"You mean you wish he'd carry all of it again. Poor guy never even complained." Yuan Ping chuckled.
Wu Shuan smiled faintly. "He did once. Remember when his knees gave out after Elder Qing made him carry those Heavy Black Iron Ore boxes? He swore his spine would split in two."
"Yeah, those are so dense. Even a single box is almost a ton." A disciple chuckled. "And he carried two!"
Their laughter was quiet but genuine, breaking some of the tension in the air.
Han Yu's lips curved slightly, though his eyes remained watchful.
He too missed Fatty Kui's presence. The man's cheerful complaints and endless appetite had been a strange comfort during previous missions. Without him, the group felt quieter, sharper, and a bit heavier in mood.
Still, this was no time for nostalgia. The forest ahead was thick with mist, and every shadow between the trees seemed to hide intent. Han Yu could feel faint traces of beasts' Qi; scents of fur, musk, and blood lingering along the wind.
