The ground felt… nice.
Too nice.
That alone was suspicious.
Shen Hao didn't get up right away.
He lay there, staring up at scattered beams of morning light slicing between the trees, blinking slowly as his thoughts dragged themselves into place.
The moss beneath him was soft, too soft, its damp coolness sinking into the back of his neck in a way that made him want to stay right there.
It smelled faintly of rain and ash.
Which… didn't make sense.
The last thing he remembered was fire, and shouting, and something that had very seriously tried to eat his head.
Now?
Two smoking craters yawned in the dirt beside him.
A broken tree stump leaned at an unnatural angle, its core blackened.
And, a little too close for comfort, what looked suspiciously like part of a monster's skull lay half-buried in the earth.
Everything was still.
Still in the kind of way that made you notice how wrong it felt.
His body ached, not the sharp stab of a fresh wound, but the deep, slow heaviness that filled every muscle after you'd survived something big.
Like someone had dropped a mountain on him, waited a moment, and then, as an afterthought, politely walked away.
Sunlight streamed down through the canopy in warm, golden bands, the dust motes drifting lazily in the air like they hadn't witnessed a thing.
Birds chirped somewhere above.
Leaves swayed and whispered in the breeze.
Far away, something growled, then stopped abruptly, like it had reconsidered the idea.
And right in the middle of all this…
A tiny insect was doing a wobbly, one-legged dance on his forehead.
Shen Hao blinked at it.
"…Am I dead?" he muttered.
A dry, familiar voice curled lazily from the silver ring on his finger.
Lingfeng:
"Sadly, no. If you were, I could finally get a nap. Instead, you've been snoring like a wounded yak for seven hours and twelve minutes."
Shen Hao groaned, rolling onto his side.
His back twinged in protest; his shoulder popped audibly.
Shen Hao:
"You counted?"
Lingfeng:
"I considered carving it into a tree, but the dagger part of me didn't feel like moving."
With a sigh, Shen Hao tapped the side of his watch.
A soft blue glow shimmered above his wrist, hanging in the air.
[SLEEP LOG: 7H 12M]
He squinted at it.
Shen Hao:
"…That wasn't a nap. That was a small coma."
A deeper voice spoke from the spiritual mark in his left palm, calm, but edged.
Mo Han:
"Seven hours is acceptable, considering the fight. But you should've woken sooner. Your awareness is too weak in unconsciousness."
Lingfeng:
"Ohh, he said weak. Burn. Someone get this man some aloe."
Shen Hao sat up, stretching slowly.
Bones cracked in his neck, his shoulders, his spine; one by one like kindling snapping under a boot.
His robe was barely holding together, torn and scorched in places, one sleeve dangling in tatters.
His pants bore a half-burned hem, and something suspiciously sticky clung to his back.
He decided not to ask questions.
Shen Hao:
"Right. Time to pretend I'm a respectable cultivator again."
He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt and crossed to the nearest tree.
From his storage ring, he drew a fresh robe, dark crimson edged with silver. The same style he always wore. He had at least a dozen copies; some habits were worth keeping.
Changing quickly behind the tree, he tried not to focus on the squelch his old robe made when he peeled it off.
Lingfeng (snickering):
"You know, from this angle, you kind of look like a roasted dumpling."
Shen Hao:
"One more word, and I swear I'll use you to peel potatoes."
With a clean robe, hair half-tamed, and pride mostly intact, Shen Hao stepped back into the open.
The forest stretched ahead,dense with tangled vines, towering trees, and a silence that suggested many, many eyes were watching from the shadows.
Shen Hao (muttering):
"Seventy kilometers to go. Through jungle. With monsters. And bugs."
Lingfeng:
"And let's not forget the river water. One sip and hello, diarrhea."
Mo Han (calm but sharp):
"Focus."
Shen Hao:
"I am focusing. On how much I want to burn this entire forest down."
The vines clawed at his ankles.
Roots reached to trip him.
Branches whipped at his face like they had a grudge.
He walked for… thirty minutes, maybe more.
The forest thinned just enough for his shoulders to breathe, luxury compared to before.
And then,
A sound.
Trickle.
Gurgle.
Splash.
Water.
His ears perked like a starving man hearing the clink of coins.
Shen Hao (dryly):
"Water. Finally. I was one mosquito bite away from drinking my own sweat."
The sound grew louder with each step.
A steady, liquid murmur, threading between the rustle of leaves and the muffled thud of his boots on damp earth.
He pushed through a patch of brush, the leaves slapping against his shoulders, and the jungle suddenly opened.
A narrow ribbon of silver water cut across the clearing.
Not wide, three steps, maybe, but perfectly clear, curling away through the trees in a lazy bend.
The sunlight caught it in broken shards, making it glitter as though the stream had been stitched with glass.
The air here was cooler.
Fresher.
It smelled faintly of wet stone and the green sweetness of river plants.
Shen Hao stood still for a moment, letting the view soak into him.
Lingfeng (flat):
"This is nice. Too nice. Nature doesn't 'nice' you unless it's planning something."
Mo Han (measured):
"Use the moment. Wash. Drink. Check your gear. Then move."
Shen Hao knelt at the bank, the damp soil giving slightly under his weight.
He dipped both hands into the stream.
Cold rushed over his skin, biting at first, then settling into a refreshing chill that seemed to chase some of the soreness from his bones.
He cupped the water, brought it to his face, and let it spill over his cheeks.
The shock of it woke him up more than any pill could.
Shen Hao (sighing):
"Mmm. Forest edition face wash. Ten out of ten."
Lingfeng:
"Don't drink it."
Shen Hao:
"I wasn't going to, okay, I was. But I won't."
He bent forward again, fingers trailing through the water,
And froze.
No birds.
No insects.
No breeze.
Even Lingfeng's constant stream of sarcasm cut off mid-breath.
The world felt… hollow.
Like the jungle had taken a deep breath and forgotten how to exhale.
Shen Hao stayed still, water dripping slowly from his fingers, each drop hitting the river with an exaggerated plink.
His pulse seemed too loud in his ears.
Very, very slowly, he straightened, eyes scanning without turning his head.
The trees were the same.
The vines were the same.
The shadows were,
Rustle.
It came from across the stream.
Low.
Measured.
Not the random flutter of a small animal.
His head turned sharply, the movement almost instinct.
Behind a tangle of bushes, something shifted.
For a heartbeat, all he saw was darkness and leaves.
Then, two points of gold light, low to the ground, steady and unblinking.
Eyes.
The golden points didn't blink.
They just stared, fixed and cold, as if marking him, not with curiosity, but with certainty.
A low rumble seeped into the air.
Not loud.
Not even close to a roar.
But it vibrated faintly in the ground beneath his feet, traveling up through his legs, settling in his chest like a warning that had bypassed his ears entirely.
Leaves shifted.
The shadows swelled.
Then it stepped forward.
The beast's head emerged first, broad, angular, lined with ridges that caught the faint light and made them glisten like polished stone.
Its jaws opened just slightly, showing the pale gleam of teeth shaped for tearing.
It moved with a kind of heavy grace, muscles rippling beneath a hide patterned with scars.
Every step pressed deep into the damp soil, leaving behind an impression that slowly filled with water.
The air around it felt… heavier.
Not metaphorically.
Each breath took more effort, as though its presence had thickened the space between them.
Spiritual energy radiated from it, faint but constant, brushing against his skin like heat from an oven door.
Shen Hao's eyes narrowed.
Shen Hao (quiet, almost to himself):
"Beginning Realm… Level seven? If my Qi wasn't,"
A sound behind him.
Not the beast's growl.
Another one.
Deeper. Shorter.
He turned.
Across the clearing, half-hidden between two trees, another pair of yellow eyes hovered at the same low height.
No light reflected off its body, only the eyes, sharp and deliberate, fixed directly on him.
He heard the faint drag of claws over bark.
And then, more.
To his left.
A soft hiss.
Another glow, this one higher, angled downward as though watching from a branch.
To his right.
A throaty rumble, followed by a slow, wet inhale.
More shapes moved.
More eyes ignited in the shadows.
Two became four.
Four became six.
Each pair anchored in place, holding perfectly still… except for the slow, steady breathing he could now hear layered on top of the stream's murmur.
Some eyes crept closer to the ground.
Others swayed slightly, as if pacing in place.
One set blinked sideways, not like a human eyelid, but like a curtain being drawn from the edges in.
The jungle was no longer empty.
It was watching him.
Shen Hao's breath slowed without him meaning it to.
Each inhale felt like it might be heard.
Each exhale threatened to give something permission to move.
He turned his head just a fraction at a time, letting his eyes sweep rather than his whole body.
Everywhere, yellow.
Between trunks.
Behind dangling curtains of vines.
Up in the crooks of branches thick enough to hide a predator twice his size.
Some glowed faintly, hazy with distance.
Others were close enough that the faintest shimmer of a slit pupil could be seen within the gold.
The space between heartbeats seemed longer now.
He could feel his pulse pressing against his temples.
The beasts… weren't rushing him.
They had numbers.
They had the position.
And yet, they just watched.
No snarls.
No sudden lunges.
No show of teeth meant to scare him into running.
It was worse than that.
They were patient.
Something shifted in the air, not wind, not sound.
Just a subtle tightening, like the whole clearing had leaned in closer to listen.
Shen Hao's skin prickled.
His mind reached instinctively for Qi, only to feel the hollowness of recent battle still there, faintly warmed now by the recovery pill burning in his stomach.
Not enough for a stand-up fight.
Barely enough for one decisive move.
Mo Han's voice, low but firm, carried through the weight in his head:
"Do not fight. Not like this. You're surrounded. Your Qi hasn't recovered. Run."
Lingfeng's voice, in that dry, infuriating way:
"I vote run. Preferably before they start discussing marinade."
Shen Hao's gaze flicked to the one place in the circle that wasn't clogged with glowing eyes.
A narrow trail, hemmed in by thick brush, maybe a shoulder's width across.
It curved sharply out of sight after a few paces, which meant anything could be waiting beyond.
But it was open.
Now.
And every instinct screamed that it might not stay that way for long.
Shen Hao stared at the gap.
The gap stared back.
Well… not really.
But he could feel it judging him.
Like it was saying, Sure, hero, try me. I definitely don't have something worse on the other side.
His left hand twitched toward his robe, brushing against the faint bulge of his emergency recovery pill pouch.
Empty.
Right. He'd just swallowed the last one.
It was currently doing the Qi equivalent of knocking politely on his dantian's door and being told, "We're closed, come back never."
He licked his lips.
His mouth was dry.
His palms, unfortunately, were not.
From the ring, Lingfeng whispered in his most unhelpful tone:
"So… you know how I always tell you you're the main character? This is one of those scenes where you either do something epic… or get eaten before the chapter break."
Mo Han, calm as an iced-over lake:
"Run. Now."
Lingfeng again:
"See? Even Mr. Serious is saying it. That's basically an official verdict."
Shen Hao sighed, muttering under his breath:
"Fine. But if I die, I'm haunting both of you. And I'll be loud about it."
He shifted his stance.
Bent his knees.
Made sure the nearest monster was just far enough that it couldn't swipe him mid-launch.
One deep breath.
Two.
On the third, he gave himself one last piece of encouragement:
You've outrun angry farmers, drunk mercenaries, and that one girl from the market who swore you stole her melon. You can do this.
Then,
He ran.
And the jungle immediately exploded into a wall of snarls, wings, hisses, and claws.
"WHYYYY---" branch smack to the face "---IS IT ALWAYS MEEEEE?!"