Bai Lin raced through the depths of the dense forest.
The mist between the trees hung low, like layers of slowly sliding gray shadows. The heavy, damp air clung to his skin, carrying the stench of rotting wood. His breathing was extremely light—not deliberate, but a state his body had naturally adjusted to, as if avoiding something that could be awakened by "sound."
He moved quickly, yet his footsteps made no noise.
He dared not stop.
The presence of the pursuers felt like ice needles pressed against his spine. Even without looking back, he could still sense that "gaze"—not human eyes, but some deeper perception that saw him as a dissected corpse laid bare.
He clenched his fingertips, where faint black vein remnants still lingered.
The corpse vein had nearly devoured him last night. His body had not fully recovered, but he could no longer use that power. At least, not now.
—Otherwise, if he lost control, the black mist would notice him faster than the pursuers ever could.
Suddenly, the forest ahead became unnaturally still.
Bai Lin's heart tightened.
He lowered his breathing, pressing his back against a tree trunk, listening to his surroundings.
No wind.
No insects.
No distant beast cries.
This stretch of forest had suddenly been "emptied" of all signs of life.
He knew what this meant—
Someone had suppressed the natural sounds of the entire forest.
The sect's pursuers had arrived.
Just as Bai Lin prepared to change direction and flee, an almost imperceptible "golden thread" slipped through the gaps in the leaves to his right.
In that instant, his pupils contracted sharply.
That wasn't light.
That was—
A crack.
An extremely short, extremely narrow "rift-layer trace" that only a rare few could see.
He could see it, but he knew even more clearly—to trigger a rift-layer while projecting spiritual power required a very specific mental technique. An extraordinarily specific one.
In other words—
Among the pursuers was someone with an abnormal ability.
Not an ordinary cultivator.
The mist was gently stirred.
A voice drifted over:
"…I've caught the scent."
It wasn't any of the pursuers' voices Bai Lin had heard before.
The tone was unnaturally soft, as if the speaker had no air in their chest and had to rely on something else to vibrate and produce sound.
Another voice followed:
"He's not far. Press him a little more—he'll move."
Bai Lin's knuckles tightened slightly, his breath as flat and cold as a slab of rock.
This wasn't a routine patrol sent by the sect.
From the very first sentence, he could tell: these people weren't here for the "Great Fugitive Hunt Decree." They were here for him—Bai Lin himself.
But there was one thing he didn't understand.
He hadn't left any obvious traces.
All along the way, he had suppressed the fluctuations of his corpse vein; the black mist only whispered to him and should not have extended outward.
The only possibility was—
That day at the edge of the settlement, he had exposed himself.
Exposed himself far too thoroughly.
A heaviness settled in Bai Lin's chest.
He didn't regret saving people. He simply understood that "saving people" would always be seen as weakness by part of the world, inviting even greater dangers toward him.
A soft crack suddenly came from the treetops.
A figure stepping on branches appeared six zhang away.
Bai Lin made no sound, yet the person's head turned toward him—moving as if pulled by invisible strings.
There was no doubt: he had been seen.
Bai Lin immediately slid to the left, not releasing any spiritual power, relying solely on physical burst to sprint.
The pursuer's gaze followed without the slightest lag, a faint rift-shadow flickering in their pupils.
—Fractured Sight.
Bai Lin's heart sank.
This was not an ability ordinary sect disciples possessed. It was the legendary "Rift-Viewing Art," capable of seeing the cracks in the world's surface. Using such eyes to hunt someone—
They were hunting an "anomaly," not a "deserter."
Bai Lin rapidly changed directions through the trees, stepping in misaligned patterns, trying to pass through dense foliage to momentarily blind his pursuer.
But the next moment, a low, gravelly voice sounded behind him:
"He's not moving in a straight line."
Another voice replied:
"His aura… seems covered by something. Very faint."
Bai Lin heard a third voice:
"No rush. He will 'move.'"
There was a strange certainty in that tone, as if he were not "the one being hunted," but some kind of "test subject."
A chill rose in his heart—
The sect didn't simply want to kill him. They wanted to "observe" him.
More and more tree shadows appeared.
There were at least five pursuers, yet he could only detect the aura circulation of three.
The wind was suppressed into stillness.
All surrounding sound was swallowed, as if sunk to the bottom of a lake.
Bai Lin knew he couldn't escape for much longer.
He lowered his body, slipping into a darker layer beneath the trees, preparing to use the terrain to conceal himself.
However—
The pursuer with Fractured Sight suddenly spoke softly:
"There."
It was as if he had seen straight through Bai Lin's evasion angle.
Bai Lin's heart jolted; he immediately changed direction.
But Fractured Sight didn't see "people." It saw "dislocations between a person and the world."
The lingering traces of black mist on Bai Lin's body were invisible to ordinary cultivators, yet this pursuer could clearly capture them.
Bai Lin's gaze turned cold.
—No more delays.
He lightly touched the ground with his left palm, mobilizing the deepest physical strength in his body—no corpse vein, no spiritual power, only the explosive force of muscle and bone—and suddenly shot toward a downward slope in the forest.
That direction led to the lowest valley mouth.
But it was also the position the pursuers had predicted.
Bai Lin was simply using their prediction—
Making them think he would head there, then, one breath before reaching the valley, suddenly stomp the ground and launch in another direction.
The Fractured Sight pursuer's pupils narrowed slightly.
He hadn't expected Bai Lin to "hold his breath" so cleanly, suppressing his aura to resemble a corpse.
The pursuer murmured:
"He… is using some strange movement technique."
Another replied:
"It doesn't seem like a movement technique. It's more like… something is pressing him to move."
Bai Lin's heart tightened.
The black mist.
The residual traces of black mist had left strange aura discontinuities on his body, sometimes making his movements seem to "slide past" the world, easily slipping out of normal sight.
This had been his advantage, but against someone who could see rifts, it meant they could see the "remnants the black mist left on him."
The more they could see, the less he could hide.
Bai Lin stopped wasting energy and charged straight into the deeper heart of the forest.
But the instant he leaped over a fallen log—
He saw the mist ahead gently parted. A figure stood there.
Gray-white robes, eyes devoid of light.
Bai Lin froze for a split second; the dead branches beneath his feet cracked.
The figure quietly raised his head.
"…I've finally found you."
There was no hostility in the tone, yet every word seemed to fall from a crack.
Bai Lin took half a step back.
This was no ordinary pursuer.
The figure was so thin it looked drained dry, eyes deeply sunken, brow bones protruding, jawline gaunt—like someone who had been dead for days and dragged upright.
Yet he could still move.
Still speak.
Still—"see."
Fine light-lines flickered in his eyes, like a shattered mirror reflecting the world.
Bai Lin had never seen anyone like this.
The pursuer slowly raised a hand, pointing at Bai Lin's chest:
"You bear… traces 'recorded' by the rift-layer."
Bai Lin's pupils shook.
He had never spoken this secret aloud.
That the rift-layer would "remember him" was an abnormal phenomenon.
Yet the pursuer not only knew—he could "see" it.
The corner of the pursuer's mouth twitched faintly:
"You… are no longer an ordinary person."
The next instant—
The air suddenly grew extremely heavy.
The pursuer's shadow seemed pulled from beneath the ground, elongating and twisting.
Bai Lin keenly sensed:
—This person wasn't simply here to "capture" him.
They belonged to a deeper sect faction.
They were here to "confirm" the extent of Bai Lin's anomaly.
A chill spread through Bai Lin's chest.
What he truly needed to escape wasn't killing intent, but "observation."
The rain suddenly ceased in the dead of night. The thick, lung-crushing humidity clung to Bai Lin's skin. He crouched behind a fractured cliff face, back pressed against cold, damp rock, breathing so lightly it was almost imperceptible.
He had misread the black mist—he knew that now.
The pursuers weren't tracking him through the mist.
It was the one with "Fractured Sight" who had been staring at him the entire time.
Bai Lin did not move.
He was waiting.
Waiting for that person to come close enough so he could confirm one thing—
whether the Fractured Sight user could see the "corpse-vein rift" inside him that was tied to the Demon Emperor.
If they could…
he was already fully exposed.
If they couldn't…
he still had a sliver of room to maneuver.
The forest night seemed torn open. The sound of snapping branches drew nearer, step by step.
Bai Lin lowered his gaze. Corpse qi drifted faintly beneath the skin of his palm, coming and going like a ghost.
The person stopped nine zhang away.
Their footsteps were lighter than any ordinary cultivator's;
their breathing was steady, yet carried an unnaturally sharp—coldness.
This wasn't a hunt.
It was a verification.
"I know you're there."
The voice was soft, yet it landed directly against his eardrums.
Bai Lin remained silent.
The person continued, "You don't need to worry. I'm not here to kill you. At least… not today."
Only then did Bai Lin raise his eyes.
Nine zhang away, a youth in dark-blue inner-sect battle robes stood beneath the moonlight.
His irises were pale, a desaturated gray-blue, and within his pupils flickered another layer of faintly twisting light-lines—
as though he were watching the world split apart.
Fractured Sight.
Bai Lin's heart sank another inch.
The youth spoke. "I can't clearly see what's inside you. But it's pulsing."
Bai Lin: "…"
His tone was flat and calm. "You can see the rifts?"
"I can."
The youth pointed at Bai Lin's chest. "But your rift isn't stable. If I step any closer… I might get dragged in."
He said it as casually as if remarking on the weather.
Yet Bai Lin's mind grew heavier.
He couldn't see clearly, but he could sense the "pulsing."
That meant the corpse vein inside Bai Lin had ceased to be mere mutation—it was now generating its own rhythm of survival.
The longer he lived, the more perceptible the rift would become.
The youth half-turned his face toward the direction of his companions. "They want you. Not me."
Bai Lin's eyes sharpened. "You're not one of the pursuers?"
"I am," the youth said after a pause, then added, "but not the kind you think."
Moonlight fell across his face; his expression was cold, almost numb. "Like her, I was sent to 'observe anomalies.'"
Bai Lin's gaze darkened further.
"Her"—
the female cultivator from Chapter Eight who carried the jade box.
The youth glanced at him sideways. "Your name is Bai Lin, correct?"
Bai Lin's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly.
—The sect did know he was alive.
—But apparently only one particular department knew.
As if reading his thoughts, the youth said, "Rest assured, we have no intention of announcing that you're still alive."
"Why?"
The youth lowered his head, as though listening to some faint vibration. "Because the Observation Group's position is—"
He looked up, his face blank and pale:
"The longer you live, the more we learn about the direction of the mutation."
In that moment, the corpse qi at Bai Lin's fingertips grew cold enough to frost over.
He was not a desperately fleeing prey.
He was a specimen being watched inside a dark box.
The youth harbored no hostility; he merely stated facts. "They chase you because they don't know how dangerous you are to the world. But we do—"
He pointed toward the rift in Bai Lin's heart:
"Among all current anomalies, you are the only one still able to 'retain your self.'
To us—that is far too precious."
Bai Lin stared at him and said coldly, "Precious things are usually dissected for study."
The youth paused, then gave the faintest of smiles. "Probably. If you die."
A vein on Bai Lin's forehead throbbed.
The corpse vein inside him contracted for an instant.
A forest wind suddenly swept from afar, as though someone had crushed an entire row of branches atop the trees.
The youth frowned. "The real pursuers are here."
Bai Lin: "You're not one of them?"
"No," the youth said softly. "My task is to see whether you will fracture further.
Their task is to make sure you don't live much longer."
The next instant, more than a dozen talisman lights flared in the darkness.
"There he is!"
"Seal the formation—don't let him escape!"
The youth stepped back half a pace, automatically drawing a clear line between them. "I won't help you, and I won't kill you."
In his eyes reflected the shattered fragments of the pursuers' talisman light. "But I advise you not to go northeast."
Bai Lin: "What's there?"
"A rift."
The youth looked in that direction, a rare trace of hesitation entering his voice:
"An extremely large rift.
So large… even I dare not approach."
Bai Lin's heart trembled faintly.
The corpse vein inside him seemed tugged by that direction—it thumped once, bringing tearing pain.
The youth retreated into the shadows. "If you survive, do me a favor and confirm one thing—"
"What?"
"Whether the other side of that rift… is alive."
With those words, his figure was swallowed by the night, vanishing without a sound.
The next second—
The pursuers' sealing formation crashed down.
Bai Lin looked up.
Corpse qi slowly rose from his shadow, like an ancient vein awakening and baring its fangs.
Talisman arrays flared in all directions, weaving into a locking net.
Bai Lin had nowhere left to retreat.
"Target ahead!"
"His corpse qi is fluctuating violently—everyone strike together!"
A leader wearing a talisman crown stepped forward, raising a golden array in his palm:
"By the sect's true decree, I suppress—"
BOOM!!!!
A muffled explosion suddenly erupted from Bai Lin's chest.
It was a thump only he could hear.
It did not belong to him.
Nor to any living thing.
It was as though some existence that had slept for ages had just knocked once—on the door inside him.
Cold as snow.
Trembling like a heartbeat.
A bead of cold sweat slid down Bai Lin's forehead.
The corpse vein wasn't shielding him from attacks.
The corpse vein was… responding.
Responding to what?
—The massive rift in the northeast?
—The lingering pulse of the Demon Emperor?
Or…
was something calling to him?
The pursuers gave him no time to think. They closed in from every side.
Bai Lin rose to his full height, cold ferocity flashing through his eyes.
His figure seemed to tear free from the seams of a rift—speed exploding, dragging a gray-white afterimage as he charged toward the weakest point in the encirclement.
The talisman arrays shattered.
The pursuers shouted, "He's fleeing southwest—block him!"
Yet Bai Lin abruptly twisted back.
Not southwest.
Instead—
the northeast direction the youth had warned him never to approach.
Too late for the pursuers to react, they crashed into the misdirection he had deliberately created.
Bai Lin raced northeast, stepping on cracking earth veins, corpse qi scattering behind him like black gauze in the night wind.
Deep beneath the ground, something breathed with a low, rumbling sound.
Like dark tides turning on the ocean floor.
Like a colossal beast stretching its bones before waking.
With every step closer, the rift in Bai Lin's chest throbbed more painfully.
But he did not stop.
Because he knew—
If the Fractured Sight user said that rift would "pull" him,
then whatever lay there was the truth he had to see with his own eyes.