this rare clear evening, with a full moon and clear stars, he sat in meditation at his door.

After six cycles of breathing, his inner energy surged, ready to burst forth. He finished his practice, feeling invigorated, and looked up at the sky with a sigh. "Soon, perhaps within a month, I'll be able to summon and withdraw my energy at will. That will likely be the threshold."

Moving from mid-stage to late-stage Qi-Refining, there must be a bottleneck, though he had no experience with such things.

"Spring is here. Senior Sister Helian will be back soon—I'll ask her advice then." With that thought, he turned—only to freeze in place.

Blackmane, who usually cared only for food and drink, was now mimicking his meditation: hind legs folded, forepaws planted, long snout rising and falling as it drew breath beneath the moon.