The transition from the tamed, predictable danger of Wu Tan City to the primal, untamed wilderness of the Demonic Beast Mountain Range was immediate and absolute. The moment the city gates vanished behind us, we stepped into a different world. The air itself was different—thicker, wetter, and saturated with the complex, layered scents of damp earth, strange, flowering mosses, and the ever-present, musky odor of wild beasts. The world was louder here, a constant, living symphony of insectile chirps, distant avian calls, and the unnerving rustle of unseen things moving through the dense, shadowed undergrowth.
This new reality also brought out a new, more potent flavor of our bickering. It was no longer the idle banter of our pavilion but the high-stakes squabbling of two people whose survival depended on each other completely.
"Why," I hissed, carefully extricating my cloak from a thorny vine for the third time in ten minutes, "are we crawling through the mud? We're moving at a snail's pace."
"Because," Ming hissed back, his voice a theatrical whisper as he crouched behind a moss-covered log, "we are hunting, Qing-er. Hunting requires stealth. Finesse. Becoming one with the environment."
"You could literally walk up to our targets and ask them to politely fall on your sword, and they couldn't touch you," I pointed out, my patience wearing thin. "Your obsession with playing 'master hunter' is slowing us down."
"My Infinity protects me," he retorted, gesturing to me with a thumb. "It does not, however, protect my very squishy, very boop-able partner, who I would rather not have to scrape off the fangs of a Shadow Cat. Besides, there are five of them. This is a tactical operation, not a bar fight. Now please, for the love of all that is holy, stop stepping on every dry leaf in the entire mountain range."
His Six Eyes had spotted them an hour ago: a pack of five Tier 1 Shadow Cats, sleek, black-furred predators known for their speed and coordinated attacks. They were the perfect test of our teamwork against a more agile, intelligent foe. After another twenty minutes of my meticulous navigation and his loud, exaggerated sighs, we were in position.
The five beasts were lounging in a small, sun-dappled clearing ahead, their black coats making them look like pools of living shadow. My original, carefully crafted plan of using diversions and pincer movements was immediately discarded by Ming.
"New plan," he whispered, a predatory grin on his face. "It's called 'I'll be the lightning, you be the thunder'."
Before I could protest, he was gone. He moved with a speed that was simply inhuman, a black-clad blur that shot from the treeline into the center of the clearing. The Shadow Cats, startled, hissed and arched their backs, their yellow eyes glowing with feral rage.
One of them lunged at him, claws extended. Ming didn't even raise his sword. He simply stood there as the cat's attack met the invisible wall of his Infinity, its claws scraping harmlessly a hand's breadth from his chest. The other four cats, seeing this, hesitated, their animal instincts screaming that the creature before them was fundamentally wrong.
"Thunder, Qing-er! Any time now!" Ming shouted, standing amidst the confused predators as if he were taking a stroll in a park.
I gritted my teeth and stepped out from our hiding place. His recklessness was infuriating, but he had given me the perfect opening. All five beasts were completely focused on him. I was the unseen threat.
I channeled my Dou Qi, a small, crackling orb of Yang Guifei's blue flame appearing in my palm. I launched it not at a cat, but at a low-hanging branch laden with dry leaves just above two of them. The branch instantly ignited, showering the two beasts in a cascade of smoke and embers. They shrieked and leaped back, their fur singed, their attention now split between the impossible man in front of them and the fiery threat from the side.
The pack's coordination was broken. This was the chaos Ming had wanted.
He became a whirlwind of black cloth and flashing steel. He flowed between the beasts, his sword moving in precise, economical arcs. He wasn't overwhelmingly strong, but his speed and reflexes were supernatural. He would dodge a claw swipe by a hair's breadth, pivot, and land a shallow but irritating cut on a cat's flank, forcing it back. He wasn't trying to kill them all at once; he was herding them, controlling the battlefield, using his invulnerability to force them into predictable patterns.
My role was control and support. I stayed on the periphery, a constant nuisance. I used small, bright flashes of fire to momentarily blind a cat that was about to pounce on Ming from behind. When one of the larger ones broke from the main fray and charged me, I summoned my Minor Protective Sutra, the golden shield materializing just in time to absorb the pounce, shattering but leaving me unharmed.
"I thought you had it handled!" I yelled, stumbling back.
"I do!" he yelled back, spinning to kick another cat away. "I'm just keeping you involved so you don't get bored!"
The fight was a messy, chaotic, and perfectly synchronized dance of our opposing styles. I was the cautious strategist, controlling the flow of the battle from a distance. He was the unstoppable vanguard, sowing chaos and creating openings. Together, we were far more than the sum of our parts.
After a few more minutes of the grueling battle, we had managed to kill two of the Shadow Cats. The remaining three, their pack broken and their instincts screaming at them to flee the two incomprehensible monsters who had invaded their territory, finally broke and vanished into the shadows of the forest.
We were left panting in the silent clearing, the scent of blood and ozone thick in the air. We had won.
The next several days were a journey deeper into the heart of the wilderness. The trees became ancient and gnarled, their branches blocking out the sky. The beasts we encountered grew stronger, and the very air seemed to hum with a wild, untamed power. We crossed rivers of rushing, white water by having Ming use a controlled pulse of 'Blue' to fire a grappling hook across, and we scaled sheer cliff faces that would have been impossible for me alone.
My knowledge from the alchemist's journal proved invaluable. I identified edible fungi, located clean water sources, and pointed out the deceptively beautiful flowers whose pollen could paralyze a man in seconds. I was the navigator and the survival expert. Ming was the raw, versatile power that allowed us to overcome any physical obstacle. Our bickering became the constant, familiar soundtrack to our journey. We argued about the best way to set up camp, whose turn it was to take the first watch, and whether the strange, purple fruit I'd found was delicious or tasted like "sweet dirt."
It was the easy, comfortable bickering of two people who trusted each other with their lives, a remnant of an old friendship that had been reforged into an unbreakable partnership.
After nearly a week of arduous travel, we finally reached our first destination: the Azure Serpent Gorge. It was a breathtaking, terrifying sight. A massive chasm, miles long and thousands of feet deep, split the earth. At its bottom, a river of brilliant, turquoise-colored water snaked its way through the canyon. The ancestor's journal had not done it justice.
According to the map, the "valley of silent shadows" was a day's journey to the north. We found a secure, hidden cave high on the gorge's cliff face, a perfect, defensible location to serve as our base camp. From here, we would begin the most dangerous phase of our mission.
That evening, as the sun began to set, casting the gorge in a spectacular display of orange and red light, I climbed to a high, secluded ledge that overlooked the northern expanse.
"Be careful," Ming said, his voice serious as he stood watch at the cave entrance below. "Don't push yourself too hard."
I nodded and sat down, crossing my legs. I closed my eyes and activated my "Soul-Guiding Hand," but this time, I wasn't trying to manipulate anything. I was pushing my senses outwards, using the technique as a spiritual radar, stretching my perception as far as it could possibly go. I let my soul-sense drift over the vast, alien landscape of the mountains. I felt the vibrant, chaotic life-force of the endless forest, the primal energies of the slumbering Demonic Beasts, the pure, clean power of the wind and the stone.
Then, I focused my senses to the north, pushing past the vibrant tapestry of life, searching for an absence, a void.
At the absolute edge of my perception, so faint it was barely a whisper, I felt it.
It was a subtle but undeniable wrongness. A patch of the world that felt… cold. It was a dead spot in the vibrant symphony of the mountain's life force, a pocket of unnatural silence. It was the "cold that devours the soul" that Xiao He had written about. It was real. And it was out there.
A shiver went down my spine. The confirmation was both a triumph and a terrifying burden. I was about to pull my senses back when Ming's voice, sharp and urgent, came from below.
"Qing-er. Don't move."
I froze. "What is it?" I whispered.
"We're not alone," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Across the gorge. About half a mile west. There's a group hiding in the trees."
My own senses were useless at that range. "Demonic Beasts?"
"No," he said, and the single word sent a fresh wave of ice through my veins. "Their energy signatures are disciplined. Controlled. Human. At least three of them. And they're not moving. They're just… watching. They're watching the same northern horizon you are."
We had journeyed for a week into what we thought was a complete wilderness, on a secret quest to find a hidden nest of our ultimate enemy. We had just discovered that we were not the only hunters in the forest.