“Will you travel in your current form, Yueyin, or shrink yourself into a smaller shape?” Wu Tian asked as they prepared to depart for Lan Tzi Village. His voice carried a spark of excitement, his eyes bright with anticipation. Ever since Yueyin had confirmed the existence of other spirit cultivators, a new fire had ignited within him. Yueyin hesitated, her expression thoughtful. “Hufh… I’m not sure. What do you think, Wu Tian?” Her gaze met his, steady and searching. For a moment, Wu Tian faltered, caught off guard by the intensity of her eyes. Then he laughed lightly, shrugging. “It’s up to you, Yueyin. I’ll accept whatever form you choose.” Yueyin straightened, her voice firm with conviction. “I want to walk across the lands of Han with my own feet. I’ll remain in my forest-spirit form, just as I am now.” Wu Tian grinned, unable to contain his joy. “Perfect! That means I’ll have a beautiful companion by my side throughout the journey!” Without realizing it, he pulled Yueyin

Wu Tian flinched violently when a hand landed on his shoulder. His heart leapt into his throat, and he spun around, eyes wide. “Yueyin! What was that for? You nearly scared me to death!” he hissed, his voice louder than he intended. “Shhh…” Yueyin pressed a finger to her lips, her eyes sharp with warning. She tugged at his sleeve, pulling him back into the shadow of the trees. The dense foliage swallowed them, the scent of damp bark and crushed leaves filling the air. Just beyond, Zhou Chen paused mid-step. The boy’s head jerked toward the sound, his gaze sweeping the path. His eyes darted left and right, searching for the source of the disturbance. But the forest revealed nothing. Wu Tian peered through the branches, his breath caught in his chest. Zhou Chen’s face was pale, drained of its usual arrogance. The swagger that had once defined him was gone, replaced by a nervous tension that made his shoulders stiff and his movements jerky. “What’s wrong with that demon child?”

“Yueyin is Father’s spirit cultivator, the one who always protected him and taught him how to cultivate,” Wu Tian explained firmly, his voice echoing in the tense chamber. “Spirit cultivator?” Wu Cao repeated, bewildered. His brows knitted together as he tried to process the words. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Wu Tian’s gaze hardened. “That’s because spirit cultivators are never spoken of. Cultivators are too arrogant to admit their strength comes from the guidance of spirits. They bury the truth beneath pride.” The air grew heavy, the silence broken only by the faint rustle of curtains stirred by the evening wind. Yueyin’s eyes softened as she turned toward Wu Jian. Her tone was gentle, almost tender, so different from the sharp defiance she had shown in the Forbidden Forest. “Wu Jian… you look older,” she said softly, her voice carrying a note of sorrow. Wu Jian’s shoulders sagged, his stern face shadowed by regret. “I am sorry, Yueyin. I never meant to cast you asi