Ho Lam Uyen stepped out of the shrine, faint traces of incense smoke still clinging to her robe. Khanh and Le Vy quietly followed behind. Twilight had fallen, and the air carried a sharp chill as mountain winds swept through the narrow path.
Khanh shivered. Something unseen had stirred—he could feel it. A thread of his spiritual energy had been drawn away, slight yet unmistakable.
Not far from the village gate, an elderly couple stood waiting. Their faces were etched with the lines of age, but their eyes gleamed with an unsettling brightness, as though piercing through the three strangers.
"It is already dark, children," the old man spoke, his voice raspy and frail. "Stay the night. Rest here, taste our food, and enjoy our services. It will be safer."
Ho Lam Uyen inclined her head, smiling gently.
"Yes, sir. Then please show us to a lodging. Traveling at night, we might cross paths with mountain bandits."
Khanh and Vy exchanged a brief glance but raised no objection. With their master by their side, they felt somewhat reassured. After all, the night teemed with lesser and mid-tier spirits; wandering outside now would only invite them. Even concealing one's spiritual energy could not always hide the scent of living flesh.
Before long, the three were settled in a modest inn. The roof leaned slightly, lamplight flickered against the walls, and the hum of crickets filled the night air.
The old couple welcomed them warmly, though there was a strange loneliness in their words:
"Few travelers come here anymore. We have no children of our own, so whenever someone visits the shrine, it eases our solitude. Please, make yourselves at home. Come eat with us—tonight we have a fine meat stew prepared."
Lam Uyen smiled brightly yet declined with a shake of her head.
"Thank you, but we brought our own provisions. We would not trouble you."
Back in their room, lit only by the dim flame of an oil lamp, she drew three parcels of rice balls from her robe. Each was wrapped neatly in banana leaves, warm and fragrant.
"Eat."
Khanh unwrapped his share. The rice was soft, mixed with sesame and salt, releasing a simple yet comforting aroma.
But the moment he tasted it, a voice echoed in his mind—Lam Uyen's voice:
"If you can hear me, do not answer aloud."
Both Khanh and Vy froze, staring at each other before turning to their master. Her face remained calm, almost serene, yet her voice pressed directly into their thoughts again:
"We are within the enemy's domain. Every word spoken can be overheard. From this moment, be cautious. A single mistake—whether in food, drink, or the smallest action—may lead to death. Act as though nothing is amiss. Tonight, I will teach you your first lesson."
Then, as though nothing had transpired, she broke into light laughter and spoke cheerfully:
"These rice balls are delicious, aren't they? Traveling for good fortune, and finding such a cozy place to rest—it feels like a blessing! You two should feel lucky. Now eat well and get some sleep."
Le Vy caught on quickly and replied with feigned ease:
"Yes, Master."
Khanh remained silent, swallowing the last of his bite as his heart pounded heavily.
Night had fallen upon the village of An Trach—and the unseen game had just begun.