The cave was silent, save for the rhythmic dripping of water echoing off ancient stone walls.
Clark sat cross-legged, his breathing steady, his eyes closed. Three days had passed since the battle with the ancient bear. Three days since he had nearly died.
His body was still healing. Half his bones had been shattered. His left lung had been pierced. Three ribs had broken inward, nearly shredding his heart. Any ordinary cultivator would have been dead. Any ordinary cultivator would have begged for mercy, cried for help, or simply given up.
But Clark was not ordinary.
He never had been.
He opened his eyes. In the darkness of the cave, they glowed with a faint, eerie light—the mark of someone who had touched the Soul Path, who had brushed against death and come back changed.
• "Mao Hua."
Silence.
• "I know you're there. Stop pretending. You've been watching me for hours. Your energy flickers every time I breathe. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"
