Starting Out As The God of Beasts

News of a tragedy spreads fast, but news of a bloody political purge spreads like a flash of wildfire through a dry forest.

Within a single hour of Alisa dissolving back into the darkness, the gruesome discovery of Chief Strategist Ackher’s subterranean sanctuary tore through Kaelos City like a thunderclap.

The headless body of the Peak-Enlightened Stage Martial Master lay slumped in his own blood, surrounded by the slaughtered remains of four high-ranking city councillors—the very pillars of the Mayoral Council.

The public narrative, already destabilized by the catastrophic explosion in the commercial quarter, shattered entirely.

To the merchant guilds, lower-tier cultivators, and common folk of Kaelos City, the chain of events was glaringly obvious.

First, Mayor Henar had slaughtered his own palace guards and planted their corpses on Ackher’s private grounds to fabricate a charge of high treason.

Then, before the Chief Strategist could even defend his name, the Mayor had dispatched his elite assassins to butcher Ackher and his key political supporters in cold blood to cement his absolute rule.

Fear instantly turned into boiling, unadulterated outrage.

Whispers of Henar’s cruelty erupted in every tavern, alleyway, and market square.

Riots flickered along the outer districts as lower-tier cultivators and armed citizens began clashing with the city garrison.

The delicate balance of order that had sustained Kaelos City for decades was completely obliterated.

The powder keg had finally caught fire, driving pure, unbridled chaos into the hearts of every citizen.

Inside the administrative palace, the atmosphere was apocalyptic.

BOOM!

A heavy mahogany desk, carved from centuries-old ironwood, exploded into a shower of splinters as Mayor Henar’s fist smashed through it.

”DAMN HIM! DAMN HIM TO HELL!” Henar screamed, his voice hoarse, bloodshot eyes bulging from their sockets.

He lunged forward, his heavy, crimson-clad fist slamming directly into the reinforced stone wall of his private study.

The impact cracked the masonry, sending spiderweb fissures crawling up to the high ceiling.

On the polished marble floor beneath his boots lay two bloody, horrifying smears.

The two mundane palace messengers who had brought him the news of Ackher’s death had paid for the revelation with their lives.

Driven into an unhinged frenzy by sheer panic, Henar had crushed them both into horrific piles of wet meatpaste before they could even finish their sentences.

Henar paced frantically across the gore-stained floor, his breathing ragged, his hands trembling with a mixture of raw fury and creeping terror.

”Even in death... even in death, that bastard is tormenting me!” Henar spat out, wiping cold sweat from his forehead.

He hadn’t ordered Ackher’s assassination—not yet!

He had only just sent his vanguard to arrest him! Someone else had struck down the Chief Strategist, deliberately timing the slaughter to make it look like Henar was a bloodthirsty tyrant executing a silent purge.

The entire city was turning against him, calling for his head, while the fires in the commercial quarter continued to burn out of control.

Suddenly, the ambient temperature inside the study plummeted to a bone-chilling freeze.

The shadowy corners of the room flickered, and without a single sound of footsteps or a ripple of displaced air, a figure materialized directly before Henar’s desk.

It was the Elder of the Glorious Mythical Sect.

Clad in his sweeping, pale-gold robes embroidered with the ascending sun, the old man stood with his hands tucked casually into his long sleeves.

His wrinkled face was devoid of human warmth, and his ancient eyes burned with a cold, terrifying pressure that instantly pinned Henar to the spot.

Henar gasped, his heart skipping a violent beat as he stumbled back a step. ”E-Elder...!”

The Sect Elder did not glance at the shattered desk, nor did he acknowledge the crushed remains of the two messengers painting the floor.

His gaze remained locked onto Henar, heavy and suffocating like an anchor dropped onto the Mayor’s chest.

”Explain this pathetic farce, Henar,” the Elder demanded.

His voice was soft, yet it vibrated with a lethal authority that made the stone floor tremble.

Henar swallowed hard, his throat bone-dry as he frantically dropped to one knee, bowing his head so low his forehead nearly touched the blood-stained floorboards.

”Elder! I beg for your understanding!” Henar stammered, his voice quivering with desperate panic.

”Kaelos City... it has been thrown into complete disarray! A hidden hand is at work! Someone is orchestrating these killings—the explosion, the murdered guards, and now Ackher! Someone is deliberately framing me to spark an uprising!”

The Sect Elder’s brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of cold disdain passing over his ancient features.

”Do you truly believe I care for your local political squabbles, Henar?” the Elder asked coldly.

He stepped forward, his leather boot stepping directly over a pool of dark blood without a second thought.

”The Glorious Mythical Sect does not care who sits in this office,” the Elder continued, his voice dripping with icy indifference.

”We do not care who you kill, how many of your citizens burn in the streets, or how many of your councillors lose their heads. We care only for the goods.

The shipment of the Crimson-Spotted Leopard-Kin and Grey Falcon-Kin must proceed without a single delay.”

The Elder paused, leaning down slightly so his suffocating pressure pressed directly onto the back of Henar’s neck, threatening to snap his spine.

”Listen to me carefully, Henar. You have two days,” the Elder declared coldly. ”Suppress these pathetic rumors. Quell the riots in your streets.

Control this chaotic circus before it interferes with our transport. If you fail to stabilize this city within two days... I will step in and make a move directly.

And if I am forced to act... Kaelos City will no longer require a Mayor.”

Cold sweat poured down Henar’s neck like rain.

The threat was crystal clear.

If the Sect Elder acted personally, Henar—and every living soul in Kaelos City—would be erased to clear the board.

Henar gulped heavily, forcing himself to swallow his terror as he pressed his face against the floor.

”I... I understand, Elder! I will restore dominance immediately! The garrison will crush the riots by nightfall! The shipment will remain secure!”

”See that it does,” the Elder replied dryly.

Before Henar could raise his head, the pale-gold aura flickered, and the Sect Elder vanished into thin air, leaving behind only the lingering, sub-zero chill in the air.

Meanwhile, perched silently high above the study on the ornamental golden chandelier.

A tiny, glowing golden insect—a harmless Sun-fly—remained perfectly still.

Its miniature compound eyes shimmered with a subtle, mesmerizing golden-crimson hue as it recorded every single word, every movement, and every ripple of spiritual energy that had passed between the Mayor and the Sect Elder.

Miles away, sitting atop a quiet roof overlooking the burning city, Roy slowly opened his eyes.

A brilliant, divine smile bloomed across his handsome wolf-man features, his golden-crimson eyes glowing with absolute triumph.

”Gotcha,” Roy whispered into the wind, his deep voice carrying a melodious, predatory satisfaction.

He had deliberately orchestrated the chaotic dominoes—the explosion, the fake suicide, the prison breach, and Alisa’s targeted execution of Ackher and his councillor supporters.

For one single, ultimate goal: to force the hidden elder of the Glorious Mythical Sect out into the open.

Now, the Elder’s identity, his cultivation base, and his absolute reliance on the slave shipment were completely exposed to Roy’s divine consciousness.

Roy stood up, his crimson-and-gold battle robes fluttering in the hot draft of the distant inferno as he gazed down at the crumbling city.

”The board is set... the Elder has laid his deadline,” Roy murmured softly, a wicked, cold smirk spreading across his lips.

”Now... let us see how your little sect survives when the goods turn into your executioners.”