Soft golden light filtered through the canopy, illuminating the trio as they ventured deeper into the forest. The aftermath of the ambush still weighed on Lan Zhuoran—his back ached where a blade had grazed him, and an unsettling tension coiled in his chest. Yin Feiyan, despite her injured arm, kept pace astride the borrowed mule. Meanwhile, Gao Tianrong, the archer who had intervened, walked confidently ahead, carefully testing the ground for hidden roots or rocky outcrops that might trip them up.
A hush lingered among the trees, but none of them felt at ease. The Black Wolf Syndicate mercenaries had likely scattered after their failed attack; however, experience told Gao Tianrong they would be back. Mercenaries this determined rarely gave up after one skirmish. Their unknown employer—a powerful faction or wealthy patron—would push them to continue the hunt.
"Keep an eye on the canopy," Gao Tianrong murmured, slowing his pace so Lan Zhuoran and Yin Feiyan could draw closer. "Sometimes these mercenaries use arboreal hides if the undergrowth is too open. A crossbow bolt from above can be lethal."
Lan Zhuoran nodded, scanning the branches. Sunbeams filtered down through thick foliage, forming shifting patterns on the mossy ground. His senses remained on alert, the Five-Winds Form reminding him to stay poised, breathing steadily to keep fear at bay. He noticed Yin Feiyan's knuckles turning white as she clutched the mule's reins—perhaps from pain or lingering nerves after the ambush.
"Is there a safe place we can stop before nightfall?" Yin Feiyan asked, her voice tight. She'd lost more blood than she cared to admit, and every jolt sent fresh pain through her arm.
Gao Tianrong pursed his lips. "Yes, actually. There's a hunting cabin about half a day's walk from here. I stayed there once. It's not much, but it's tucked away from main trails."
"That might be our best bet," Lan Zhuoran replied. With the Syndicate searching these woods, camping openly would be reckless.
They pressed on, turning off a faint path onto a narrower route. Brambles tugged at their clothes, and old tree roots formed natural tripwires. Gao Tianrong led the way, occasionally pausing to slice through clinging vines with a compact knife. Their progress was slow, but none complained—stealth was preferable to speed when enemies might lurk nearby.
Around midday, they reached a small stream meandering between lichen-covered rocks. The group paused to let the mule drink. Lan Zhuoran refilled a waterskin, noting how the cold water soothed his aching palms. He could still picture the last fight: the flash of steel, the crossbow bolt whizzing past, the stunned expression of the mercenary who took Gao Tianrong's arrow to the leg.
"We got lucky," he said quietly, passing the waterskin to Yin Feiyan. "If Gao hadn't shown up, I might have been skewered."
Yin Feiyan took a careful sip. "Yes," she agreed. "I owe him a debt… and so does this relic." She glanced at the tightly wrapped object nestled in the mule's saddlebag. The relic's mere existence felt like a living force, breathing tension into every moment.
Gao Tianrong overheard, giving them a brief nod from where he stood on a flat boulder. "Don't dwell on it too much. I was looking for trouble in these woods anyway," he said with a wry smile. "You just happened to provide it sooner than expected."
Yin Feiyan raised an eyebrow. "Looking for trouble?"
He shrugged. "Let's just say I have my own reasons to keep an eye on the Syndicate's movements. They've disrupted certain trade routes, and I'd prefer to see them fail. Teaming up with you is convenient—for now."
Lan Zhuoran studied Gao's guarded expression. Whatever the archer's motivations were, he seemed honest in his immediate intentions. Trust remained a delicate concept, but life on the run seldom afforded perfect allies. He found himself quietly grateful for Gao's confidence.
Soon, they moved on. The forest shifted from dense oak and maple to stands of evergreens that whispered in the light breeze. The trail grew less obvious; without Gao's guidance, they might have become disoriented among the uniform rows of tall pines. Their footsteps sank into a carpet of fallen needles, muffling any sound.
By late afternoon, the sky had begun to darken, heavy clouds rolling in from the north. The wind picked up, rustling branches overhead. Gao Tianrong pointed toward a hillside where a cluster of large boulders jutted out like broken teeth. "The cabin is just past that rise."
Relief and apprehension mixed in Lan Zhuoran's chest. They were almost safe for the night, but how long would safety last? Every time he imagined they might find respite, visions of the Black Wolf Syndicate crashing through the underbrush haunted him. Nonetheless, he pressed on, determined to keep Yin Feiyan and the relic away from harm.
At last, they reached a narrow clearing, where a small wooden cabin squatted beneath the looming pines. Thick moss covered the roof, and the single window was shuttered from within. Gao Tianrong approached with caution, a hand on his bow. After testing the door, he found it unlocked. The interior smelled of old timber and disuse. A rickety table and two chairs occupied one corner; a rust-stained iron stove filled another. No one had lived here for months, maybe years.
Yin Feiyan dismounted, leaning heavily on Lan Zhuoran. He helped her inside, settling her on one of the chairs. She cradled her injured arm, inhaling sharply at each movement. Despite the musty surroundings, it felt like a haven compared to the wild forest. Gao Tianrong checked corners and peered into a small loft overhead, confirming they were alone.
"This'll have to do," Gao said, stowing his bow in a corner. "At least it's out of the wind, and the walls are intact." He lit a candle stub he found in a dusty tin, its flickering flame casting jittery shadows on the warped floorboards.
Lan Zhuoran gently unwrapped part of Yin Feiyan's bandage. The exertions of the day had reopened her wound, though not severely. "We need to stop the bleeding," he murmured, rummaging through the small supply of herbs and cloth. "I'll prepare a poultice. Auntie Qiu taught me a bit of herbal medicine."
While he worked, Gao Tianrong dug around the old cabin for any serviceable firewood. He found a few half-rotten logs stacked outside under an overhang, likely left by some long-absent hunter. Soon, a small fire crackled in the iron stove, warming the cramped space. The heat was a blessing, banishing some of the forest's damp chill.
Once Yin Feiyan's wound was dressed, she took a sip of water and closed her eyes, exhaustion etched into every line of her face. Lan Zhuoran felt a surge of sympathy. Beneath her stoic exterior was someone bearing immense responsibility. The relic's significance—and the unstoppable forces chasing it—would break many individuals. Yet she persisted.
Gao Tianrong eased into the second chair, stretching out his legs. "We should decide on a route come morning," he said, drumming his fingertips against the table. "A direct path to the capital will be too dangerous with the Syndicate on high alert. I know a circuitous route—longer, but less likely to be patrolled."
"How much longer?" Lan Zhuoran asked.
"Possibly an extra week, maybe more," Gao replied. "We'll have to cross through some rugged terrain—mountain passes, old gorges, maybe even a labyrinth of caves if we want to avoid detection."
Lan Zhuoran glanced at Yin Feiyan, who rested her forehead in her uninjured hand. Another week or more on the run, with unknown threats lurking in every shadow. Yet rushing into a fight with the Syndicate might prove suicidal. He exhaled slowly, turning to Gao. "All right. We'll take whatever path gives us the best chance of survival."
Yin Feiyan looked up, eyes momentarily reflecting the candle's glow. "If I can get us to the capital, there's an ally waiting—someone my mentor trusted. He can guide me to a secure place for the relic."
Gao Tianrong nodded thoughtfully. "An ally, huh? Let's hope your trust isn't misplaced."
Silence settled again, the trio unified by mutual necessity. Outside, the wind rattled branches against the cabin's mossy walls, a reminder that danger loomed beyond. For tonight, at least, they had walls, warmth, and a tenuous alliance. But as dawn would soon remind them, respite was fleeting, and the path ahead remained treacherous.