The Terras Forest was silent in the snowy night, most of the wild beasts hiding in their respective dens, away from the bone-chilling wind. Other than the sounds of trees rustling in the cold wind, there were only the occasional strange sounds from unknown creatures.
Some time later, Yang Ling, who had cleared his mind, suddenly heard a faint roar. He caught the minute, metallic stench of blood in the cold air.
Unsure of the situation, Yang Ling opened his eyes and rushed toward the direction of the blood, guarded by a team of Horned Bee Beasts. At a full sprint, he disappeared deep into the forest in the blink of an eye.
The icy wind howled through branches piled with falling snow. A streak of light appeared on the horizon. The night had not yet faded, but the sun was about to rise. It was the darkest time before dawn, when all living creatures slept. Yang Ling could not think of a single Magical Beast that would be hunting at that time.