Two months passed in the Harrow Mountains, measured not by days but by the slow accumulation of scars, close calls, and the steady sharpening of Han Yu's instincts.
By the time he realized just how far he had traveled, he had already crossed to the other side of the mountain range and reached the outer edge of the Inner Ring on that side. In terms of distance, he was finally halfway to Harrow Edge Town.
Yet instead of relief, what greeted him was unease.
Han Yu came to a halt atop a jagged ridge, crouching low as icy wind swept past him. He did not stop because his body was tired. His Qi reserves were stable, his movements still crisp, and his soul cultivation allowed him to remain alert even after long stretches without proper rest.
He stopped because the land ahead of him was wrong.
The terrain before him was littered with massive ritual circles.
