The forest seemed deeper now, not because the trees had grown taller but because every step forward pressed them further into its heart. The mist had thinned only slightly, allowing just enough light for the damp undergrowth to glisten faintly. Above, the canopy was a chaotic web of overlapping branches, where vines tangled like sleeping serpents and small patches of pale sky peeked through like shy eyes.
The seniors led the group at a steady pace, their puppets maintaining a protective perimeter. Every now and then, one would adjust its stance or shift its position, metal joints groaning softly. The sound was oddly reassuring, like the breathing of a watchful guardian.
Yun's voice broke the silence. "Eyes sharp. We are not here to sightsee."
That did not stop the juniors from looking. How could they not? Even in its danger, the forest brimmed with life. Strange, flat mushrooms grew in stepped layers along the trunks of fallen trees, their caps mottled with blue and gray. A cluster of long, pale flowers sprouted from a patch of moss, each with thin petals curling outward like skeletal fingers. When a breeze stirred them, they swayed as if trying to reach toward the passing group.
"Those are Bone Petals," whispered one junior, pointing discreetly. "Ground into powder, they're used to temper corpse Qi."
The boy beside him muttered back, "Then why aren't we picking them?"
"Because," a third said, "they secrete a toxin that burns through flesh if you touch them without gloves."
Muye walked a few paces behind the exchange, catching every word but saying nothing. His own gaze flicked from plant to plant, noting the subtle marks in the soil where roots had been disturbed, or claw tracks half-hidden under fallen leaves. He didn't know all their uses, but his instincts told him every strange thing here had value to someone.
They came to a shallow stream that cut across the path, its water dark with silt but flowing steadily. Yun gestured for the juniors to refill their flasks. "We boil it before drinking. Anything that goes straight from this forest into your mouth is as good as poison."
The water was cold against Muye's fingers as he dipped his flask in. A silver fish darted past under the surface, its scales flashing briefly before vanishing into a deeper pool. He noticed three other juniors looking at it hungrily. They had been living off hard rations for days, dried root cakes and thin strips of meat that tasted faintly of old smoke. No one dared eat anything fresh from the forest without proper preparation. The stories of those who had tried ended in violent sickness or worse.
When they moved on, the ground grew softer, the air warmer. The vegetation here was denser, and faint clicking noises came from somewhere above. Muye tilted his head, catching glimpses of small, many-legged creatures crawling along the branches. Their eyes glowed faintly, reflecting light even in shadow.
"Tree Scuttlers," murmured Zhou Min beside him. "They strip meat from bones in minutes. Don't let them fall on you."
A little further ahead, one junior strayed slightly from the group, drawn to a patch of faintly glowing moss spread across a fallen log. He crouched and scraped a portion into a cloth pouch, careful not to disturb the rest. When he noticed Muye watching, he gave a faint smile and a gesture for silence. Glowing Moss could be sold for decent coin, and no senior would share it willingly if they saw.
The deeper they went, the more the group began to notice other resources scattered along their route. Yun occasionally allowed them to collect items deemed safe and quick to harvest, a vine whose sap hardened into an adhesive, a brittle root that burned like coal when dried. Every gathering stop was brief. The seniors never lingered long enough for the forest to take interest.
Conversation among the juniors became more frequent now. Perhaps the act of collecting small things, of finding worth in the dangerous wild, was a way to push back against the creeping dread.
"You ever think about how much the sect makes off what we bring back?" one muttered.
"They take half. Sometimes more."
"Half if we're lucky," another scoffed. "If the seniors see something they want, it doesn't matter who picked it."
Muye kept silent, though the words stayed with him. In the short time he had been here, he had learned quickly that rules in the sect bent to the will of those strong enough to enforce them.
As the sun shifted above, thin beams pierced the canopy in scattered columns. In one such beam, motes of dust or perhaps spores drifted lazily. They glittered faintly, almost beautiful. A few juniors paused to watch, until Lian's curt "Move" sent them forward again.
It was near one of these shafts of light that it happened.
A rustle in the undergrowth made two juniors glance toward a cluster of thick ferns. From within, something small darted out, a lean, quick creature with mottled brown fur and large, staring eyes. It froze for a heartbeat at the sight of the group, then bolted in the opposite direction.
"Forest hare," Zhou Min said, watching it vanish. "Edible, but too fast unless you have a trap ready."
Muye noticed another figure a few paces away had moved differently during the moment, a boy near the back, someone he barely knew. When the hare startled, the boy had stepped quickly to the side, his foot landing near a mound of soft earth half-hidden by roots. His posture went tense for a fraction of a second, and his eyes darted down before he quickly returned to walking as if nothing had happened.
It was subtle. Most wouldn't notice. But Muye saw the faint bulge in the boy's satchel now where it hadn't been before.
Whatever he had found, it wasn't a hare.
The group pressed on, the seniors showing no sign they had noticed anything. The boy kept his face forward, his pace steady, but his hand lingered too often near the strap of his bag, as if to reassure himself the weight was still there.
Muye considered saying something… but decided against it. In the sect, a treasure discovered in the field belonged to the strongest eyes that saw it. If the seniors learned of it, the boy wouldn't keep it. Better for him to hold his tongue and watch.
The path narrowed into a corridor of close-packed trunks. The air grew cooler again, and the sounds of the forest dimmed until only the group's own movements filled the silence. Even the mist here felt thicker, curling in slow spirals around their legs.
At one point, a pale vine brushed across Muye's shoulder. It was cold to the touch, almost clammy. Zhou Min muttered, "Leechvine. Don't let it coil. It'll drink you dry before you can cut it."
A brawler puppet stomped down on the vine, pinning it until its pale surface writhed and then stilled. They moved on.
By the time they emerged into a slightly wider clearing, the tension in the juniors' bodies was palpable. They loosened shoulders, adjusted grips on weapons, and some even dared to breathe a little deeper. The seniors halted only briefly before signaling them onward.
Muye's attention drifted once more to the boy with the satchel. The bulge was still there, carefully hidden under a fold of cloth. His expression hadn't changed. Neutral, focused but there was a faint light in his eyes now, the kind that came from holding something valuable.
It was dangerous, Muye knew. Not the treasure itself, but the risk of keeping it secret until they returned. One mistake, one stray glance from the wrong senior, and it would be gone.
They walked on. The forest around them shifted subtly – less tangled, more spaced, yet still heavy with shadow. Faint calls of unseen creatures echoed from above, each one sending a ripple of unease through the group.
The boy glanced once toward Muye as if gauging whether he had been noticed. Muye looked away, giving nothing. Whatever the boy had found, it wasn't his business.
The group reached another stream before the seniors finally called for a halt. They drank, checked gear, and spoke in low voices. No one mentioned the body they had left behind earlier. No one asked what else might be waiting ahead.
When they resumed walking, the light was already beginning to dim, shadows stretching longer under the canopy. The air cooled further, the mist curling in thicker bands.
Muye caught a faint sound then, not the steady rhythm of boots or the creak of puppet joints but something softer, like a step that wasn't meant to be heard. His eyes swept the trees, finding nothing. Perhaps it was just the forest itself, shifting in the late hour.
Still, the unease lingered.
The boy with the satchel walked on, head down, one hand still brushing the fabric where his secret prize lay hidden.
No one spoke of it. The seniors gave no sign they knew. But in this forest, where even silence seemed to watch, every secret carried a weight.