The mist clung to Lin Che's clothes like damp wool as he followed Xiao Ya deeper into Black Stone Forest. The path grew narrower, winding between gnarled tree trunks that loomed like silent sentinels. Xiao Ya walked ahead, her small hands brushing the leaves of low-hanging branches, her lips moving in a soft murmur—talking to the plants, as she'd said.
"The ivy says the Zhao family went this way," she whispered, pointing to a cluster of dark green vines coiled around a rock. "They're in a hurry. The plants can feel their anger—sharp, like broken glass."
Lin Che nodded, his hand resting on the hilt of a rusted knife he'd found by the stone arch. His ribs still ached, but the Star Marrow's faint warmth in his wrist helped dull the pain. He thought of Su Qing—her calm smile, the way she'd pushed him to run, the sound of her scream—and his jaw tightened. He wouldn't let the Zhao family hurt her. Not if he could stop it.
They walked for an hour, the mist thickening until Lin Che could barely see three feet ahead. The air grew colder, and the trees' branches twisted closer, as if trying to block their path. Xiao Ya suddenly stopped, her eyes wide.
"The brambles," she said, her voice urgent. "They're scared. Something's coming."
Lin Che tensed, listening. At first, he heard nothing—only the wind sighing through the trees and the distant drip of water. Then he caught it: the crunch of boots on leaves, the low grumble of men's voices.
"The Zhao thugs," he whispered, pulling Xiao Ya behind a thick oak trunk. "Stay quiet."
Five men emerged from the mist, their brass badges glinting in the dim light. They carried clubs and metal pipes, and one of them—Lin Che recognized him as Zhao Kun's cousin, Zhao Hu—held a torch, its flame cutting through the fog.
"Boss said the girl's headed for the ruins," Zhao Hu grunted, kicking a stone. "Said she thinks she can hide there. Stupid bitch."
Another thug laughed. "Once we find her, we'll drag her back to the workshop. The old man'll pay us extra for bringing her in alive—and for catching that Lin Che kid, too."
Lin Che's hands tightened around his knife. He wanted to rush out, to tackle them, but he knew he couldn't—not alone, not with Xiao Ya to protect. He glanced at Xiao Ya, who was staring at the thugs, her hands glowing faintly green.
"The brambles," she mouthed, nodding toward a patch of tangled, black-thorned vines at the thugs' feet. "They'll help."
Lin Che frowned. Brambles? How? But before he could ask, Xiao Ya stepped out from behind the tree.
"Hey!" she shouted, waving her arms. "Over here!"
The thugs spun around, their eyes narrowing. "What the hell—?" Zhao Hu snapped, raising his club.
Xiao Ya didn't run. She knelt down, pressing her hands to the ground, and whispered something Lin Che couldn't hear. The brambles suddenly stirred, their thorns growing longer, sharper. Before the thugs could react, the vines shot forward, wrapping around their ankles.
"Shit!" one thug yelled, tripping and dropping his pipe. "Get these things off me!"
Zhao Hu swung his club at the brambles, but the vines only tightened, piercing his boots. Blood seeped through the fabric, and he cursed, falling to his knees.
Lin Che didn't hesitate. He charged forward, his knife raised, and tackled the nearest thug. The man grunted as they hit the ground, and Lin Che drove his elbow into his ribs. The thug gasped, and Lin Che grabbed his club, swinging it at another man's legs.
Xiao Ya kept talking to the brambles, her voice steady. The vines coiled higher, wrapping around the thugs' waists, pinning their arms to their sides. One man tried to cut the vines with a knife, but the thorns sliced his hand, making him drop the blade.
Within minutes, all five thugs were tied to the ground, struggling and yelling. Lin Che stood over them, his chest heaving, his club still in his hand.
"Where is Su Qing?" he snapped, pressing the club to Zhao Hu's throat. "Tell me, or the brambles get to keep you."
Zhao Hu's eyes widened. "The ruins! She's at the old ruins—by the big stone altar! Boss is already there, waiting for the Arcane crystal!"
Lin Che nodded, satisfied. He turned to Xiao Ya. "Can the brambles hold them?"
She nodded, patting a vine. "They'll hold. The plants don't like men who hurt other people."
Lin Che glanced at the thugs, who were still cursing, then started down the path. "Let's go. We need to get to Su Qing before Zhao Kun does."
They walked faster now, the mist thinning slightly as they neared the heart of the forest. The trees grew taller, their trunks carved with faint symbols—like the ones on the stone arch, but more intricate. Xiao Ya's hands glowed brighter, and she kept pausing to talk to the plants, asking for directions.
"The ivy says we're close," she said, pointing to a break in the trees ahead. "The ruins are just beyond that clearing."
Lin Che's heart raced. He could see it now—stone walls, half-buried in dirt and moss, rising from the mist. At the center of the ruins stood a large stone altar, its surface stained with dark marks. And by the altar—there she was.
Su Qing was tied to a post, her head hanging, her clothes torn. Zhao Kun stood beside her, holding a metal pipe, a smirk on his face. Two more thugs stood guard, their eyes scanning the forest.
"Su Qing!" Lin Che shouted, rushing into the clearing.
Zhao Kun spun around, his eyes widening when he saw Lin Che. "You! I thought the wolves would've eaten you by now!"
Su Qing lifted her head, her eyes filling with hope. "Lin Che—don't! It's a trap!"
Too late. The two thugs charged, their clubs raised. Lin Che dodged one, but the other hit him in the back, sending him sprawling to the ground. His knife flew from his hand, skittering across the stone.
Zhao Kun laughed, stepping closer. "Foolish. You think you can beat me? Beat the Zhao family?" He raised his pipe, aiming for Lin Che's head. "This time, there's no one to save you."
Lin Che closed his eyes, bracing for the impact. But it didn't come. Instead, he heard a shout—and the sound of thorns tearing through fabric.
He opened his eyes. Xiao Ya was standing behind Zhao Kun, her hands glowing bright green. A wall of brambles had shot up from the ground, wrapping around Zhao Kun's arms, pulling the pipe from his hand.
"Leave him alone!" Xiao Ya yelled, her voice fierce.
Zhao Kun struggled, but the thorns held him. "What the—? You little witch!"
Lin Che scrambled to his feet, grabbing his knife from the ground. He ran to Su Qing, cutting the ropes that bound her. She collapsed into his arms, weak but alive.
"Are you okay?" he asked, brushing hair from her face.
She nodded, wincing. "I'm fine. Just sore. How did you—?"
"Xiao Ya helped," Lin Che said, nodding toward the girl. "She can talk to the plants."
Su Qing's eyes widened. "A Spirit Plant Speaker? I thought they were just stories."
Before Xiao Ya could speak, a loud roar echoed through the forest. The ground shook, and the mist swirling around the ruins grew darker.
Zhao Kun laughed, even as the brambles tightened. "You think this is over? The old man sent more men—they'll be here any minute! And when they come, they'll kill all of you!"
Lin Che's heart sank. They'd saved Su Qing, but they weren't safe. Not yet.
Su Qing grabbed his arm, her voice urgent. "The altar. It's not just stone—it's a portal. To the old Spirit Plant Ruins. If we can activate it, we can escape."
Lin Che looked at the altar. Its surface was covered in symbols, matching the ones on his wrist—the Star Marrow's mark.
"How do we activate it?" he asked.
Su Qing nodded to his wrist. "The Star Marrow. It's the key. You have to touch the altar with it."
Lin Che stepped toward the altar, his wrist glowing. The mist grew thicker, and he could hear the distant crunch of boots—more thugs, coming closer.
He placed his hand on the altar. The symbols flared to life, matching the Star Marrow's light. The ground shook again, and a bright portal opened in the center of the altar, swirling with green and silver energy.
"Go!" Lin Che shouted, grabbing Su Qing and Xiao Ya's hands.
They stepped into the portal. As they vanished, Lin Che heard Zhao Kun's scream fade behind them—followed by the sound of thorns and angry shouts.
The last thing he saw before the portal closed was the mist swallowing the ruins.
And then—darkness.