The quiet, suffocating presence of Shadow Hand Xue hung over the Serpent's Coil Hills like a drawn blade in the dark. Days blurred into weeks as the Azurewood Lin Clan performed their fragile charade of poverty. Lu Chenyuan moved through it all like a man walking a fraying rope stretched over a pit—every step deliberate, every breath calculated. Hidden beneath the surface of destitution lay their secret trove: thirty-five spirit stones and six precious pills, a cache untouched and known only to him. It was a stark contrast to their outward struggle—one misstep, and that delicate balance would shatter.
The disappearance of the Zhao merchant family lingered like smoke—proof of Xue's invisible reach. Fear now flowed through the hills like river water, traded and hoarded like a currency. Serpent's End Market, once raucous with life, had grown quiet. Conversations dulled to murmurs; glances darted like nervous birds. But where fear reigned, cracks formed. And in those cracks, slivers of opportunity glimmered—for the desperate, and for the daring.
Uncle Liu, thin as parchment and ever observant, brought the spark that lit Lu Chenyuan's mind aflame.
"Chenyuan," he murmured one evening over a dinner of spiritual millet and foraged greens, "something odd. For the past two days, the Li Clan has begun pulling back. Outer disciples, even some enforcers. Recalled from patrols, drawn back to their main compound."
Lu Chenyuan paused, chopsticks stilling midair. "All of them?"
"Most," Uncle Liu replied, voice low. "Whispers say Patriarch Li Jian received some... vital information from Shadow Hand Xue. No one knows the details, but the clan's presence in the hills is thinning. The market's abuzz, though no one dares speak too loudly."
Vital information. From Xue. A concentrated recall. Something real—or well-crafted theater. Lu Chenyuan's thoughts turned sharply to the Whispering Woods. To Shen Yue's memory of Silverthread Moss. And, just maybe, the elusive Moonpetal Leaf seeds.
"How long is this recall expected to last?" he asked, keeping his tone even.
"Few days, maybe more," Uncle Liu said. "Some claim it's a major internal sweep, sparked by something Xue uncovered."
A few days. Barely enough—but perhaps just enough. The risk was sharp-edged. If the withdrawal was a ploy, if Xue's gaze hadn't truly shifted, any movement could spell disaster.
That night, under the faint flicker of their single oil lamp, Lu Chenyuan turned to Shen Yue.
"This might be our chance," he said, quiet but firm. "The Li Clan's recall. If real, it lessens the risk of eyes on us. We could reach the Whispering Woods. Search for the Moonpetal seeds."
Shen Yue looked up, startled. The calm in her gaze gave way to something more complicated—apprehension, but also hope. "Now? You mean... we go now?"
"It's a gamble," he admitted. "But one we may not get again. Our spirit stones will only last so long. And my crude alchemy isn't a foundation for survival. The Moonpetal Leaf isn't just rare—it's transformative. You can nurture it. We just need the seeds."
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she turned her gaze toward the darkened courtyard. He could almost see the weight in her chest—the fear, the hope, the responsibility.
"What if it's a trap?" she whispered. "What if they're trying to flush out the small clans?"
"That's possible," he said. "But we won't act like prey. We'll go as foragers, nothing more. No spirit tools, no precious items. Only the barest supplies. If anyone sees us, we're nobodies gathering herbs."
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Your senses—your bond with Wood Qi—will be our best warning. If anything feels wrong, we leave. No hesitation."
She blinked, then nodded slowly. There was surprise in her expression—he had never placed so much trust in her abilities before. But that surprise soon gave way to resolve.
"Then I'm ready," she said, her voice firm. "Let's go."
They would depart before dawn. Uncle Liu, though pale with concern, would stay behind to keep up appearances. Lu Chenyuan and Shen Yue would carry only what they needed: dried millet, waterskins, a basket, a chipped utility knife. No valuables. This was not a mission of power—but of precision.
The Whispering Woods welcomed them with a cool breath and veils of shadow. Lu Chenyuan kept his Qi senses wide, alert for danger. Shen Yue moved beside him, quieter than usual, her focus narrowed to the terrain and the ebb and flow of natural energy. There was no fear in her steps—only care.
As they passed deeper into the woods, the trees thickened, ancient and immense. Each one a silent sentinel, their bark damp with moss, the air thick with the scent of wet loam and hidden life.
"The grove should be ahead," Shen Yue said after hours of quiet movement. She pointed to a narrow trail barely visible among the brush. "It's hidden well."
They slipped through the undergrowth. Here, the forest felt older, more primal. The Wood Qi was stronger, cleaner. Lu Chenyuan's Azurewood Art stirred faintly in resonance.
Shen Yue stopped at the edge of a shadowed clearing. An enormous ironwood tree stood at its center, roots gnarled like ancient claws. Clinging to its base, shimmering faintly in the dim light, was the moss.
"Silverthread Moss," Lu Chenyuan murmured. His heart beat faster. It was exactly as the scrolls had described.
Shen Yue stared, wide-eyed. "It's beautiful," she whispered.
They moved cautiously into the grove. The Wood Qi here felt... alive. Not just pure, but aware. Lu Chenyuan let his senses stretch out, scanning, hoping. Somewhere near, the Moonpetal might grow—small, crescent-leaved, hidden in shadow.
Then Shen Yue froze.
"Wait," she whispered, gripping his arm. Her voice was tight, her body rigid. "Something's wrong."
Lu Chenyuan instantly stilled. "What is it?"
"The Qi—it's disturbed. Not corrupted, but... unsettled. Like it's being watched. Or listened to." Her eyes narrowed, locking onto a dense thicket at the grove's far edge. "From there."
Lu Chenyuan's blood chilled. He felt nothing—but he had long accepted that her sensitivity now surpassed his own. He didn't question her.
Their secret journey had just crossed a threshold. What had begun as a calculated risk now felt more like a test. Not just of stealth—but of survival.