They passed beneath.
He didn't see their faces, but from the rhythm of their movements, the way they shifted weight armed. Experienced enough to know better than to speak.
One of them paused. A footstep didn't fall where it should have. Someone looked up.
Li Wei didn't shift, didn't blink. His breathing was flat. Muscles locked in balance. The wind above creaked a branch. The group moved on.
More time passed.
No more footsteps. No voices. Just wind.
He stayed in the tree until his legs began to ache from the stillness. The sun had begun its slow descent by then, casting long shadows between the trunks. The warmth of midday had faded, replaced by a faint chill clinging to the undergrowth.
Only then did Li Wei move.
Silently, he descended the tree, careful not to snap branches or disturb too much of the bark. Once on the ground, he didn't hesitate. He had no clear destination—just a direction: away from the clearing, deeper into the forest.
His pace was steady. Neither fast nor slow. Every ten breaths, he stopped. Listened.
No voices. No footsteps. No signs of pursuit.
The pines stretched on endlessly, quiet as stone. Their needled branches cut off most of the light, making the forest dim even while the sun still hung in the sky.
He kept walking.
With Bone Whisper Art quietly active beneath the soles of his feet, Li Wei felt it—faint disturbances in the earth. Someone was approaching. The gait was lighter than most, but not careful enough to be unaware. They weren't sprinting, but they weren't meandering either. Headed his way.
He shifted course immediately, weaving deeper through the pines. Steps quiet, pace steady. No wasted movement.
But the footsteps followed.
Still there. Same distance. Matching his changes in direction with slight delay. Not fast enough to overtake, but close enough that it wouldn't be long.
He paused behind a cluster of thick roots, crouching low, breath shallow. Waited.
The pursuer adjusted their pace again—subtle correction. Still coming. Too steady. Too persistent. Not random.
Not losing them.
Li Wei's eyes narrowed.
If escape wasn't possible, then striking first was safer.
Quietly, he concentrated on his bone dust pouch.
Li Wei's fingers flexed slightly, knuckles barely shifting.
The bone sand at Li Wei's feet shifted with purpose. Not as mist or threadlike trails—but as weight and mass. At his silent command, the grains pressed together, layer by layer, grinding into form.
Three long spikes rose from the ground in a fluid, deliberate motion. There was no shimmer, no flickering light—just dense, pale bone, forged hard from his Qi.
With a twitch of will, he fired.
Three spikes lanced forward in quick succession—no sound, no wasted motion. The first passed cleanly through empty space as the target rolled away. The second clipped bark as the man twisted again.
The third?
A shield materialized mid-air—metal, round, hastily summoned. Not conjured but pulled directly from the man's storage pouch in a panicked motion. The artifact wasn't ornate—just a broad-faced disc of reinforced alloy. It snapped into place in time, but only just. The spike struck dead-centre.
There was no explosion, no dramatic burst. Just a dull sound—metal groaning under strain as the bone spike drove into its surface like a nail into soft wood. It didn't punch through, but it embedded deep enough to stick. The force alone staggered the man a half step backward.
Li Wei's eyes narrowed.
He hadn't expected the spikes to penetrate, but seeing them drive into reinforced steel at that range—
"So even the refined dust, carries that much force…"
It was promising.
The man, face drawn, stepped back again. His eyes flicked between the bone sand still circling Li Wei's position and the embedded spike quivering in his shield.
Then—the man turned and ran.
It wasn't a feint, or a tactical retreat. His footing shifted, weight lowered, and he pivoted hard, sprinting into the trees with all the desperation of someone who knew they had no chance in a drawn-out fight.
Li Wei blinked.
For a brief second, he was still.
He hadn't expected it. The other cultivator had fended off one strike—barely. But to give up so quickly? He'd thought there would be at least one more exchange.
The bone sand stirred faintly around his feet, still dense and ready. It was excellent for defense. Movement? That was more complicated.
If he chased now, the ring of sand would collapse behind him. Recalling and compressing it back into storage would take a few moments—not long, but long enough to lose the advantage. And if someone else appeared during that time…
His eyes narrowed as he watched the shrinking figure vanish between the pines.
A calculated decision.
Letting him go meant one less unknown variable nearby. But it also meant giving up the possibility of loot—or removing a potential future threat.
The bone sand at his feet spun once in a slow ring, awaiting his command.
Li Wei clicked his tongue lightly, unsure.
Li Wei gave a faint exhale through his nose and raised one hand. With a practiced flick of his fingers, the bone sand around him began to shift.
It moved in a controlled spiral, curling back toward him in fine, purposeful streams—grain by grain, it flowed into the mouth of his storage pouch, vanishing without a trace.
He kept his eyes on the direction the man had fled, but no sounds followed. The cultivator was gone.
"Tch." Li Wei clicked his tongue softly again. "Would've been nice to get his pouch."
Even if the man hadn't carried anything rare, a storage pouch was always worth something. And more than that—his skeleton would've been a treasure. A fully-formed Foundation Establishment body was rich in Qi, the bones tempered and strengthened over years of cultivation. A single femur could yield a dozen Grade-1 pills if processed properly.
"Could've harvested enough to last me through late Foundation Establishment," Li Wei muttered under his breath, gaze lingering on the path the man had fled down.
But the moment was gone. He turned back to the clearing and began drawing the bone sand back in, the grains pulling from the ground with practiced fluidity. It took only moments, but long enough for a missed opportunity to settle in his chest like a stone.
Efficient retreat. Irritatingly so.
He stored the bone sand, adjusting the weight of his storage pouch, and moved on—further into the pine-covered interior.
Li Wei walked for a long time.
He didn't rush. Each step was measured, each pause deliberate. This wasn't a sprint—it was preparation. He wasn't looking for a fight, or even for prey. What he needed was a place to disappear. Somewhere out of the way. Somewhere that could serve as a base for the next three years.
His goal was simple: to survive.
And for that, he needed shelter.
His mind worked through the logic as he moved. The basin was massive, but not infinite. Its centre would be the most dangerous—too many cultivators started there, and the first weeks would be blood-soaked chaos. The middle zone would thin out over time, but it was also filled with opportunists. Hunters.
That left the rim. The outer edges of the crater. If one wanted to disappear, there were only a few statistically safer spots. Far from landmarks. Off the beaten terrain. Places that didn't look useful.
Li Wei moved steadily, the pine-needled floor soft beneath his feet, muting each step. The deeper he travelled from the basin's centre, the quieter the world became. The chaotic energy of the opening had long since faded into memory—replaced by an eerie stillness, the forest holding its breath.
The first potential site appeared about an hour in: a natural ridge of twisted stone that jutted from the forest floor like the spine of a buried beast. At first glance, it seemed promising—raised, defensible, with a natural alcove near the base. But Li Wei didn't step any closer. The ridge's stark shape made it too visible. Any cultivator passing through would notice it. Worse, the ground around it showed signs of old cultivation—stiffened earth, charred patches where talismans had likely been triggered before. Someone else might have the same idea.
He moved on.
Further along, he came to a hollow between three leaning trees. A clearing, shallow and wide, with a dead pine slumped against the far slope like a broken spear. Its roots had been ripped from the earth during a past storm, leaving a natural shelter beneath.
Li Wei crouched, observing from the shadows. Too exposed. From a distance, the downed tree was a marker—easy to remember, easy to spot. He pictured a disciple looking for shelter or a hunting perch. They'd stop here.
No good.
He pressed onward, deeper toward the edge of the basin.
The air cooled slightly, the light shifting as the sun dropped behind the jagged rim. He paused at a slope where water had once flowed—evident from the smooth, moss-covered stone and a cluster of green reeds pushing through the soil. Just ahead, a narrow pool shimmered with clear surface water.
Li Wei didn't approach.
He watched the breeze ripple across the pool's edge. Springs were valuable. Too valuable. Even if no one was nearby now, someone would be, eventually. A group might try to claim it. Or worse, trap it. The area was flat, and the soil soft—easy to leave tracks, harder to hide them.
He memorised the location and moved on.
As the day wore on, the shadows deepened, stretching long fingers through the trees. The terrain became more broken—uneven ground, old roots, fallen branches. It slowed his pace but narrowed the options. Places like this were less attractive. Less comfortable. Which meant they might be safe.