Zhou Han slipped through the narrow alleys, each step measured, his body tense like a bow ready to snap. Explosions echoed in the distance like thunderclaps, yet nothing seemed to disturb the city's apparent calm. A few market stalls remained open, but most merchants had vanished into their homes, locking their doors behind them. The streets, usually bustling with life, were nearly deserted. Only a few onlookers dared to step outside, watching the distant chaos with the vain hope that it would not reach them.

  People were far too accustomed to violence. When the sounds of battle grew closer, they knew it was wiser to retreat, to hide. Attacks had become part of the scenery, a routine for those living in this city where war and chaos were the only constants.

  Zhou Han, however, did not feel like he belonged here. The Zhao Clan was nothing more than a bad memory, a chapter no one wanted to reread. He had stolen what he needed to escape, but he knew his flight wouldn’t last forever. Clutching the spatial ring of the clan’s venerable elder, he felt the weight of the powerful artifact—an object that held an immense wealth of precious resources.

  "This could give me another chance. If I find a quiet place… maybe, just maybe, I can rebuild everything."

  The explosions sounded closer now, but Zhou Han was already far from the clan’s district. The city had grown used to such tremors, and those near the center hurried into their homes for safety. The few who remained outside did not linger, rushing toward secure shelters. The city felt both still and tense, a heavy silence hanging over the streets, interrupted only by the distant echoes of war.

  Zhou Han stopped for a moment behind a crumbling old building, panting, his mind racing toward the future.

  "I still have time… I must escape. I refuse to die today."

  He knew the city would recover from the attack, as it always had, but for him, this was the end of an era. His survival now depended on his ability to escape the iron grip of his former allies—and on the luck he could find with the stolen resources. The ring, with its hidden treasures, could be the key to a new life.

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  He pressed on, scanning the deserted streets, weaving through dark alleyways and abandoned avenues. A strange silence loomed, an unsettling tension hanging in the air. He knew he wasn’t safe yet.

  Finally, he stopped again, breathless, sweat beading on his forehead. He was putting more distance between himself and the Zhao Clan, uncertain if the alarm had been raised yet. The weight of the spatial ring was heavy in his palm, a burden he couldn’t ignore. But he knew he couldn’t afford to linger. He had to keep moving, keep hiding. His legs felt sluggish, his thoughts muddled. He hadn’t yet grasped the full gravity of his actions. Stealing the ring was an opportunity, but also a danger that could lead to his downfall.

  Leaning against a wall, he tried to catch his breath. The deserted street around him gave him a false sense of security. He closed his eyes for a moment, daring to believe that everything would be fine—that he could simply vanish into the city and never be found.

  But then, a broken, furious cry shattered the silence behind him:

  “Thief! Come back here!”

  The shout sent a jolt of fear through him. Zhou Han froze. This wasn’t just any cry—it carried a fury, a hatred that chilled him to the bone. He spun around, searching for the source, but the alley behind him was empty. He couldn’t pinpoint the direction.

  The voice rang out again, closer this time. Zhou Han had no time to think. The sound of hurried footsteps reached his ears, and a menacing presence loomed behind him. He turned sharply, eyes darting around in panic, but still saw no one. He hadn’t yet realized that he had been followed—that a Zhao Clan member had been tracking him ever since he had stolen the ring.

  Panic surged through him. He turned on his heels and ran. His legs trembled beneath him, but adrenaline kept him moving. He dashed through the twisting alleys, seeking refuge in the shadows. But with every turn, every frantic step, the presence behind him grew stronger. The idea that he was being hunted sent a fresh wave of terror through him.

  Zhou Han ran without stopping, his breath ragged and uneven. The city’s noises still filled the air, but he knew—deep down—that each step took him farther from the Zhao Clan’s grasp. His heart pounded, each beat echoing like a war drum in his chest. He hadn’t expected to be pursued, but now, slowing down was not an option.

  The footsteps behind him were getting closer. The angry voices confirmed what he feared: he had been spotted.

  “Thief!”

  The voice belonged to a Zhao Clan member. Zhou Han hadn’t seen when he had been discovered, but there was no time to wonder. He had to run. He had to escape.

  His legs burned, but adrenaline kept him going. He plunged deeper into the city, hoping to lose his pursuers in the maze of alleys. Yet, at every corner, at every turn, the chase intensified. They weren’t giving up.

  As he rounded a sharp bend, he spotted two figures standing ahead. Men. They walked calmly, seemingly indifferent to the chaos unfolding around them.

  In his panicked state, Zhou Han felt like a trapped animal. But maybe… maybe they could help him. Maybe he could convince them to shelter him, to hide him.

  “Help me! I’m being chased! They want to kill me!” he cried, his voice shaking with desperation.

  He nearly threw himself in front of them, clinging to the hope that one of them might offer him protection.

  But deep down, a small voice whispered that he might still be abandoned here, alone in the street, with no one to save him.