The next day, Han Yu woke early.
His bones ached from sleeping against stone, but the quiet air was a relief. No dart traps. No fire runes. No spirit lizards attempting to establish territory rights on his face.
He yawned, stretched, and took a small sip from his water pouch, then pressed forward through the dim tunnels.
The path was sloped upward now, a sign he was nearing the upper reaches of the northern cave system. He moved with practiced caution, eyes scanning the shadows and glyphs glowing softly from his chalk markings. One wrong step in these tunnels could lead to a week-long conversation with the underside of a boulder.
And then—he stopped.
Something shifted. Subtle. Almost imperceptible.
A flicker of presence.
Han Yu narrowed his eyes and scanned the rocky corridor behind him.
Nothing.
The stone lay undisturbed, the air thick but still. The faint humming of ambient spiritual energy swirled lazily like always. No sound of movement, no sign of another soul.
