The forest did not react when Lin Chen turned away.
It did not resist his departure, nor did it urge him forward. Branches parted only where his steps required it. Roots receded just enough to make passage effortless. The Old Forest behaved as it always had around him — indifferent, permissive, unwilling to impose meaning.
Behind him, footsteps followed again.
Not rushed.
Not hesitant.
Measured.
Dao Xuan walked several paces behind, posture composed but quieter than before. The clarity he had set aside during the spar did not immediately return, as though the forest itself insisted he earn it back rather than receive it automatically.
To the side, half-shadowed by the treeline, the man in ash-colored robes drifted along with casual ease. He did not follow the path. He did not need to. Space adjusted subtly around him, accommodating his presence without effort.
For a time, none of them spoke.
The forest seemed to prefer it that way.
Eventually, Dao Xuan broke the silence.
"You have not told us your name," he said.
There was no authority in the request. No expectation of refusal. Just the calm assumption that names, once exchanged, clarified uncertainty.
Lin Chen continued walking for several steps before answering.
"Lin Chen," he said.
The name settled into the air.
It carried no weight.
No omen.
No reaction from Heaven or forest alike.
Dao Xuan repeated it once, quietly, testing the sound. The Void Scripture observer listened without comment, eyes narrowing briefly, as though committing the name to memory while refusing to assign it meaning.
"Lin Chen," Dao Xuan said again. "It suits you."
Lin Chen did not respond.
After another stretch of silence, the observer spoke.
"You don't ask for names in return," he noted lightly.
Lin Chen glanced toward him. "Names are not always useful."
The observer laughed softly. "That's unfortunate. Some of us rely on them."
Dao Xuan inclined his head slightly. "If you wish to know."
Lin Chen waited.
"Dao Xuan," he said again, without embellishment. "Holy Son of the Nine Heavens Holy Land of the Qingyun Continent."
Lin Chen acknowledged it with a nod.
The observer sighed theatrically. "And here I was enjoying the mystery."
He pushed off a leaning trunk and stepped closer, boots never quite touching soil where roots were thickest.
"I go by Mo Ran," he said. "Void Scripture Holy Land."
The name felt incomplete.
Intentionally so.
Lin Chen did not press.
They walked on.
The forest deepened again, light thinning, Qi dispersing even more quickly than before. A faint scent of old wood hung in the air — dry, enduring, untouched by rot.
Dao Xuan's gaze shifted subtly as he noticed it.
"This is the region," he said.
Lin Chen slowed slightly. "Region for what?"
"The Wood of Longevity," Dao Xuan replied.
The words were spoken carefully, without reverence or excitement.
"A remnant of an ancient growth cycle," he continued. "Not a divine tree. Not a relic. Simply wood that has persisted beyond its natural limit."
Lin Chen nodded once.
"And you seek it," he said.
"Yes," Dao Xuan answered. "For an acquaintance."
The Void Scripture observer's lips twitched. "You make it sound mundane."
"It is mundane," Dao Xuan said calmly. "Its value comes from application, not legend."
Lin Chen considered that.
"Does your acquaintance need it to live longer," he asked, "or to live differently?"
Dao Xuan paused.
"Differently," he said at last.
The forest seemed to accept that answer.
They moved deeper still.
The ground grew uneven, roots forming tangled patterns that would have slowed most travelers. Lin Chen's pace did not change. Dao Xuan adjusted carefully. Mo Ran did not adjust at all.
After some time, Mo Ran spoke again.
"You didn't answer our earlier question," he said.
Lin Chen glanced at him.
"Why you came here," Mo Ran clarified. "To this forest."
Lin Chen looked ahead.
"To walk," he said.
"That's it?"
"That's enough."
Mo Ran chuckled. "You don't strike me as someone who wanders without reason."
Lin Chen's voice was even. "You mistake movement for aim."
Dao Xuan listened closely.
"You are not searching for anything," he said.
"I am allowing," Lin Chen replied.
The difference lingered between them.
They reached a place where several ancient trees grew closer together than the rest, trunks wide, bark darkened by age. Between them lay fragments of pale wood — not fallen, not cut, simply… left behind.
Dao Xuan stopped.
"This is it," he said.
Lin Chen studied the wood.
It did not radiate Qi.
It did not resist it either.
It existed.
"Will you take it," Lin Chen asked, "or does it decide that itself?"
Dao Xuan almost smiled.
"It decides," he said. "I only confirm."
He approached carefully, kneeling before one fragment. He did not touch it immediately. Instead, he waited — breath steady, intent unasserted.
After a long moment, he reached out.
The wood did not move.
Dao Xuan exhaled softly.
"That is enough," he said again, rising. He retrieved only a single piece, no larger than his palm, and sealed it without ceremony.
Mo Ran watched with mild interest.
"Successful pilgrimage," he said dryly.
Dao Xuan ignored the remark.
They resumed walking.
The forest began to thin gradually, as if satisfied with what it had allowed and eager to return to forgetting.
After a while, Dao Xuan spoke again.
"Lin Chen," he said. "You do not belong to any sect."
It was not a question.
"No," Lin Chen replied.
"You do not cultivate under doctrine."
"No."
"You do not rely on Heaven's affirmation."
"No."
Dao Xuan nodded slowly.
"Then you should visit the Nine Heavens Holy Land someday," he said.
The invitation was not command.
Not expectation.
Almost… courtesy.
"You would find it educational," Dao Xuan continued. "If nothing else."
Lin Chen did not answer immediately.
"And why would I go," he asked, "to a place that interprets what I do not consult?"
Dao Xuan did not bristle.
"Because it would not know what to do with you," he said honestly.
Mo Ran laughed. "That alone makes it worth the trip."
Lin Chen considered.
"Perhaps," he said.
Mo Ran tilted his head. "If you're collecting invitations, I might as well add one."
He gestured vaguely, as though the concept of a location amused him.
"Void Scripture Holy Land," he said. "No alignment. No hierarchy worth mentioning. We don't explain much."
"That sounds inconvenient," Lin Chen said.
Mo Ran grinned. "We take pride in that."
They walked together a while longer.
No one pressed.
No one hurried.
Eventually, the forest opened enough to suggest paths again — not true roads, but directions the world tolerated.
Dao Xuan slowed.
"This is where we part," he said.
Mo Ran stretched lazily. "For now."
Lin Chen inclined his head once.
"Safe travels," Dao Xuan said.
Lin Chen nodded. "To your acquaintance."
Dao Xuan paused.
Then nodded in return.
Mo Ran watched Lin Chen for a moment longer.
"If you disappear," he said lightly, "try to do it somewhere interesting."
Lin Chen walked on.
The forest erased his passage.
Behind him, Dao Xuan and Mo Ran stood in silence.
"He doesn't belong anywhere," Mo Ran said.
Dao Xuan replied quietly, "That may be the problem."
The forest did not correct them.