Kai resolved to head for the deepest reaches of the Great White Falcon Forest, far removed from the chaos of the Ember Sword Sect’s main grounds. It was his best chance at survival. The forest was enormous, sprawling across a landmass so vast that it could encompass a dozen kingdoms within its borders. Its towering trees stretched endlessly, their thick canopies shrouding the ground in perpetual twilight.

  What made the Great White Falcon Forest most appealing to Kai wasn’t just its size but its isolation. Though it bordered the forest where spirit herbs grew—a place of frequent activity for cultivators—its interior remained largely untouched. No settlements, no sect outposts, and, more importantly, no prying eyes. It was uninhabited wilderness.

  As he moved deeper into the undergrowth, the forest around him grew darker and quieter. The chirping of insects and distant hoots of owls provided the only soundtrack to his journey. He trudged onward, his senses sharpened, scanning his surroundings for signs of danger. Kai knew the forest wasn’t entirely safe. Powerful spirit beasts were rumored to roam its depths, but he preferred the risk of wild creatures over the certainty of death at the hands of cultivators—righteous or demonic.

  The deeper he went, the thicker the trees became, their ancient trunks covered in moss and their roots sprawling like veins across the forest floor. The air was cooler here, damp and earthy, carrying with it the faint scent of foliage and decay. It was a realm untouched by civilization, wild and untamed, and it was exactly where Kai needed to be.

  Kai had been running for two days straight, driven by a desperate need to put as much distance as possible between himself and his former home. The forest seemed endless, a labyrinth of towering trees and tangled underbrush. He had no way to measure how far he had traveled—there were no landmarks, no clear paths, and no familiar signs to guide him. The dense canopy overhead filtered out most of the sunlight, leaving the forest cloaked in a dim, perpetual twilight.

  Despite his exhaustion, Kai pressed on, his legs burning and his breath coming in ragged gasps. He couldn’t afford to stop. He needed to believe he was far enough into the forest that no one could possibly be following him. Yet, no matter how far he ran or how deep he ventured, an unsettling sensation gnawed at the back of his mind.

  The feeling of being watched.

  It clung to him like a shadow, an invisible presence that made his skin crawl. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig sent his heart racing, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword. He constantly glanced over his shoulder, scanning the dense undergrowth for any sign of pursuit, but he saw nothing—only the silent, unmoving trees.

  Kai tried to dismiss the sensation, reasoning that it was just his frayed nerves playing tricks on him. After all, he had been running on sheer adrenaline, with little rest and even less food. But the feeling persisted ever since he left his home.

  Eventually, the oppressive feeling of being watched began to fade, though it never fully left him. It lingered at the edges of his consciousness, a subtle gnawing that kept him on edge. After running nonstop for two days, Kai’s body finally protested. His legs trembled with exhaustion, and his chest burned with each labored breath. Reluctantly, he decided it was time to stop and rest.

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  As he scanned his surroundings, he found a small alcove nestled beneath the roots of a towering, ancient tree. The thick roots created a natural shelter, their gnarled forms curving protectively over a patch of dry ground. Carefully, Kai checked the alcove for signs of habitation—wild animals or worse—but it appeared empty. Relieved, he crawled inside and began gathering loose branches and dry leaves scattered nearby.

  He initially intended to start a fire, hoping for a moment of warmth and comfort to drive away the bone-deep chill that had settled in during his journey. But as he crouched over the kindling, preparing to spark a flame, he hesitated. A wave of paranoia washed over him, his instincts screaming at him to stop. A fire would be a beacon, a signal to anyone nearby—whether demonic cultivators prowling the forest for survivors or alliance cultivators searching for enemies. Either way, it was too risky.

  With a sigh, Kai abandoned the idea. He pushed the branches aside and sat back against the rough bark of the tree, pulling out a blanket from his storage ring to wrap around him for warmth. The decision gnawed at him. Was he being overly cautious, letting his fear control him? Or was his paranoia justified? He couldn’t be sure, and that uncertainty made him feel vulnerable.

  The nagging sensation of being watched returned, faint but persistent, like a whisper at the back of his mind. Every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig set his nerves on edge, his hand instinctively drifting toward the hilt of his sword. He tried to calm himself, reasoning that it was just the tension of the last two days catching up with him. But no matter how hard he tried, the feeling wouldn’t let him relax.

  In an attempt to ease his paranoia, Kai retrieved a length of rope from his storage ring and began constructing a noise trap around the perimeter of his alcove. The method was primitive, but effective—another skill dredged up from those strange dreams of the person named Mike, sent to something called a "survival camp" as a child in a far-off world. Though the dreams often baffled him, he couldn’t deny their usefulness in moments like this.

  Kai carefully tied the rope to low-hanging branches and secured it with makeshift triggers using small bells from his storage supplies. Anything approaching would disturb the trap, producing a sharp jingling noise that would alert him instantly. Satisfied with the rudimentary defense, he returned to his small alcove under the tree.

  Settling into the cramped space, Kai wrapped the blanket tightly around himself. He could still feel the chill seeping through, but it was better than nothing. From the same storage, he retrieved a small portion of dried meat, chewing it slowly as his thoughts raced. The meat was tough, its flavor bland, but it was sustenance—something to keep his energy up as his body recovered from two grueling days of nonstop running.

  As he finished his meager meal, Kai leaned back against the rough bark of the tree, his blanket cocoon offering meager comfort. He forced himself to close his eyes, though every rustle of leaves or distant call of a nocturnal animal sent a jolt of anxiety through him. Sleep felt like an impossible task, but he knew he had to try. Exhaustion weighed on his body, and if he wanted to keep moving, he needed to rest.

  Just a little while, he told himself. Enough to regain my strength.

  With that, Kai tightened his grip on the sword resting beside him, its cold hilt reassuring in his hand. Slowly, he let the darkness of exhaustion pull him under, battling the relentless paranoia that refused to leave him.