The forest felt different the next morning. Not quieter—deeper. As if every branch, every stone, every whisper of wind was subtly aware of Sol Jin's presence. His body still throbbed with pain from the hooded genius's defeat, but his mind was sharper than ever, shaped by a night of relentless analysis.
He walked with deliberate calm, the Infinite Schemer's Core pulsing in his chest like a second heartbeat. With each pulse, faint strands of energy echoed outward, touching the world and returning information—movements, fluctuations, shifts in intent.
Sol Jin exhaled slowly.
> "My senses… they've expanded."
The Core had adapted yet again.
---
He paused at a creek and dipped his fingers into the cold water. Ripples spread outward, and the moment they touched the far bank, a faint distortion flickered—something only someone with heightened perception could notice.
A small, unstable spatial tremor.
His lips curled.
This was the residue of the hooded genius's corpse formula.
> "So he was here recently…"
"Watching. Moving between gaps."
He stood and traced the air with his fingertip. For a split second, a thin crack shimmered in the space before him—a fracture like a tiny wound in the world.
It vanished immediately, but it confirmed what he suspected:
He was beginning to sense the corpse formula's aftereffects naturally.
Not replicate it yet—but recognize it.
A crucial step.
---
As he walked deeper into the woods, the atmosphere shifted. Voices echoed ahead—calm, measured, but tinged with authority. He slowed, blending into the shadows as he observed a group of five standing near a broken boulder.
These were not ordinary minor sect disciples. Their robes bore the emblem of a sect slightly stronger than Ironshade.
The Silverwind Scan Sect.
Known for their scouting abilities and information networks.
Their leader, a slim man with pale eyes, spoke:
"Something isn't right. Our records show a new talent hiding in this forest. A boy who dismantled three sect juniors with nonlethal manipulation techniques."
Sol Jin felt his pulse steady.
> So the ripples are spreading faster than expected.
One disciple knelt by the ground, examining faint footprints.
"This pattern…" he muttered. "Deceptively weak. But the weight distribution—he hides his strength. This is intentional."
The leader nodded.
"A calculated child is always more dangerous than a powerful one. If he's truly self-trained, he might become a prodigy that major sects fight over… or fight to kill."
Sol Jin's eyes narrowed slightly.
> So I've become prey to both admiration and competition.
He stepped out of the shadows silently.
All five instantly turned.
---
"State your name," the leader ordered, sensing threat despite Sol Jin's calm demeanor.
"Sol Jin," he replied simply. "Orphan. Student of observation and survival."
"And the manipulations you've been performing across the forest?"
Sol Jin shrugged lightly.
> "Environmental adjustments. Every battle can be decided before a single strike is thrown."
The five disciples exchanged glances instantly.
A child speaking like a battle strategist sent subtle shockwaves through them.
The leader's pale eyes sharpened.
"You're dangerous. But are you disciplined?"
Sol Jin stepped closer, unafraid.
"Danger without discipline is noise. Danger with discipline is a future threat."
The Silverwind disciples inhaled sharply.
He spoke like someone raised in a grand sect—but he was alone.
The leader's expression changed slightly… interest mixed with caution.
"Be warned, Sol Jin," he said slowly. "If you continue rising, eyes far above ours will turn to you. Some kindly. Others mercilessly."
Sol Jin smiled faintly.
"I welcome both."
---
As they left, Sol Jin watched them silently.
Each interaction with a sect—minor or mid-level—pulled him further into the world's attention. It was inevitability strong enough to choke weaker people.
But not him.
This was merely another step in his strategy.
He moved deeper into the forest until he reached a massive ancient tree. The ground here hummed faintly with distorted vibrations—the corpse formula's lingering energy trails.
He placed his palm against the bark.
The Core pulsed.
His vision blurred.
For a heartbeat, he saw the world in layered fragments—distances folding, angles bending, sound twisting.
A preview of what the hooded genius commanded effortlessly.
Sol Jin staggered back, breath shaky.
> "I need more… understanding. More strength. More data."
"Genius or not, he won't stay beyond my reach forever."
Suddenly, the air shifted.
A faint gap opened briefly in front of him—a tear like a dark slit—but instead of danger, a piece of parchment fell from it.
Sol Jin caught it.
A single message written in sharp, elegant strokes:
"Your curiosity is amusing. Continue."
"But if you try to imitate my art too soon… you will die."
The gap closed instantly.
Sol Jin stared at the words, heart steady but eyes blazing.
> "You're watching me more closely than I thought…"
"…hooded genius."
His grip tightened.
> "And that means you're not untouchable."
The Core pulsed once—hard, deliberate.
The path forward was dangerous, unforgiving, and filled with eyes.
But Sol Jin smiled anyway.
Because danger was just another puzzle.