Fatty Kui’s hands trembled slightly as he brought his tenth skewer of roasted meat to his mouth, his usual appetite diminished. "I swear, I saw someone dragging a chain through the trees. It sounded like bones clattering. I even heard someone whisper my name." 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

He paused, then added nervously, "Could’ve been a monkey, though."

Wu Shuan gave a dry chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "I saw something too. It wasn’t a monster or ghost. It was... my little sister. She looked like she used to before I left the village. She smiled and asked me why I never came back. That’s the part that scared me."

Han Yu frowned but said nothing for a long while.

He hadn’t seen anything.

Not a single illusion. Not even a flicker of sound that didn’t belong. Where others were unsettled and plagued by hallucinations, he sat untouched. His senses remained sharp, his perception unclouded.

He glanced around at the disciples surrounding the fire. Many were muttering prayers. Others had their backs pressed tightly to the Formation stone ring of the array. The fear was almost a tangible thing now—thickening the air, making each breath heavy.

But not for him.

Why?

His thoughts wandered back to his cultivation path. Not just qi refinement or body tempering, but his soul.

He thought back to the Emotion Severing Slash. It could break illusions and mental attacks, but it needed a target and he hadn’t even used it. He wondered if it was just his passive mental defense due to his soul cultivation.

’Could it be that?’

The hallucinations were clearly mind-affecting illusions, likely drawn from each person’s deepest fears or regrets. They targeted the spiritual sea, manipulated memories, and created projections strong enough to confuse even seasoned cultivators.

But his spiritual sea was stable. Reinforced.

And more importantly, guarded.

Even now, he could feel the faint pulse of soul qi surrounding his Soul core, coiled like a serpent ready to strike. It was subtle, but it might’ve been enough to block whatever influence was causing these illusions.

Han Yu tilted his head toward the forest, beyond the flickering array walls. The trees gleamed under moonlight, white and pristine. Too pristine. Too clean.

There was something unnatural about this forest. Something ancient. Not hostile, necessarily—but indifferent.

Like a tomb that didn’t care whether you left it or not.

He stood, stretching.

"You two should get some sleep," he said softly.

"Sleep?" Fatty Kui muttered. "In this place? I’d rather wrestle a Fire-Furred Tiger naked."

Wu Shuan smirked but nodded. "We’ll try. You?"

"I’ll walk the perimeter," Han Yu replied. "Not outside. Just inside the array. I want to get a better feel of the area."

Neither of them questioned it. They knew Han Yu’s instincts were rarely wrong.

As the two settled into their blankets, Han Yu began his slow walk around the inside edge of the protective array. Every step was measured. Every breath taken deliberately. He expanded his spiritual sense cautiously, brushing against the barrier’s edge.

He could feel it now—barely. A presence.

Not one, but many. Scattered throughout the forest like embers buried in snow.

They weren’t alive. At least not in the conventional sense. But they weren’t dead either.

Memories. Residues. Echoes of something once living.

Something had happened in this forest long ago. Something terrible enough to imprint the very land with lingering emotion.

And now, it was bleeding into the minds of those too unguarded to resist it.

Han Yu stopped by a tree and placed his hand on the bark. Cold. Smooth. Silent.

He closed his eyes.

And he whispered, "What are you hiding?"

But no voice answered. No vision came. No phantom appeared.

Just silence.

But silence was answer enough.

Something old was watching.

And it was waiting.

Han Yu continued his silent patrol along the inner edge of the camp’s protective array.

The air was still and dense, the kind of heavy quiet that made his every footstep feel louder than it was. The disciples behind the arrays were trying to sleep, but their nervous whispers and occasional mutterings drifted like smoke through the clearing.

He glanced up at the moon, its pale light filtering through the canopy of white-barked trees. Everything shimmered slightly with dew. The trees stood tall and motionless, but Han Yu couldn’t shake the feeling that they were... listening.

Suddenly, he stopped.

A flicker. A movement.

It came from the edge of his vision, deeper within the forest, just beyond the radius of the array.

His eyes narrowed, trying to pierce the darkened glade beyond. Whatever it was, it hadn’t made a sound. No snapped branches, no rustling leaves. Just a quiet impression of presence.

He knew better than to charge into something like this blindly. Whatever illusions haunted the forest were still active, and while he remained unaffected, that didn’t mean he was invincible.

’Still...’

Something about this felt different. He didn’t feel threatened—just... drawn.

It was subtle, that tug in his gut, like the edge of intuition brushing against the back of his mind. The kind of feeling that had saved his life more than once.

Han Yu touched the pouch at his waist and tapped lightly twice.

With a rustle and a small scurry, Chitterfang emerged from his shadow, fur sleek and beady eyes alert.

"Check the glade," Han Yu said in a low voice, pointing toward the area where he’d seen the flicker. "That direction, near that crooked tree with the twin trunks."

Chitterfang blinked once, then darted off soundlessly, his little limbs surprisingly nimble and silent over roots and stone.

Han Yu watched him go, then folded his arms and waited.

The rat had proven remarkably resistant to mental-based attacks.

Even during the worst of the illusion incidents, he had scampered around unaffected, nibbling on rations and eavesdropping as always. Han Yu had begun to suspect that the illusions only affected humans—or at least, beings with a certain level of spiritual cognition.

A few minutes later, Chitterfang came scampering back, ears perked and nose twitching.