The first crack didn't come from a sect.
It came from a roadblock.
Ren noticed it long before he reached it — not through sight, but through tension. The echo stirred faintly, reacting to something rigid, imposed, artificial.
Someone had tried to control a flow they didn't understand.
Two wagons lay overturned across the road ahead, their contents scattered deliberately rather than carelessly. A makeshift barrier. Crude, but intentional.
Bandits?
No.
Too neat.
Ren slowed his steps.
Three figures stepped out from behind the wagons.
Not cultivators.
Not soldiers.
They wore mismatched armor and carried well-maintained weapons — spears, not swords. Practical. Defensive. Their stances were trained.
Hired hands.
One of them raised a hand.
"Stop there."
Ren stopped.
"You're blocking the road," he said calmly.
"That's the idea," the man replied."We're checking travelers."
Ren tilted his head slightly.
"For what?"
The man hesitated — just a fraction too long.
"Contraband," he said.
Ren nodded.
"And what counts as contraband today?"
Another pause.
"Things that cause trouble."
Ren smiled faintly.
That told him everything.
He glanced past them, toward the path behind the wagons.
"You're not here for everyone," Ren said."Just for people like me."
The man's jaw tightened.
"You can turn back."
Ren shook his head.
"No."
The echo pulsed — not threatening.
Observant.
"Why not?" the man asked.
"Because if I do," Ren replied,"you'll do this again. Somewhere else."
Silence stretched.
The third guard shifted uneasily.
"We don't want trouble," the first man said more quietly."We were paid to delay you. That's all."
Ren's eyes sharpened.
"Paid by who?"
The man exhaled.
"A middleman. No names."
Of course.
Ren stepped closer — not aggressively, not slowly.
Just… decisively.
The guards stiffened.
Ren stopped two paces away.
"You don't need to stop me," he said."You need to tell whoever paid you that this won't work."
The man frowned.
"You think we'll just let you through?"
Ren met his eyes.
"You already have."
The echo pulsed.
The air seemed to shift — not pressuring, not bending, just… aligning.
The guards exchanged looks.
One swallowed.
"…Let him pass."
The others hesitated — then stepped aside.
Ren walked between the wagons without another word.
Behind him, one of the guards muttered:
"This isn't what we signed up for."
Ren didn't turn back.
But he understood something important now.
The world wasn't escalating correctly.
Sects tested openly.Clans pressured indirectly.
But this?
This was fear leaking downward — into mercenaries, into roads, into systems meant to control movement.
A crack.
Ren continued walking until the road widened again and the tension eased.
He stopped briefly, resting a hand against a tree.
The echo pulsed — thoughtful.
"They don't know what to do with me," Ren murmured."So they're trying everything."
The echo agreed.
Far away, a message arrived late to its recipient.
Delay unsuccessful.
The man who read it frowned.
He had expected resistance.
He hadn't expected cooperation.
And that uncertainty…
That was the real danger.
Ren moved on, the road ahead quieter now.
The crack had formed.
And cracks had a way of spreading.