The man's question hung in the air.
"Little one," he repeated evenly, "where are your elders?"
I let three full breaths pass before answering.
"Dead."
The word landed cleanly—too clean. Not defiant, not emotional.
The tall man's eyes narrowed by a fraction. Around him, the others shifted, hands drifting closer to weapons or spirit tools.
"That depth of calm doesn't belong to an orphan," he said. "Nor does a black soul ring."
I inclined my head slightly, neither confirming nor denying it.
"My elders taught me one thing before they died," I replied. "Never trust strangers in the Star Dou Great Forest."
A short, amused snort came from the left.
A woman in dark leather stepped forward, a wolf-head emblem stitched into her shoulder guard.
"Mercenary Guild," I noted instantly.
"Sharp tongue," she said. "And sharp instincts. Kid, you know how many people walk out of here alive after absorbing a black ring alone?"
"Fewer than those who try to take it from me," I replied.
Silence.
The air thickened.
The tall man raised a hand, stopping his group from advancing. His gaze never left mine.
"You're not from the Spirit Hall," he said slowly.
Interesting. He's probing.
"If I were," I answered calmly, "you would already be kneeling—or dead."
A flicker of unease passed through two members of the group.
The word Spirit Hall always did that.
A third figure stepped forward—robes trimmed with silver thread, sect insignia half-hidden.
"Your control is too refined for a lone cultivator," he said. "And too disciplined for a mercenary brat. You trained under a sect."
I met his eyes.
"No."
That denial was absolute.
The sect disciple frowned. "Then explain how a boy your age absorbs an eighteen-thousand-year ring without exploding."
I smiled faintly.
That was my mistake.
The tall man's gaze sharpened instantly.
"Eighteen thousand?" he repeated.
The mercenary woman turned sharply toward him. "You said black ring. You didn't say that black."
Too late.
I felt it—the shift. Killing intent, no longer restrained.
"So," the tall man said quietly, soul power beginning to rise, "you lied. You're not weak. You're not alone. And you're not harmless."
I stood.
"My lie," I said evenly, "was assuming you'd stay rational."
The sect disciple's eyes widened. "Formation—!"
I moved before he finished speaking.
Second soul ring—activate.
My physical attributes surged as the Thousand Demon Sword shattered mid-air, its fragments embedding into the sand in a pre-laid pattern I had prepared long before opening my eyes.
Fourth soul ring—switch.
Space folded.
I vanished.
Reappeared behind the mercenary woman.
One blade fragment detonated—not to kill, but to blind. Sand and soul power erupted in a violent burst.
"Ambush—!" someone shouted.
Too slow.
A golden thunder slash tore across the ground, collapsing the sand beneath their feet and triggering the remaining trap lines. Steel-thread nets surged upward, entangling two members instantly.
I did not stay.
Switch. Switch. Switch.
Three rapid spatial transfers through embedded blades—each one calculated, each one burning away my soul power reserves with ruthless efficiency.
By the time the tall man broke free and struck the ground where I had been—
I was already gone.
Far away, concealed beneath layered soul concealment, I slowed my breathing.
Spirit Hall suspects avoided.
Sect hostility triggered.
Mercenary Guild marked me as prey.
Acceptable losses.
I turned and disappeared deeper into the forest.
In the Star Dou Great Forest, knowledge was a weapon.
And today, I had taken theirs—without giving them mine.
Aftermath — Group POV
The sand settled slowly.
Broken nets lay half-buried, scorched by residual lightning. The air still smelled of poison, burnt metal, and something sharper—calculation.
The tall man straightened, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.
"…He escaped."
No one argued.
The mercenary woman cursed under her breath, kicking aside a shattered blade fragment. "That wasn't running. That was a withdrawal."
The sect disciple knelt beside the corpse of the Two-Headed Golden Dragon Snake, his expression dark.
"Eighteen thousand years," he muttered. "Absorbed cleanly. No backlash."
He looked up slowly.
"That child was never prey."
A younger mercenary swallowed. "Then what the hell was he?"
The tall man exhaled, long and controlled.
"Someone trained for war, not survival."
He turned to the sect disciple. "You felt it too. That wasn't Spirit Hall's standard method."
"No," the sect disciple replied. "Spirit Hall prefers dominance and suppression. This boy preferred misdirection and erasure."
The mercenary woman crossed her arms. "Then why mention Spirit Hall at all?"
Silence.
Then realization struck.
"…To make us hesitate," the tall man said quietly. "To stop us from acting together."
The sect disciple's face tightened. "And it worked."
A sharp laugh escaped the mercenary woman. "Damn brat played three factions with one mouth."
The tall man clenched his fist.
"Spread the word," he ordered. "A lone youth with spatial movement, gold-thunder techniques, and black ring absorption beyond normal limits."
He paused.
"But do not exaggerate. If Spirit Hall hears too much, they will erase this region clean."
The sect disciple rose slowly. "They already might."
Everyone went still.
"Why else," the disciple continued, "would we all be here?"
MC POV — Concealment Zone
I did not stop moving for six kilometers.
Only after layering three concealment techniques and suppressing my soul power to the level of a wounded Sect realm cultivator did I allow myself to think.
My breathing was steady. My heart rate controlled.
No pursuit.
Good.
I replayed the encounter once—only once.
They were not a hunting party.
They were an intersection.
Mercenary Guild: tracking specialists and cleanup crews.
Sect disciples: verification and authority.
Spirit Hall: oversight, elimination, or acquisition.
Too coordinated to be coincidence.
I reached a conclusion quickly.
"This region has been marked."
The eastern sand valley.
Fire-attribute concentration.
High-frequency ten-thousand-year beast activity.
And most importantly—
Abnormal soul ring formations.
Someone had broken the balance recently.
I narrowed my eyes.
"Not me."
Which meant—
A Spirit Hall operation failed.
Spirit Hall never mobilized openly unless:
A high-value soul beast mutated abnormally
A sect attempted illegal hunting
Or a variable appeared that should not exist
The group I encountered was not hunting beasts.
They were confirming rumors.
A youth.
A black ring.
Spatial movement.
Gold-attribute martial spirit.
I exhaled slowly.
"They think I'm the anomaly."
That was dangerous.
But also useful.
As long as Spirit Hall believed I was a result, not a cause, they would hesitate.
I adjusted my route, turning sharply south.
"No more hunting here," I decided.
Rin. Anne. The city.
I needed to vanish from the forest's logic.
The Star Dou Great Forest was no longer just a wilderness.
It had become a chessboard.
And too many eyes had just learned my color.
Why All Three Factions Appeared Here
1. Spirit Hall's Role
Spirit Hall monitors:
Abnormal soul ring absorption
Mutated high-year soul beasts
Unauthorized black-ring acquisitions
A recent failure—likely a mutated beast escaping or a target being stolen—forced them to deploy covert observers rather than open force.
2. Sect Involvement
Sects:
Follow Spirit Hall's movements
Seek leverage, evidence, or rare resources
Confirm whether Spirit Hall is hiding a new "chosen" asset
Their presence indicates political suspicion, not cooperation.
3. Mercenary Guild's Presence
Mercenaries:
Clean up aftermaths
Eliminate witnesses
Track high-value targets for bidding
They follow profit, not ideology.
Why Together?
Not alliance—overlap.
Each faction:
Suspects the others
Wants exclusive control
Cannot move openly without exposing intent