Kai’s original estimate of three weeks had proven laughably optimistic. Over a month had passed since he’d plunged into the wilderness, his progress slower and more grueling than anticipated. The forest was vast and unrelenting, filled with underbrush that snagged at his clothes and streams that forced him to wade through freezing water. He pressed on tirelessly, stopping only when nightfall demanded it.

  The journey had tested him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Survival was not just a matter of evading danger—it was a daily grind of discomfort and improvisation. Thankfully, the bags of rice he’d secured from Haebaek before everything went wrong were still tucked safely in his storage ring. That small fortune of food had kept him from the desperation of hunger, but it was far from ideal.

  Cooking the rice required water, and while Kai could often find streams or pools to draw from, there were nights when the search came up empty. On those evenings, he had no choice but to chew the grains raw. It was a miserable experience—the dry, crunchy texture and bland taste reminding him just how far he’d fallen from the few comforts his former sect provided. Still, it was sustenance, and sustenance meant survival.

  The endless monotony of the forest began to wear on him. Each day blurred into the next: the same trees, the same underbrush, the same relentless march forward. The sun rose, the sun set, and Kai moved onward, driven by the hope that Mungsu would eventually appear on the horizon.

  Throughout his journey, the unsettling sensation of being watched clung to him like a shadow. It was a constant, prickling awareness at the edge of his senses, an invisible weight that refused to lift. At first, Kai remained on high alert, his hand never straying far from his weapon. Every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig set his nerves aflame, prompting him to scan his surroundings for threats that never materialized.

  Days turned into weeks, and despite the unshakable feeling, nothing ever came of it. No ambushes, no mysterious figures emerging from the forest, no evidence that anyone—or anything—was actually there. The forest remained eerily silent, offering no answers to his unease.

  Eventually, Kai began to dismiss the sensation as a product of his frayed nerves. After all, it wasn’t unreasonable to feel paranoid after everything that had happened—the betrayal of his sect, the demonic cultivators’ attack, and the endless solitude of the wilderness. It was only natural for his mind to play tricks on him, conjuring threats where none existed.

  As the days wore on, a growing sense of unease settled over Kai. It wasn’t just the feeling of being watched that haunted him; it was the unnerving silence that surrounded him. The forest, usually alive with the sounds of wildlife—chirping birds, rustling leaves, and the distant calls of spirit beasts—was eerily quiet. There were no signs of animals, neither mundane nor spiritual, and that fact unsettled Kai even more. He had been traveling for weeks, and yet, the natural world seemed to have withdrawn.

  It didn’t make sense. Spirit beasts, especially, were usually abundant in these forests. They were territorial creatures, and though they could be dangerous, they were also an integral part of the ecosystem. Their absence was disconcerting, as if the entire area had been purged of life. While he was relieved that no dangerous creatures had crossed his path, the silence only made him feel more vulnerable. What had driven the animals away?

  The longer he wandered, the more he began to doubt his sense of direction. He wasn’t sure if he had strayed off course, and the overwhelming quiet made it hard to gauge the distance he’d traveled. His mind, already worn thin from days of isolation, began to wonder if he was truly lost. The thought of wandering aimlessly through the wilderness, with no clear path ahead, made him anxious.

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  Just as the weight of that uncertainty threatened to consume him, Kai stumbled upon a road. It wasn’t much—just a dirt path cutting through the underbrush—but it was a road nonetheless. And at the junction, a weathered sign stood upright, its wood cracked and faded, but still legible. The words “Mungsu” were carved into the sign, and a rush of relief washed over Kai. He hadn’t misled himself after all.

  He carefully examined the path ahead, listening intently for any sounds of approaching footsteps or the hum of energy that might indicate nearby cultivators. Mungsu was his destination, but he knew he couldn’t afford to be seen. The last thing he needed was to run into a group of cultivators, either from the righteous sects or demonic forces. They’d be quick to recognize him as a rogue cultivator, and that would spell certain danger.

  With a quiet exhale, Kai adjusted the simple brown robes he had scavenged from Uije and started down the road, moving with purpose but keeping to the shadows of the trees lining the path. He kept his senses sharp, aware of every creak of a branch or distant shift in the wind. The road was a good sign, but it also meant he was closer to potential danger.

  Eventually, Kai finally arrived at the outskirts of Mungsu. The sight that greeted him, however, was nothing like the bustling city he remembered. The high walls of Mungsu still stood tall and imposing, but the area outside them had transformed into something unrecognizable.

  A sprawling refugee camp stretched out before the city gates, a chaotic sea of makeshift tents and crude shelters. Smoke from countless cooking fires curled into the sky, mixing with the acrid stench of too many people crammed into too little space. The murmur of voices, the cries of children, and the groans of the sick and injured reached Kai’s ears even from a distance. The camp was alive with activity, but it radiated an air of desperation and fear.

  Kai’s stomach churned as he took it all in. The sheer size of the camp confirmed his worst fears—the conflict was indeed as widespread as he had dreaded. These weren’t just a few displaced villagers; this was an exodus, evidence of entire regions being uprooted.

  But as his eyes wandered to the banners hanging from the city walls, a fresh wave of unease washed over him. The familiar insignia of the Ember Sword Sect was nowhere to be seen. In its place were banners adorned with the emblem of the Emerald Tortoise Sect—a black turtle shell set against a green background.

  That discovery sent Kai’s mind racing. Their presence here confirmed that the Ember Sword Sect’s hold over this territory had been broken, and the city had been taken over by their allies.

  “What happened here?” Kai murmured to himself, his gaze darting between the banners and the refugee camp.

  The shift in control made logical sense—if the leadership of the Ember Sword Sect had truly fallen, the Emerald Tortoise Sect would be the natural choice to step in and stabilize the region. Their strength, defensive prowess, and reputation within the righteous alliance made them uniquely suited for such a task. However, something about this transition felt off to Kai, unsettlingly so.

  It had only been a month since he’d witnessed the blaze at the sect’s main grounds, a month since the night that had upended his life. Could things have truly unraveled this quickly? Even with Long Bo gone, the sect wasn’t without its power structures. The elders of the Ember Sword Sect, formidable cultivators in their own right, should have been able to rally some resistance, maintain some semblance of control.

  What unsettled Kai further was the absence of any trace of the Ember Sword Sect’s banners. Even if the Emerald Tortoise Sect had arrived to reinforce the region, they wouldn’t have outright replaced the banners so soon. Protocol dictated that allied sects respected the symbols of the territories they aided, at least until the situation stabilized. This hasty erasure of the Ember Sword Sect’s presence spoke of a deeper collapse, one that didn’t align with the order and procedure Kai expected from the alliance.

  "Something doesn’t add up," Kai muttered, narrowing his eyes at the banners fluttering in the breeze.

  He stayed hidden in the shadows of the forest, carefully observing the camp from a safe distance. Moving closer to the city would be dangerous, but he needed to assess his next steps. Entering the city might be his only way to secure passage south, but with the Emerald Tortoise Sect in control, he’d have to tread carefully.

  For now, he decided to check out the refugee camp to see what was going on.