Two tents—one at the edge where the men rested, and another at the center, shrouded in a faintly glowing formation. For Ning Xue.
He exhaled through his nose, counting the minutes. Three more hours, and those men would be deep enough in their slumber for their vigilance to wane. But waiting carried its own risks.
He could fight them—maybe dispatch them before they reacted—but Xu Mian had proven that not all enemies showed their true strength up front. He had no way of knowing what tricks these men had up their sleeves.
After three hours, he crept forward, weaving between the deep pockets of darkness the flickering firelight could not reach. The damp earth muffled his steps. His pulse beat a steady rhythm against his ribs, but he ignored it, keeping his focus on the task ahead.
The central tent stood just a few feet away, its faint luminescence casting a sickly glow over the surrounding dirt.
Zhen narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher the formation. But with his rudimentary knowledge, he could only make out the basics—wards for detection, barriers meant to contain whoever was inside. But the formation core… that was at the center.
Though, he had one advantage.
Sage's Daily Scroll of Heavenly, Earthly, and Mortal Insights
Target: Valid
Thankfully he had not used his golden finger today.
Zhen glanced around. The shadow-boy was guarding around the camp periphery. The dense forest around him was still, the only sounds being the rustling leaves. Satisfied, he took a deep breath and activated his skill.
Soon, golden words materialized before his eyes in the air.
Serpent's Warding Formation
Created by Luo Heng, offers a valuable layer of poisonous defense, five-minute impervious shield, and proximity alarm.
Formation Blueprint:
- Central Core - Black Mamba Fangs: Ninth Stage Black Mamba fangs with a small amount of diluted snake venom serve as the core.
- Thread Conduits: Ordinary thread, soaked in a mixture of diluted venom and a sticky sap, connects the nodes.
Weaknesses:
- Limited Protection: The defensive capabilities are significantly weaker and shorter-lived. It can only deflect or weaken very basic attacks.
- Crude Alarm: The scent-based alarm can be easily masked by other strong sme—.
Zhen absorbed the information in an instant. His mind unraveled the formation, peeling back the layers of its construction.
The threads—nearly invisible—were strung around the tent, channeling the formation's power. He could disrupt it, but it had to be precise. One mistake, and he would either trip the alarm or destroy the structure entirely.
Taking a slow, steady breath, Zhen scanned his surroundings, ears straining for the slightest hint of movement. Silence.
His qi flared at his fingertips, delicate as spider silk. He reached for one of the thread conduits, twisting a qi knot around it. His first attempt nearly backfired—the qi construct swelling too large, nearly bursting apart. His fingers trembled as he adjusted, making the thread finer, tighter.
Sweat beaded at his brow. Every shift in his breathing sent his heart hammering against his ribs, a reminder of how thin the margin for error was.
Once. Twice. Three times.
On his fourth attempt, the knot held. The flow of qi stilled.
Finally!
After his first success, Zhen moved quickly, tracing each line of the formation with increasing precision, weaving a delicate dam to sever its connections without damaging the core. His fingers ghosted over the threads, his speed rising as confidence took hold.
A sudden rustle in the underbrush made his heart thud.
Zhen froze, qi coiling at his fingertips, ready to lash out.
A small creature bolted from the foliage, scurrying away into the darkness. His pulse took another agonizing moment to settle.
His fingers resumed their work, tension tightening his shoulders as he reached the final threads near the tent flaps.
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He traced the thread with a fingertip, a flicker of purple qi rippling outwards. Crack. A hairline fracture appeared in the formation, the tent flap rippling slightly. Another pulse of qi, and the glow flickered before dimming completely in that one small area. The rest of the formation remained intact—no alarms tripped.
Zhen exhaled, listening. A whimper, barely audible, drifted from within.
He pulled the flap aside. The tent was dimly lit by a single flickering oil lamp, casting long, dancing shadows. Ning Xue was huddled on a pile of straw, her face pale and streaked with tears.
Lamplight flickered in her vigilant eyes as she watched the tent flaps. She shrank back against the tent pole, clutching a small, worn wooden stick as if it would help against a cultivator.
Zhen sighed. Of course. She’d been through a terrifying ordeal.
He stepped inside cautiously, his gaze never leaving her. For a brief moment, her expression eased, but just as quickly, her wariness returned. She must be thankful it wasn’t one of her captors…
She didn’t tense further, but she shifted backward, putting more space between them.
The fear still lingered in her eyes. Perhaps she didn’t remember him clearly from today’s chaotic events.
Slowly, Zhen raised hands to show he meant no harm. “Ning Xue,” he said softly, “It’s Li Zhen. From the morning. Boss Cui… she asked me to find you.”
Ning Xue's pupils dilated in the dim light. “Senior Brother, is it really you?” she whispered. But she didn’t wait for his answer before continuing. “Where is Aunt Cui? Why is she not with you? Is she waiting outsid—” Tens of words spilled from the girl in a rush, her voice thin with desperate hope.
But Zhen didn’t have time for false hope. “She’s gone,” Zhen interrupted gently.
Ning Xue's lips stopped mid-way, parted as if to speak but no words came out. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What!?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Zhen watched the shift in her expression, the flicker of hope faltering into disbelief.
He knew that look—the desperate grasp for an explanation that wouldn’t shatter her world. He had worn the same expression once, long ago, when a police officer had stood before him, face carefully neutral, and told him his mother had died in an accident.
Then, realization dawned on her face, swiftly replaced by denial. “No.” Her fingers tightened around the wooden stick. “No! She’s just waiting somewhere, right? You're lying, right? You just didn’t see her—” Her breath hitched, and she pushed herself upright as if she might bolt outside to look for herself.
Zhen clenched his jaw. The raw grief seeping through her echoed the emotions he had buried during the rescue.
His fingers curled into fists at his sides before he forced them to relax. He had been too focused, too determined to save her to let anything else take root. But now, her denial peeled something open inside him, and the sorrow he had pushed down surged forward.
His throat tightened, his breath faltered for just a moment before he steadied it. He closed his eyes briefly, drawing in a slow breath, forcing himself back into control. Now was not the time…
Instead of speaking, he pulled the mother talisman from his sleeve. The thick worn paper was smooth against his fingers as he held it out to her. “She gave me this to make sure you’re safe.”
Her hands trembled as she reached out, fingers brushing the talisman before she snatched it close to her chest, bowing her head over it. Tears welled in Ning Xue’s eyes. “Aunt Cui… she’s really…” Her voice trailed off, choked with grief. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.
Zhen's gaze lingered on the talisman in her hand. He had only meant to show it to her as proof. His fingers twitched, shifting slightly as if to take it back, but he stopped abruptly. Forget it, it had served its purpose…
Swish. His ears strained to make out any sound as he was sure that he heard something. His back straightened instinctively, muscles tightening as his eyes flicked toward the flaps.
After noticing nothing by a minute, Zhen turned back to Ning Xue. "We don’t have much time," he said, keeping his voice low. "We need to go. Now."
Ning Xue sniffled, quickly wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She straightened, forcing herself to her feet, her small frame still trembling but her resolve tightening in the dim glow.
Zhen watched her straighten herself. She was just a kid—too young to be caught up in this kind of nightmare. But at least she could focus on survival.
Zhen glanced toward the door again, his muscles. “Can you walk?” he asked quietly.
Zhen glanced toward the door again, his muscles coiled with readiness. “Can you run?” he asked quietly.
Ning Xue nodded, though her legs wobbled slightly as she stepped forward. “I… I think so.”
Zhen exhaled quietly, keeping his voice low. "We’ll move through the back, stay close to the me, and—"
A soft rustle of tent flaps made him freeze. His stomach clenched instinctively. That was from the second tent. Zhen clenched his jaw, barely suppressing a curse. Of course. That earlier sound must also be from Luo Heng's tent. Just their luck.
Without a word, Zhen lifted a hand, pressing his fingers to his lips in a silent shushing motion.
Ning Xue stared at him, eyes wide with confusion. Her lips parted slightly, as if about to ask something, but she hesitated.
Then it hit Zhen. The reason he'd noticed the sound so quickly—his senses were still heightened from the tension. A mortal wouldn’t have even caught it. He swallowed, forcing himself to focus.
Zhen leaned in, barely shifting his weight, his breath a whisper against the air. "Luo Heng must have woken up. If he looks inside, we’re done."
A slow, measured crunch of twigs broke the silence outside.
Ning Xue sucked in a sharp breath, her shoulders jerking up before she slapped a hand over her mouth. "Senior Brother… do you have a plan?" Her words barely slipped past her fingers.
His lips twitched, the ghost of a grimace tugging at the corner. A plan? He'd planned to run, scatter their tracks, and hope for the best.
Before he could speak, another set of footsteps scuffed against the dirt, lighter, more careless.
The mocking voice of shadow-boy rang out. "Brother Luo, are you here to take a little peek?"