At the Mithryl Vein Mine, dawn broke with urgency.
Wei Jian stood at the forest's edge, his gaze cold as steel. Before him, a dozen trackers knelt, their heads bowed. These were the Wei Clan's finest—hunters who could follow a trail through rain, wind, or blood.
One of them, an older man named Lao Ren, raised his head. "The fugitive's tracks are clear. He is exhausted but moving fast. He has entered the deep woods."
Wei Jian nodded. "How far ahead?"
Lao Ren touched the earth, feeling the disturbed soil between his fingers. "Not more than six hours. If we push hard, we will close the gap by midday."
Wei Jian's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Then we begin now."
The hunters moved quickly, their steps soundless.
Wei Jian's lips curled into a cruel smile.
Snow thought he had escaped. He was wrong.
---
In the forest, Snow moved with purpose.
He had followed Shen's advice, veering west to throw off any pursuit. The morning sun filtered through the canopy, casting long golden beams through the misty woods.
His body ached, his wounds throbbed, but he pushed on.
Then—
A sound.
Soft, but unmistakable.
A footstep.
Snow's pulse quickened. He slipped behind a tree, his breathing slow and controlled.
Another step. Closer this time.
Snow drew his stolen sword, his grip firm. He would not go down without a fight.
The hunt was still going on.
Snow crouched low, hidden among the thick underbrush, his breath steady despite the pain coursing through his body. His body exhausted, his muscles burned, but his mind remained sharp. The Wei Clan's trackers were closing in. He could hear them—their footsteps careful, their movements precise. Hunters born and bred.
But tonight, they were the prey.
A single tracker moved ahead of the others, his shortbow drawn, eyes scanning the forest floor. Tracking me. Good. Come closer.
Snow waited until the man was within reach before striking. He lunged from the shadows, his blade slicing through the tracker's throat before the man could even gasp. Blood sprayed across the damp earth as Snow caught the body, lowering it soundlessly.
One down.
But he hadn't been quiet enough. A second tracker appeared, his sword already drawn. Snow twisted, dodging the wild slash before driving his knee into the man's gut. The tracker staggered, gasping. Snow didn't let him recover. His blade found its mark—a quick, brutal thrust.
Two down.
A sharp whistle echoed through the trees. The alarm. They know.
No more hiding. Snow gripped his sword tighter, his heart steady as the rest of the hunting party closed in. Let them come.
Leaves rustled. Shadows moved. The Wei Clan's men were circling him.
Three. No—four.
They thought they had him trapped. Fools.
Snow didn't wait. He attacked.
His first target barely had time to react before Snow's sword cleaved through his chest. The man crumpled without a sound.
The others struck fast. A spear-wielding tracker lunged, aiming for Snow's ribs. He dodged left, parrying the attack before sweeping low, his blade cutting clean through the man's leg. The tracker collapsed, screaming. Three down.
Two left.
One charged, swinging a curved blade. Snow sidestepped, letting the man's momentum carry him forward. A swift strike to the back of the neck, and the tracker fell, his body limp before it hit the ground.
The last one hesitated.
Snow met his gaze. No mercy.
He surged forward, closing the gap in a heartbeat. His sword plunged deep. The tracker choked on his own breath—then stilled.
Five dead. More than half the hunting party eliminated.
But Snow had no time to savor the victory.
A deep voice cut through the night.
"Enough."
Snow turned.
Wei Jian stood at the edge of the clearing, his presence suffocating. His eyes burned with fury, his aura a storm barely contained. The few surviving trackers flanked him, their hands trembling.
"You've taken five of mine," Wei Jian said, his voice low and deadly. "Impressive."
His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. "But you are alone."
Snow didn't answer. He was already moving.
Wei Jian's aura flared. The earth seemed to tremble beneath his fury. Then he struck.
Snow barely dodged. The force of the attack split the ground where he had stood. Too strong. Too fast.
Snow turned and ran.
Arrows whistled past him. The forest blurred as he sprinted, his body screaming in protest. Too many. I won't make it.
Then—the ravine.
A sheer drop, the river roaring below. No choice.
Snow jumped.He would rather take his chance than be captured. He knew he would be tortured and killed so as to make an example if he was captured
The world spun. Rocks tore at his clothes. His body slammed against the slope, pain exploding through him.
Then—water.
The icy river swallowed him whole.
The current seized him, dragging him beneath the surface. He fought, lungs burning, limbs sluggish. The river pulled him forward, away from the Wei jian reach for now
Above, furious shouts echoed.
Snow broke the surface, gasping. He barely managed to grip a low-hanging branch, hauling himself onto the muddy riverbank.
For a long moment, he lay there, the forest spinning around him. Then he remembered—Mei and Shen.
Their warning. Their instructions.
Go west first, then south. Avoid the roads. Don't let them predict your path.
Snow forced himself up. His body screamed in protest, but he ignored it.
He turned toward the deeper forest—the unknown.
And he kept moving.
Snow's body moved on instinct, every step fueled by sheer willpower. The damp forest loomed around him, the towering trees whispering with the wind. His soaked clothes clung to his skin, and his wounds ached with each movement, but stopping was not an option. Not yet.
The Wei Clan was behind him. Their pursuit had been broken at the ravine, but they would regroup. They would keep hunting.
He needed a place to rest. Somewhere hidden. Somewhere safe.
The forest stretched endlessly before him, dark and silent. The ground was uneven, roots and jagged rocks lying in wait to trip careless travelers. Snow pressed forward, his sharp eyes scanning for shelter.
Then he saw it.
A cave, half-hidden behind a curtain of vines.
Snow pushed through the foliage and stepped inside. The air was cool, the scent of damp stone filling his lungs. It wasn't deep—just a hollow carved into the rocky hillside—but it would do.
He could rest here.