For a moment, the man's expression didn't change—but his gaze shifted slightly, scanning the room. He noticed Forsythia moving toward the door, the faintest trace of energy brushing against his senses as she passed.
They brushed shoulders, and in that instant, something clicked in his mind. The aura from the stone… was mingled with hers.
He didn't stop her. He simply watched her walk away, his eyes darkening with calculation.
It's her.
Forsythia stepped out into the narrow aisle of the underground market, the wrapped stone clutched in her bag. The din of voices and clinking objects returned around her, but something prickled along the back of her neck.
She slowed, glancing over her shoulder.
Through the shop's open doorway, the tall man still stood inside, his attention fixed solely on her. His gaze wasn't hostile, but it was sharp enough to make her heartbeat stumble—like he was memorizing her every movement.
Aldric, perched on her shoulder, tilted his head slightly. "Keep walking. Don't look back again."
She obeyed, but her fingers curled around the strap of her bag. "Who was that?" she asked under her breath.
"Someone who knows exactly what you just bought," Aldric replied, his tone suddenly serious. "And someone who's not going to let it go."
Forsythia's mouth went dry, though she tried to mask it. She took a longer stride, blending into the flow of cultivators. But as they turned a corner, she could still feel it—an invisible thread tugging at her awareness, the certainty that the man's eyes were still on her, even from far behind.
The market's shifting light cast fleeting glimmers on Forsythia's hair as she leaned slightly toward the small bird perched on her arm. Her lips moved quickly, her voice a low murmur—too soft to carry far.
From several paces behind, the man's eyes narrowed. At first, he thought she was simply whispering to herself. But then the bird answered.
Clear, articulate words—casual, teasing—came from its beak.
A spirit bird.
And not just any—his aura was refined, old, layered with cultivation far beyond what such a small frame suggested. The man's instincts prickled; if his guess was right, this was a spirit beast in the form of a bird, the kind others would risk fortunes or blood to contract.
His gaze shifted to the girl. Her steps were light, her presence…ordinary. A normal human.
He frowned faintly. How could someone without any detectable power form a contract with such a creature? The most plausible answer was family influence—perhaps her clan had forced the bird into the bond. But even then… spirit beasts were proud beings. Most would rather die than submit to an unworthy master.
Interesting.
First, she'd taken the power stone from right under his nose. Now, she walked through the market with a rare and clearly intelligent spirit bird at her side. And she didn't seem to realize how much attention she should be drawing.
He let a small smile ghost across his face. Looks like the girl's hiding more than she thinks.
This was no longer just about the stone. Now, he had two mysteries to unravel—what she wanted with it, and how she'd come to possess that bird.
And there was only one way to find out.
He would have to get close enough to watch her… and close enough that she would start watching him back.
The moment Forsythia stepped out of the antique shop, Aldric's sharp eyes flicked toward the shadows. A moment ago, there had been a distinct ripple—someone strong, watching them. But now… nothing.
The aura had vanished completely, as if it had never been there at all.
Aldric narrowed his gaze. "Hmph. Either he's left… or he's tucked his tail away after sensing me," he muttered under his breath. His feathers ruffled in mild irritation.
Forsythia glanced at him. "What is it?"
"Nothing," Aldric replied, hopping back onto her shoulder. "Let's talk about our next stop."
They strolled through the winding market alleys, passing cultivators bartering over strange glowing herbs, merchants hawking talismans that shimmered with faint light, and masked figures carrying odd relics radiating subtle power.
"Our next target," Aldric said at last, "is the feather of a three-hundred-year-old eagle."
Forsythia stopped mid-step. "Three… hundred years?" Her eyes widened, her voice tinged with worry. "Where are we supposed to find something like that? That could take forever."
"It won't," Aldric said, eyes half-lidded as he drew in a slow breath. The air seemed to hum faintly around him. After a few moments, he opened his eyes, a glint of satisfaction within them. "I've found it. Northeast—about two hundred and twenty-five miles from here."
Forsythia exhaled in relief, then frowned again. "That's still going to take a while. We should get what we need before we set out—food, water, maybe some other supplies."
"Fine," Aldric said with a dramatic sigh. Then, with a sly look, he added, "Also… I want more of those fruits your father gave me."
Forsythia laughed lightly. "Of course you do. I'll call him and ask him to have someone bring them to another stop along our way. In the meantime—" her smile turned playful—"how about some tea and pastries? I'm suddenly craving something sweet."
Aldric tilted his head, pretending to think it over. "Only if they have almond tarts."
"Deal," Forsythia said, and they continued toward a quieter row of shops, unaware that a certain pair of eyes was still following them… from a distance.