Han Yu’s heart beat faster. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

He thought of the hallucinations, the voices, the strange dreams and creeping dread. All of that... in exchange for safety from something worse?

"The illusions," he said slowly. "They’re the price?"

"A piece of peace. A sliver of their calm. A disturbance of mind in exchange for safety of soul." The owl’s voice grew quieter. "It is a fair trade. And they all recover in time."

Han Yu stared, words caught in his throat. "So you’re not the enemy..."

"No. I am the veil."

It was then the owl’s final revelation struck like thunder.

"Your superiors know this. They have always known."

Han Yu froze.

He had suspected it—suspected it ever since the peak heads remained silent and unmoved. But to hear it confirmed...

He exhaled sharply.

So this wasn’t some unknown horror.

It was a sanctioned one.

A guardian.

The hallucinations were a shield, not an attack.

He looked at the owl one last time.

"I understand," he murmured. "But why me? Why show yourself to me?"

The owl didn’t answer this time.

It simply turned back toward the forest, its form dissolving once again into moonlight and mist.

And Han Yu, silent and thoughtful, returned to the camp.

The fifth day dawned with a strange sense of anticipation.

The air was thinner, the canopy lighter, and the oppressive weight that had haunted the group since entering the marble forest had finally lifted. There were no whispered voices in the wind, no flickering illusions dancing at the edge of sight. For the first time in days, the disciples could breathe freely.

Han Yu walked silently at the rear of one of the outer flanks, Chitterfang curled around his shoulder like a shadow. Though the forest still loomed high above, its edges had thinned out, and the ground was no longer slick with strange glistening moss or lined with cracked marble roots. Step by step, the landscape began to change.

And then, just before evening, they crossed the final ridgeline of the forest.

The trees stopped abruptly, like soldiers in a perfect formation refusing to go further. Beyond was rolling terrain—a mix of tall hills, clustered rocks, and distant grasslands stretching under a golden sky.

The moment the last disciple stepped past the treeline, a wave of collective relief rippled through the group. Some laughed nervously. Others collapsed to their knees and wept. Even the elders looked worn, battle-hardened cultivators visibly shaken by the unnatural toll of the past few days.

Han Yu stood still for a long moment, glancing back over his shoulder at the shadowed forest.

No sign of the owl.

No whisper of wings.

Chitterfang chittered softly, shaking its little head. "Nothing. Not even a trace. It’s gone."

Han Yu nodded and turned forward again, thoughts turning inward.

He couldn’t stop thinking about that strange being. The owl—no, whatever it truly was—had left without a trace, and yet its presence lingered in his thoughts like smoke after fire. Not once had it harmed anyone. Not once had it lashed out. Yet its aura had pressed on his soul like the weight of mountains.

It was powerful. More than that—it was beyond measure.

The way it spoke, not just with intelligence, but with authority, as though its will had already shaped the very nature of the forest.

Han Yu didn’t know what kind of being could exist unnoticed in a place like this for centuries and yet be known—acknowledged—by the peak heads of one of the greatest sects in the continent.

He knew for certain now: even Dao Treading Realm cultivators couldn’t challenge that owl. If they could have, they would’ve said something, done something—delayed the expedition, taken the longer route, made offerings... anything. But they didn’t.

Because they couldn’t.

The peak heads had kept their silence because they understood.

Perhaps they’d encountered the owl before. Perhaps they’d bargained with it. Whatever the case, they had chosen to offer the disciples as payment—using their illusions and fear to shield them from something far worse.

Han Yu shivered slightly, remembering the owl’s cryptic words.

"There are more beings. Some malevolent. But as long as I watch, they won’t act."

At first, Han Yu had assumed it was referring to beasts—strange mutated monsters that sometimes roamed the deep wilds. Or perhaps hostile sects trying to spy or sabotage.

But now, with the weight of the encounter settled in his bones, he knew better.

It was speaking of beings. Entities not bound by flesh or bone.

Not cultivators. Not beasts. But something in between—or perhaps, something far above.

He found himself wondering again...

’What level of cultivation was that owl at?’

Was it part of the Immortal Ascension Realm? Or a remnant from an age before such classifications even existed? Could it be a spiritual god-beast that had long since severed ties with the mortal plane?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t ordinary.

And the fact that it could appear and vanish at will—read his thoughts—see through even soul barriers... It meant that the world Han Yu thought he understood was far vaster than he’d ever imagined.

It had even managed to hint the fact that Han Yu had once died. It was something no one knew. This was an important lesson for him, allowing him to learn that there were still beings who could see his reality even if it was concealed in the past.

Han Yu’s own journey as a Soul Cultivator was just beginning, but now he saw how shallow the rivers were where he once believed he’d been swimming deep.

One Month Later...

Time rolled forward like a slow-burning candle.

With the marble forest behind them, the expedition picked up speed. The terrain became less hostile, though not entirely without challenge. Hills became ridges, and rivers cut deep through the land like scars.

The group traveled through highlands and narrow ravines, passed ancient battlefields now overtaken by moss and root, and weathered a fierce rainstorm that lasted three days without pause. Through it all, Han Yu kept his eyes forward, his thoughts still trailing far behind in the silent depths of the forest.