CHAPTER 119: HUNTERS

Kael halted, his back to them, the crimson mark pulsing faintly, its rhythm quickening. "I don’t need coin or cores," he said, his voice low, carrying the weight of a cultivator who walked a solitary path. "Just don’t follow me."

The glaive user hesitated, his spiritual senses probing the fog as if weighing the danger of Kael’s words. "This swamp... you’re alone?" he asked, his tone laced with disbelief.

Kael didn’t answer, letting the silence speak for him, its weight heavier than any reply. The fog thickened, cloaking his form as he prepared to vanish.

One of the sword users muttered, his voice low but audible, his qi trembling under the marsh’s pressure. "He’s walking deeper into the Heart Marsh... is he mad?"

The dagger girl’s eyes narrowed, her Blade Intent sharpening as she studied Kael’s retreating form. "That sword... and the silver flames," she murmured, her voice tinged with recognition. "I heard about them on our way here and I’ve read of it in the sect’s archives—legends of a Lotus Flame, purified and untamed."

Kael paused, his head turning slightly, his silver eyes glinting through the fog. "Don’t speak of what you saw," he said, his voice cold, laced with a quiet authority that made the disciples flinch. "Or next time, you wouldn’t be so lucky."

With that, he vanished into the mist, his Silent Eclipse Dao cloaking his aura, his steps leaving no trace on the water’s surface. The disciples stood frozen, staring at the slain wolf, its charred fur steaming, the scorched ground a testament to Kael’s power.

The fog swallowed his path, the marsh’s silence a shroud that hid the Warden of the Lotus from their sight.

The glaive user exhaled, his lightning qi stabilizing, his voice low with awe. "What kind of rogue cultivator wields a Silver Lotus Flame...?"

The dagger girl shivered, her hand tightening on her wound, her qi flickering with unease. "No rogue cultivator," she whispered, her eyes fixed on the fog. "That was something else written in the books, a warden of a power we can’t fathom."

The swamp remained silent, its miasma thickening as if guarding Kael’s secret. He walked alone once more, his breath calm, his wounds aching, but his steps steady, guided by the crimson mark’s insistent pulse.

The Silver Lotus Flame within his dantian flared during the battle, its silver-violet light a reflection of the Lotus’s awakening, its resonance drawing him eastward, toward the Midlands way beyond this Endless Plains.

Kael’s boots splashed softly through the murky waters as he emerged from the fog-shrouded depths of the Deadflame Marsh, the Silver Lotus Flame flickering within his dantian like a quiet whisper guiding him through the darkness.

Each step deeper into the wilds intensified the crimson mark’s pulse on his forearm, its rhythm tugging at his spirit core like an unseen thread woven by fate.

The Heart Marsh’s miasmic stench clung to his tattered robes, a lingering reminder of battles fought and beasts slain, but Kael pressed onward, his silver eyes sharp with unyielding resolve.

Rest was a luxury he could not afford—not yet, not when the Forbidden Lotus’s call grew louder, a beacon leading him eastward into uncharted realms.

The marsh’s corrupted qi gave way to a dense forest, its ancient trees towering like the bones of forgotten titans, their roots twisting into the earth with primal ferocity.

Vines draped low, heavy with moisture, and the air hummed with the weight of unseen gazes as if the forest itself watched his passage.

The world grew quieter the deeper he ventured—no bird calls pierced the stillness, no leaves rustled in the breeze, only the occasional drip of dew and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, amplified by his Crescent Requiem Dao’s attunement to the natural flow.

A sudden breeze stirred the leaves, a subtle shift in the forest’s qi that set Kael’s instincts ablaze. Without thought, he ducked behind a moss-covered boulder, his Silent Eclipse Dao flaring to cloak his aura in a veil of shadow, muffling his presence to near nothingness.

Moments later, three figures leaped across the branches above, their movements swift and almost inhuman, their grey and black robes blending with the twilight.

Their qi was refined, pulsing with the disciplined control of early-stage Soul Flame Realm cultivators, their spiritual signatures sharp with predatory intent.

They vanished toward the mountain range ahead, their auras fading into the distance, leaving only the whisper of their passage.

"Hunters," Kael murmured, his voice low, his Crescent Requiem Dao analyzing the lingering traces of their qi. "Or something worse."

Their presence in this no-man’s land suggested a purpose beyond mere scouting—perhaps drawn by the same force that tugged at his crimson mark, the Forbidden Lotus’s radiant lure a siren call to those who sought power.

Kael waited until their spiritual signatures dissolved into the forest’s ambient qi before rising, his steps measured, his body still aching from the Silverhorned Wolf’s claws. His meridians hummed with controlled qi, sealing the damage to his ribs and thigh, but the strain of constant vigilance weighed on his dantian.

By dusk, the forest parted to reveal rocky foothills, the sour stench of the marsh replaced by the crisp scent of pine and the chill bite of altitude.

Before him loomed the Howling Spine Mountains, a jagged range shrouded in legend, a no-man’s land where rogue cultivators whispered of spirit beasts, bandits, and ancient secrets buried beneath primal formations.

Sect disciples avoided its treacherous peaks, but Kael, driven by the crimson mark’s insistent pulse, stepped onto a narrow path winding upward, half-hidden by fallen stone and creeping moss, his hand resting on Abyssal Fang’s hilt.

The wind howled across the cliffs, a mournful wail that gave the mountains their name, its icy breath carrying whispers of forgotten battles. As night descended, Kael found refuge beneath a rocky overhang, its hollow offering shelter from the gale.

He ignited a small Silver Lotus Flame, shielding it with a curved stone, its silver-violet light radiating pure, calming warmth without smoke or scent, a manifestation of his purified Dao that defied the mountains’ harshness.

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