The second day began with thicker dew and colder air.
Wuchen woke before the others—a habit formed back in the mountains, where dawn was the best time to train before the temperature rose. He performed his horse stance exercises at the edge of the camp, still shrouded in thin mist.
Silent. Steady. Consistent.
One full stick of incense.
When he finished, the old man was already sitting and heating water for tea. Chen Baoli stood ready, like someone who had never truly slept. Lin Xue'er appeared last, her hair neatly tied.
Yet Wuchen noticed that this morning, Lin Xue'er sat a little closer than yesterday when they ate breakfast.
He chose not to comment on it.
They had been walking for two hours when the first problem appeared.
Not from the front. Not from behind.
From above.
The first sound was the sharp snap of a branch—too loud to be caused by the wind. Then a large shadow moved through the tree canopy at an unnatural speed.
Chen Baoli stopped. His hand lifted his iron staff.
"Tree tiger," he said quietly. "One. Adult."
"How do we know?" the old man whispered.
"From the fact that no other animal here moves like that up there."
"Ah. Makes sense."
The shadow above moved again. This time it circled— a predator determining the best angle.
"It will come down from the east," Wuchen said suddenly.
Everyone glanced at him.
"How do you know?" Lin Xue'er asked.
"From its movement pattern. Every circle it makes shifts slightly eastward. And the branches it's stepping on are getting lower."
Chen Baoli looked at him for a moment, then gazed eastward.
Three seconds later, the massive body leaped down.
Exactly from the east.
The tree tiger was enormous. Its fur was darker than a normal tiger's, with stripes that were almost black. Its eyes were yellowish-green, glowing even under the dim canopy. It landed without a sound—its paws absorbing the impact like liquid filling a container.
Then it stared at them. Not attacking immediately. Assessing.
Lin Xue'er slowly released her nuraga aura. A subtle yet clear pressure spread outward.
The tiger took one step to the left—gauging the source of the pressure.
Then its eyes shifted to Wuchen.
And there they stopped.
Wuchen stood motionless. No aura. No nuraga pressure. No signal of power that a predator's instinct could read. To the tiger, Wuchen was the only one who looked... empty.
And emptiness, to a predator, was often interpreted as weakness.
The tiger chose Wuchen as its target.
It lowered its body. Muscles tensed beneath its fur. Its tail went straight.
The old man drew a sharp breath. "Kid—"
"I know," Wuchen said.
The tiger lunged.
Wuchen did not retreat.
His foot shifted to the right—half a step, no more. His body ducked at the exact moment the tiger's left claw passed over his shoulder. The wind from the attack whipped his hair and clothes.
Then, from that lowered position, Wuchen unleashed a punch.
Not at the head. Not at the neck.
At the lower part of the tiger's ribcage, right as its body was suspended in the air and could not change direction.
**Bukk!**
The tiger landed heavily, slightly off balance. It turned its head quickly with a low growl. Not a threat— a warning.
Wuchen stood his ground. He did not pursue. He did not retreat.
The two stared at each other.
Ten seconds. Twenty seconds.
The tiger reassessed the situation. The target that looked empty had struck in a way that was anything but empty.
It took one step backward. Then another. Then it turned and disappeared into the bushes without any drama.
"Even a tiger can be taught reason," the old man said.
"Not taught," Chen Baoli corrected. "It simply made a logical calculation."
Wuchen picked up his backpack. "Humans are predators too. We just talk more about morality."
The old man chuckled softly. "Ha! That's the best sentence you've ever said."
They continued their journey.
But that night, when the first watch was almost over and Chen Baoli touched the shoulder of the drowsy old man—something was detected from the north.
Not sound. Not movement.
Pressure.
Very faint. Almost nonexistent. But enough to be felt by two people whose levels were far above average.
"Two people," the old man whispered after sensing it. "They're monitoring, not attacking."
"Heavenly Iron Clan?" Chen Baoli asked quietly.
"Or Bai Wuji."
A brief silence.
"Let them be," Chen Baoli said. "They won't make a move tonight."
Nearby, Wuchen lay with his eyes closed and steady breathing.
But his ears caught every word.
And his mind, far from sleep, was already processing one question he could not ignore:
Whoever was following them tonight—they already knew where this group was heading.
And Dragon Bone Valley was only one more day away.
— To be continued in Chapter 15 —