Xiao Lei’s thoughts tightened around the single phrase that echoed in his mind. Myriad Cauldron Physique?

  “What is that?” he asked silently, directing the question toward the pup. Yet the little beast seemed to drift, as if lost in some deep memory, offering nothing but silence.

  He repeated the question, again and again, his persistence sharp as flint striking steel. At last, the creature’s voice surfaced, edged with irritation.

  Fine. I will tell you.

  Its tone was almost dismissive, but its words weighed like iron. It is one of the legendary variant physiques. Almost none survive beyond infancy. Yet the rare few who endure are fated to walk the path of alchemy. They wield a flawless harmony of heat, qi, and spirit—every herb they touch retains its potency, every refinement bends toward perfection.

  Xiao Lei’s breath caught. The cavern air felt denser, pressing against his chest. ‘So powerful…?’ Awe clashed with unease in his chest, his thoughts scattering like sand in the wind.

  The pup gave a soundless snort, a ripple of disdain brushing against his thoughts.

  Child, what do you know? In all my countless years, this is only the fifth time I have seen someone live past two years with such a body. Do not be so quick to imagine destiny handing down greatness without effort. The Myriad Cauldron Physique is an unmatched seed, yes, but even seeds must be nurtured. They may walk an easier path than others, but the climb to stand above all still demands struggle.

  Its voice lingered, ancient yet sharp, as if chiding him for naivety. Then, softer, almost thoughtful: Still… your fortune is staggering. If you can bind this girl to your side, her presence will be a great boon for us.

  The shift in phrasing cut like a needle. His pulse faltered, a spark of cold lancing his spine.

  ‘For us?’

  But the voice retreated. Silence followed, thick and deliberate.

  Xiao Lei’s frown deepened. His heart gave a muted throb, though his face betrayed nothing. The pup had grown too familiar, too comfortable with its intrusion—its ability to slip through his thoughts like water through an unsealed jar. Every flicker of doubt, every suspicion he harboured, the creature could seize without effort.

  That knowledge was a blade pressed against his throat.

  He forced his breathing calm, though unease stirred beneath the surface. If it could hear every thought, then he was defenceless—every scheme bared, every weakness exposed. To survive beside such a companion, he would need more than vigilance. He would need a way to shroud his mind, a wall the pup could not cross.

  Only then could he begin to dig at its secrets—why it lingered, what it truly wanted, and why it kept speaking as though his path was not his alone.

  For now, Xiao Lei held his silence. The surrounding felt colder, though no wind touched its walls.

  And somewhere in the stillness, the pup chuckled—or perhaps that was only his imagination.

  The exchange had felt drawn out, heavy with silence and glances, yet in truth only a few breaths had passed. Lian remained where she was, watching him with wide eyes. Xiao Lei stood motionless, his expression unreadable save for the faint crease of his brows. She braced herself for harshness, for the cold words he so often hurled at her when she faltered.

  But instead, he simply stepped past her. His voice, low and even, brushed against the quiet.

  “It’s fine. But waste like that again, and we won’t last the forest.”

  No anger. No threat. Just calm—flat as stone, yet carrying weight enough to settle her shoulders.

  Xiao Lei crouched by a patch of cleared earth and struck tinder. The spark caught, flames licking upward in sharp orange tongues. He worked without pause, setting the haunch of the single-horned deer over the fire. Soon, the sharp scent of raw meat softened into a rich fragrance. Smoke curled upward, carrying with it the faint sweetness of crushed herbs that he spread with practiced ease.

  Lian hesitated, still half-convinced a scolding would come, then slowly lowered herself to sit nearby. The fire painted her face in uneven warmth, shadows shifting with every flicker. From time to time her gaze slid toward Xiao Lei—toward his still, focused figure—and then back to the roasting leg, where fat hissed as it fell into the flames.

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  She could not make sense of him. Before, every mistake had drawn sharp warnings, even threats that he would leave her behind. Yet this time his words were neither cruel nor sharp—merely plain. His face remained cold, impassive as ever, but something had shifted. Too faint for her to name, too veiled for her inexperience to grasp.

  Still, she let it go. She was only a child, and what mattered now was simple: he hadn’t yelled at her. Relief, fragile but real, loosened the knot in her chest.

  The fire crackled. The meat browned and glistened, skin blistering under the steady heat. When at last it was ready, Xiao Lei sprinkled a final scatter of herbs across it, releasing a sharp, earthy fragrance that cut through the night air. He tore free a generous piece and held it out. Lian snatched it quickly, as if fearing he might change his mind, and bit into it with eager hunger.

  In the stillness of his mind, the pup’s voice slid in, laced with cutting disdain.

  Pathetic. One soft word and you think clever? Even a half-wit sees through this.

  Xiao Lei’s expression remained steady. Within, he acknowledged the truth: human hearts—he had never learned them. Not in this life, not the last. Silence had always been easier.

  He would have to learn. Quickly.

  But not here. Not now. With the pup listening, even the privacy of his mind was uncertain. Beyond the fire’s hiss, the forest pressed close and silent, as if it too had been listening.

  ?? — ? — ??

  Several days had passed since Xiao Lei and Lian left the cave, threading their way through the dense, unyielding jungle toward its far exit.

  Lian clutched the crude map her grandfather had drawn—its edges frayed, its lines barely legible—but it guided them reliably, sparing them countless encounters with wandering beasts.

  Perhaps it was luck, or perhaps Xiao Lei’s meticulous strategy: he had insisted they smear themselves in soil tainted with rank-three beast droppings, masking their scent in a way that made even Lian wrinkle her nose in disgust.

  The jungle’s thick canopy filtered the afternoon sun into a dim, greenish haze, and a cold wind snaked between the trees, chilling them despite their constant movement.

  Abruptly, Xiao Lei froze, so absolute that Lian’s panting seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet air. She glanced at him, curiosity and unease knotting her stomach. For several measured breaths, he remained motionless, eyes scanning, calculating.

  Then, without a word, he pivoted and moved in a new direction. Lian opened her mouth to ask, but the faintest glance from him silenced her instantly. She swallowed her words and followed with careful, hurried steps.

  Their pace slowed, deliberate and cautious. Soon, the sounds of the forest shifted. Amid the usual rustling and creaking, a new layer emerged: distant shouts, the clash of steel, the growl of exerted anger. Lian stiffened, sensing they were approaching a scene of conflict. Concealing themselves behind a thick bush, they peered ahead.

  Two groups clashed in chaotic harmony. One wore similar, rugged garments—the telltale insignia of a faction, uniform and unmistakable. The other seemed more like an opportunistic hunting party, lightly armoured, moving with survival-driven precision.

  At the centre of the hunting party, two youths—a boy and a girl, perhaps fifteen or sixteen—were clearly marked as important, shielded by the bodies and weapons of their companions. Every swing and step of their guardians was calculated to keep them alive.

  As Xiao Lei and Lian crept closer, two pairs of eyes snapped toward them. Lian could not sense it, but Xiao Lei felt the subtle tremor of cultivated qi brushing against him.

  These two were formidable, their cultivation level resonating at the fifth stage of Qi Awakening—precisely matching Xiao Lei’s own.

  The middle-aged leaders’ attention snapped back to the battle. There were no qi fluctuations from the silent observers at the forest’s edge. Clearly mortals, not worth their time.

  Lian, though young, quickly grasped the situation; she had seen enough skirmishes in the wild to recognize the pattern. The group clad in uniform—their movements coordinated, aggression practiced—were bandits, predators of the outer jungle. Hidden along the paths, they ambushed hunting parties, caravans, and lone travellers, taking valuables before vanishing into the foliage.

  Her gaze flicked to the faltering hunting party, bodies tumbling with each swing of steel. “Big brother,” she whispered, uncertainty threading her voice, “should we help?”

  Xiao Lei’s eyes remained cold, fixed and unyielding. The lines of his face tightened in calculation. His voice cut through her hesitation, calm and detached: “Sure. If you think you’re strong enough, then go ahead.” No warmth. No encouragement—only the sharp edge of truth. She could act if she dared, but there would be no shared risk. She bit her lip and stayed silent.

  Below, bodies clashed in a grim rhythm of life and death. Limbs and weapons fell indiscriminately. The copper tang of blood thickened the air. From a branch several trees back, Xiao Lei observed, each detail etched into his mind.

  The middle-aged leaders, locked in furious combat, seemed indifferent to his presence. Whether they noticed mattered little; mortals were inconsequential to warriors of cultivated power.

  His eyes swept the battlefield. Each parry, each feint, each subtle shift of weight revealed an opening. Lian’s small hands clenched her arms; her body trembled despite her iron resolve. The forest pressed down on them, thick and heavy, the scent of blood and broken foliage stinging their lungs.

  They waited—one above, one below. Silence stretched taut. Each second stretched, each heartbeat measured. Xiao Lei’s mind ran cold calculations, weighing ruthlessness, patience, and timing—the keys to victory.

  Finally, the moment arrived.

  The bandit leader, pressing his advantage recklessly, overextended while countering a devastating blow. Behind him, a massive illusory black scorpion materialized, pincers glinting with poison. The opposing leader summoned his own primordial echo—a hulking, armoured rat whose muscular limbs lashed desperately as poison coursed through its body, faltering under the relentless assault.

  Xiao Lei’s pupils narrowed, gleaming with the thrill of precision. Every calculation, every pause, every observation converged on this instant. His weight shifted imperceptibly, eyes sharp as blades—now was the moment to strike.

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  Destiny Reckoning. It’s set in the same universe, and you definitely don’t want to miss it, because the stories will eventually crossover.