The caravan had been traveling for half a day.
As the sun climbed higher, the forest grew denser. Lu Chen's patience grew thinner.
Nothing. No beasts. No bandits. No EXP. The Bloodvine Forest, supposedly crawling with things that wanted to kill anything that wasn't beast, had become a peaceful nature trail. Unsettling. Like a graveyard where even the worms had packed up and left—probably to find better real estate. The forest was so empty you could hear a flea sneeze.
I noticed.
Oh really? I had no idea.
Shut up.
He walked alongside the wagon, eyes scanning the treeline. Lin Mei had offered him snacks seven times. Lin Xue had found reasons to walk beside him for three consecutive hours. Old Guard Wei kept glancing between them with the warm expression of a grandfather who had already decided how the story ended.
Lu Chen ignored all of it.
His mind was on the road ahead. On the Ascension Meet. On the breakthrough that still hadn't come.
I know.
I know.
I KNOW.
---
As if on cue, the caravan rounded a bend and found the road blocked.
A dozen cultivators in matching crimson robes stood in formation across the path, arms crossed, auras flickering at Body Tempering 8 and 9. One of them—a youth with a sharp face and a sharper sneer—stepped forward like he owned the forest and everything in it.
"Road's closed. Turn back."
Old Guard Wei's hand went to his sword. "This is the main route to Jade Cloud Sect. By whose authority?"
"Young Master Feng of the Feng Clan." The youth flicked his sleeve, showing off golden phoenix embroidery. "He's conducting beast taming exercises. No one passes until he's done."
Lin Xue stepped forward, her voice measured. "We have an invitation to the Jade Cloud Sect. Surely Young Master Feng wouldn't block the path of sect guests."
The youth sneered. "Young Master Feng doesn't care about your invitation."
Lu Chen watched from the back, leaning against a tree, and said nothing.
The Veil of the Unremarkable sat against his skin beneath his robes—a thin cloth etched with a forgetting technique, won from a face slap bonus chest the System had dropped on him with the energy of someone presenting a gift they were very proud of.
[Reward: 'Veil of the Unremarkable' (Temporary Charm)!] — Renders host 40% more forgettable for 6 hours. Not invisibility—just profound mundanity.
He'd put it on that same day and hadn't taken it off since.
It worked on everyone.
Almost everyone.
I'm always thinking about it.
You're enjoying this.
<...Yes.>
Before either of them could act, a new voice cut through the standoff.
"Let them through."
Everyone turned.
A young man in ornate crimson robes rode up on a silver-maned lion, the beast's low growl vibrating through the clearing like a second heartbeat. Handsome face. Easy smile. Eyes that measured you for a coffin before you'd finished introducing yourself. His aura pressed against the air—Peak Body Tempering 9. Half a step from Body Forging.
He waved a lazy hand. "They're not worth the delay."
The guards hesitated. "But Young Master—"
"I said let them pass."
His gaze swept across the caravan. Paused.
Landed on Lu Chen.
Stayed there.
Lu Chen felt it—not the pressure of an aura, but something colder and more deliberate. The focused attention of someone whose eyes were telling him that what he was looking at and what he was supposed to be seeing were two different things.
The Veil prickled against his skin.
Feng Hao's lips curved. Not a smile exactly. The ghost of one. The expression of a man who had found something interesting and had decided, for now, to leave it where it was.
He nudged his lion back toward the trees without another word.
The guards stepped aside. The caravan moved forward.
Lu Chen walked past the formation, expression neutral, eyes forward.
I know.
Embarrassed?
<...Recalibrating.>
It's a piece of garbage.
It failed.
It failed on the one person we needed it to work on.
Lu Chen said nothing. He kept walking. But he felt Feng Hao's eyes on his back until the road bent—steady, patient, the gaze of a man who had made a note and intended to revisit it.
---
Another hour passed.
The forest changed. Gradually, the way bad things usually did—first the birds stopped, then the insects, then the wind itself seemed to reconsider its direction. The silence pressed in from all sides, thick and deliberate.
Old Guard Wei's frown deepened. "Where are the beasts? This forest should be crawling with them."
Lin Mei pulled her shawl tighter. "Maybe they're sleeping?"
"Beasts don't sleep this quietly."
Zhao, the wiry guard with the broken nose, shifted nervously. "I don't like this. I don't like this at all. The last time it got this quiet, I was in a village that got—"
"We know, Zhao," the caterpillar-eyebrow guard cut in. "You tell us every time it gets quiet."
"Because it's important! Silence means death! Everyone knows that!"
"Not everyone. Just you."
"I'm a survivor. Survivors know things."
"You survived a bandit attack because you hid in a latrine."
Lu Chen, deep in thought about EXP and breakthrough methods, accidentally heard this and choked on air. He coughed, sputtered, and had to stop walking for a moment to compose himself. The guards turned to stare. He waved them off, still coughing.
Did I just hear that correctly?
A latrine.
He hid in a latrine.
Lu Chen wiped his mouth. Breathed. Kept walking.
"A latrine that saved my life!" Zhao continued, oblivious. "That's strategic thinking!"
"Latrine thinking," another guard muttered. "That's what you did. Latrine thinking."
Zhao's face reddened. "I'll have you know that latrine had a very good view of the—"
The caterpillar-eyebrow guard clapped a hand over Zhao's mouth. "If you finish that sentence, I'll throw you in the next latrine we find."
"It's the third latrine joke today," the third guard said, shaking his head. "You people have a problem."
"Zhao has a problem. The rest of us are just commenting."
Lu Chen watched them bicker, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. These men had been tied up and nearly sold into slavery just yesterday. Now they were arguing about latrines.
---
Finally.
They came out of the treeline like silver ghosts—first one, then ten, then the full weight of the pack.
About fifty wolves.
Fur the blue-silver of a winter sky. Fangs like short swords. Eyes burning gold in the shadows. Their growls ran together into something that felt less like sound and more like pressure—a single intelligence speaking through fifty throats.
The horses screamed. Even Wei went pale.
"Spirit-Touched Silver Fangs," he breathed.
[TO BE CONTINUED...]