After the river, Chen Baoli had not been lying about the terrain.
The slope came gradually but steadily — the kind of incline that didn't feel heavy at first, yet slowly accumulated into a silent fatigue that attacked the calves and thighs after an hour of walking. On both sides, the trees grew denser and taller. The canopy above their heads thickened until sunlight only pierced through in thin, swaying fragments that followed the movement of the wind.
The sounds changed here.
In Yellow City, there were human sounds — merchants, conversations, cart wheels, children. On the path earlier, there had been silence accompanied by wind and the rustling of leaves. But here, beneath this dense canopy, there was yet another kind of sound.
The sound of a forest that was watching.
Birdsong that suddenly stopped. The rustling of bushes that wasn't caused by the wind. The sound of small footsteps that halted exactly when their own movement stopped.
Lin Xue'er's spiritual aura extended outward in thin threads — not to attack, but like antennae sensing the surroundings.
"Something is following us," she said softly.
"Two of them. Medium-sized. From the left," said Chen Baoli without turning his head or slowing his pace.
"What kind of animals?" asked Wuchen.
"Probably large forest cats. They usually just follow and observe. They rarely attack directly if the group has more than two people."
"Rarely," the old man repeated. "Not never."
"Correct."
"Very reassuring information."
"I didn't promise to reassure you," Chen Baoli said. "I promised to escort you to your destination."
They continued walking. The sound of the followers from the left persisted for nearly half an hour — always at the same distance, always stopping when they stopped, always moving again when they moved.
Then, without warning, the sound vanished.
Wuchen glanced toward the bushes on the left. There was no movement. No sound.
"Did they leave?" asked Lin Xue'er.
"Or they found something more interesting," said Chen Baoli. "Or they've decided we're too much trouble to deal with."
"I choose to believe the second option," said the old man. "It's better for my ego."
Evening began to fall when they found a sufficiently open spot to spend the night. A large jutting rock formed a natural wall on one side. In front of it was fairly flat ground. Two large trees on the right and left created a sort of natural roof.
Chen Baoli assessed the location for a moment, then nodded. "Here."
They began setting up camp. Chen Baoli gathered firewood. Wuchen cleared the area. Lin Xue'er started a fire in a way that made the old man stand watching with his mouth slightly open.
"You can make fire without stones or rubbing sticks," the old man said.
"Basic spiritual technique," Lin Xue'er replied flatly.
"In the mountains, I have to rub sticks for ten minutes every morning," said Wuchen. "I will never forgive that for the rest of my life."
"You should've asked me from the beginning," the old man said defensively.
"You said it was part of the training."
"And it was part of the training."
"Heating yourself up from the frustration of rubbing sticks is not a recognized training method anywhere."
The old man opened his mouth to retort, but Chen Baoli calmly cut in, "Eat. Tomorrow will be harder than today."
The fire blazed. Food was eaten. And the sky above the canopy, which leaked in several spots, revealed stars brighter than any that could be seen from inside the city.
Yet at the edge of the darkness surrounding their camp, something was still moving.
Far away. Faint. Not approaching.
But it was there.
— To be continued in Chapter 13 —