The cold was different on the fourth ridge.
Sharper. Hungrier.
Fang Xi could feel it gnawing at the seams of his robe as he trudged through the untouched snow of Zone E, the most distant patrol territory along the sect's southern border. This area wasn't meant for outer disciples. Not really.
It wasn't assigned.
It was given — as if someone had plucked his name from the merit list and pushed it quietly toward danger.
A message disguised as honor.
"You're climbing too fast."
"We'll see how long you last out here."
Fang Xi welcomed the challenge.
The forest here was older.
The trees didn't creak or shift — they loomed. Covered in ice, their bark was pale and slick like bone. The silence wasn't empty; it was full of pressure. As if something waited behind every trunk, just out of sight.
He moved slowly, one hand on the hilt of his knife, the other guiding his breath. His four Qi threads circulated calmly — synchronized, efficient.
Ahead, a frozen stream glimmered in the moonlight, cutting a narrow scar through the woods.
And across it… movement.
A blur.
Low. Fast. Too fast.
He dropped into a crouch behind a log.
The snow where the shape had landed didn't crunch. No footprints. No sound.
Fang Xi narrowed his eyes.
"Spirit beast? Or… something else?"
He waited.
Then followed.
The path led him deeper.
Past dead trees. Past frozen corpses of animals long abandoned. Past shrines carved with symbols he didn't recognize — older than the Ironwood Sect. Older than any sect.
Finally, he found it.
A cave mouth, half-buried in a rockslide. Just tall enough to crawl through.
He paused.
"This is a trap."
"But even a trap holds value."
"If I die… then I was too weak anyway."
He slid inside.
The air within was warmer — unnaturally so. No wind. No frost.
The walls glowed faintly, not from fire, but from vein-like roots that pulsed with dull red light, like blood flowing underground. The tunnel curved left, then down.
And there, at the bottom, it waited.
A small pedestal, covered in dust.
And atop it: a torn scroll. Half-burned. Half intact.
He stepped forward.
But before he could touch it —
Red eyes opened in the dark.
Not two.
Six.
From the wall, a shape peeled itself loose — thin, long, made of shadows and whispering Qi. Its mouth opened, but no sound came.
Fang Xi didn't flinch.
He knelt.
Lowered his head.
And said in a cold, quiet voice:
"Do you remember me?"
The thing paused.
A hiss escaped it — not hostile. Not friendly.
Familiar.
The creature crept forward, then circled the scroll once… before slithering back into the wall and vanishing without a trace.
Fang Xi rose.
Took the scroll.
And walked out.
Outside, the forest was still.
He didn't look back.
By the time he returned to the outer gate, night had fallen, and the fog was thicker than ever.
A junior disciple was waiting there — one of Elder Shen's errand boys.
He bowed quickly and handed over a sealed slip of parchment.
"Fang Xi. Elder Shen wishes to speak with you. Urgently."
Fang Xi took the note.
He didn't open it.
He just looked out at the trees.
Where red eyes still watched.
Where ancient things still whispered.
"So…"
"Even the forest has begun to take interest."
"Good."
"Let them all come."