They didn't stop running.
Not completely.
Even after the sounds behind them faded, Lin Mo kept the pace high, only slowing enough to avoid exhaustion. The forest blurred past in shifting patterns of light and shadow, their path no longer cautious—it was efficient.
They weren't wandering anymore.
They were moving with intent.
—
By the time the sun began to dip, they had covered more distance than in the last two days combined.
And it showed.
The terrain had changed again.
Less forest.
More open ground.
Patches of rock and uneven slopes replaced dense roots. The trees that remained were thinner, spaced apart, offering less concealment but more visibility.
Lin Mo stopped briefly at a ridge.
Looked ahead.
Then frowned slightly.
"…Smoke."
Shi Yue followed his gaze.
Far in the distance—barely visible—was a thin trail rising into the sky.
Not natural.
Not random.
Controlled.
"…People," she said.
Lin Mo nodded.
But he didn't move immediately.
Because now—
that didn't automatically mean safety.
—
"…We don't go straight," he said.
Shi Yue didn't question it.
They shifted direction slightly, circling instead of approaching directly. Keeping distance. Watching first.
That was the difference now.
Before, they would have gone toward it.
Now—
they thought.
—
They moved for another hour before stopping near a rocky incline.
This time, Lin Mo didn't delay.
He sat down.
Closed his eyes.
Started cultivating.
—
No buildup.
No hesitation.
Cycle.
One.
Two.
Three.
Each one clean.
Each one faster than before.
The thread no longer felt fragile. It moved smoothly, almost naturally, as if his body had begun to accept it.
Shi Yue matched him again.
Perfectly.
Their synchronization had become normal.
Expected.
—
Then—
pressure.
—
It came without warning.
A sudden heaviness inside his body.
Not external.
Internal.
The thread slowed.
Thickened.
As if something was blocking its path.
Lin Mo didn't open his eyes.
Didn't panic.
He adjusted.
Slowed his breathing.
Reduced effort.
Let the thread move at its own pace.
The pressure didn't disappear.
But it shifted.
Became manageable.
—
Shi Yue spoke quietly.
"…It's back."
She felt it too.
The same resistance.
—
"…Push or stabilize?" she asked.
Lin Mo thought for a fraction of a second.
"…Stabilize."
Wrong move here—
and they'd lose everything they built.
—
They didn't force it.
Didn't try to break through.
They continued cycling slowly, letting the thread reinforce itself instead of pushing against the pressure.
One cycle.
Then another.
Then another.
—
Gradually—
the heaviness changed.
Not gone.
But no longer blocking.
More like…
something waiting.
—
Lin Mo opened his eyes.
"…We're close," he said.
Shi Yue nodded.
"…To the next layer."
Second layer.
Qi Refinement.
—
No excitement.
Just understanding.
—
They didn't rush it.
Instead, they stood.
Moved again.
Because now—
they had something more important than a breakthrough.
Momentum.
—
As they approached closer to the source of smoke, signs of human activity became clearer.
Cut branches.
Footprints.
A faint trail.
—
Lin Mo slowed again.
"…Careful."
Shi Yue adjusted her position slightly, staying closer.
Lin An'an was awake now, looking around quietly, her small hand gripping Shi Yue's sleeve.
—
The trail led downward.
Toward a clearing.
—
They didn't step into it immediately.
Instead, Lin Mo crouched at the edge.
Watched.
—
Three tents.
A small fire.
Two men sitting.
One standing.
—
Not villagers.
Not ordinary.
—
The standing one moved differently.
Not exaggerated.
Not obvious.
But controlled.
Every movement precise.
—
"…Qi Refinement," Shi Yue whispered.
Lin Mo nodded slightly.
He could feel it now.
Not clearly.
But enough.
That same presence.
More stable.
More developed.
—
"…We leave," Lin Mo said quietly.
Shi Yue didn't argue.
—
But before they could move—
—
"Stop."
—
The voice came from behind them.
Calm.
Unhurried.
—
Lin Mo froze.
Shi Yue stilled instantly.
—
They turned slowly.
—
A man stood there.
Not far.
Not close.
Just enough.
—
They hadn't sensed him.
At all.
—
His gaze moved between them briefly.
Then settled.
"…You've been watching for a while," he said.
Not accusing.
Just stating.
—
Lin Mo didn't respond immediately.
His mind was already moving.
Options.
None good.
—
"…We're leaving," Lin Mo said finally.
Simple.
Direct.
—
The man tilted his head slightly.
"…You're at the early stage."
Not a question.
An observation.
—
Lin Mo said nothing.
—
The man's gaze shifted to Shi Yue.
Then to Lin An'an.
Then back.
—
"…Strange," he murmured.
—
A pause.
—
Then—
"…You completed cycles already."
—
Lin Mo's eyes sharpened slightly.
—
He knew.
—
Shi Yue stepped slightly closer.
Not hiding.
Not retreating.
Just… there.
—
The man watched that.
Then gave a faint, almost amused exhale.
—
"…Relax," he said.
"I'm not interested in killing you."
—
No reassurance.
Just fact.
—
Lin Mo didn't relax.
Not even slightly.
—
"…What do you want?" he asked.
—
The man considered that for a moment.
Then—
"…Nothing."
—
Silence.
—
"…Then we'll go," Lin Mo said.
—
"…Wait."
—
The word wasn't loud.
But it carried weight.
—
Lin Mo stopped.
—
The man looked at him.
Then said—
—
"…Do you even know what you're doing?"
—
A pause.
—
"…Cultivating like that… in a place like this?"
—
Lin Mo didn't answer.
—
Because the truth was—
—
not fully.
—
The man's gaze didn't change.
—
"…You're lucky you're still alive."
—
Shi Yue's voice came quietly.
"…Then tell us."
—
The man looked at her.
For a moment—
something shifted.
Interest.
—
Then—
he smiled faintly.
—
"…Maybe I will."