The road leading southwest from Yellow City could still, at first, be called a proper road.
Its surface was packed earth, worn down by the footsteps of merchants and the hooves of burden-bearing animals. On both sides grew low shrubs, unevenly trimmed by the occasional passerby. In some places, faint cart tracks still carved shallow grooves into the ground.
But after two hours of walking, all of that changed.
The road narrowed. The shrubs grew taller and denser. The cart tracks disappeared, replaced by animal prints that were not easily identified. The once solid ground became damp and softer—signs that this side was rarely traveled by humans and more often by things that had no concern for comfortable roads.
Chen Baoli walked at the front, his iron staff in hand. His pace had not changed since leaving the city—steady, unhurried, like someone accustomed to long distances and unwilling to waste energy on unnecessary speed.
Behind him, the old man muttered.
"Why are there no stalls here?"
"Because no one is foolish enough to open a stall on a road leading to a place no one wants to visit," Chen Baoli replied without turning.
"A visionary could become very rich here."
"Or get eaten by wild beasts before opening day."
The old man fell silent, seriously considering that argument.
Behind them, Wuchen and Lin Xue'er walked side by side. Not too close, not too far—the kind of distance that formed naturally, without being decided by either of them.
"How long have you known your master?" Lin Xue'er asked suddenly.
Wuchen thought for a moment. "Almost four years."
"And you still don't know much about his past?"
"He doesn't talk much about it."
"But you never pushed."
"Pushing someone who doesn't want to talk only makes them close up even more," Wuchen said. "Better to wait until they choose to speak on their own."
Lin Xue'er studied his profile for a moment. "That's a patient way of thinking for someone your age."
"Or lazy."
She almost smiled. "Perhaps both."
By midday, they stopped at the edge of a small river that cut across their path.
The water was clear and cold—the kind found only far from human settlements, before human affairs had the chance to pollute it. Chen Baoli immediately sat on a large rock by the riverbank and took out his provisions without a word.
The old man dropped to his knees by the water and drank directly from his hands—a sight that made Lin Xue'er glance over with an expression that barely concealed her disgust.
"There's a cup in your pack," she said.
"River water tastes fresher straight from the hands," the old man replied, satisfied.
"River water also carries things you'd rather not know about."
"I've survived this long doing it my way."
"That's not an argument. That's luck."
The old man looked at her, then at Wuchen. "Kid, you've invited someone who likes to argue."
"She's right about the water," Wuchen said as he took out his own cup.
The old man shook his head. "Traitor."
Chen Baoli ate calmly, uninterested in the conversation. His gaze was fixed toward the southwest—the direction they would take after this break.
"After this river," he said without wasting time, "the terrain changes. It gets steeper. The vegetation becomes denser. And from there on, the chances of encountering wild beasts increase."
Everyone stopped what they were doing.
"How high are the chances?" Lin Xue'er asked.
"High enough to be cautious. Not high enough to panic." Chen Baoli looked at Wuchen. "You have experience with wild beasts."
"Black bear," Wuchen said.
"It's different here. More varied. And some of them won't retreat just because they're struck."
"What will make them retreat?"
Chen Baoli thought for a moment. "Fire. Loud noises they're not used to. And for certain types, strong internal pressure."
The old man glanced at Wuchen. "Unfortunately, two out of those three options aren't available to you, kid."
"I still have my fists," Wuchen said flatly.
"And that's what makes you both foolish and interesting."
They continued their journey past the river. Ahead, the forest waiting for them looked denser than before. Darker. Quieter in a way that was no longer comforting.
Chen Baoli did not slow his pace.
"Follow me. And don't make more noise than necessary."
— To be continued in Chapter 12 —