Chapter 148
The forest did not retreat after the killing.
It watched.
Rain continued to fall, heavier now, striking leaves and twisted branches with sharp insistence. Steam rose from the broken body at Shenping's feet, blood mixing with mud and raw energy until the ground hissed softly.
The two remaining figures backed away.
Fear here was not civilized. It was instinctive, animal, stripped of pride. One of them snarled, trying to bare dominance, but its eyes betrayed calculation. Survival mattered more than ego in this era.
"You don't belong," the taller one said, voice cracking into layered echoes. "No clan scent. No mark."
Shenping said nothing.
His chest burned as the wild cultivation surged and receded unpredictably. This power did not circulate. It collided. It tore through him like floodwater through a broken dam, leaving damage in its wake.
The machine consciousness attempted to intervene. "Internal pathways destabilizing. Recommend immediate cessation."
Shenping ignored it.
The remaining two lunged together, crude coordination driven by long habit. Their movements were fast but sloppy, fueled by excess rather than control.
Shenping sidestepped.
His foot sank into mud, balance faltering. One clawed hand tore across his shoulder, flesh ripping open. Pain flared bright and clean.
He welcomed it.
Pain anchored him to now.
He seized the attacker's wrist and twisted, not with technique but leverage, raw force amplified by uncontrolled energy. Bone snapped. The creature shrieked, sound warping as its throat struggled to produce a human scream.
The second struck from behind.
Too late.
Shenping slammed his elbow backward, feeling ribs collapse. He followed through without pause, driving the creature into the ground with enough force to crater the earth beneath it.
Silence returned to the clearing.
Shenping stood there, breathing hard, rain washing blood from his hands. His wounds throbbed, edges already beginning to knit together under the influence of the violent energy saturating the land.
The machine spoke again, quieter now. "Healing response… accelerated. Mechanism unidentified."
"Adapt," Shenping muttered.
He turned toward the surviving villager.
The man lay on his side, coughing wetly, eyes wide with terror. His leg was twisted at an impossible angle, blood soaking the remains of his robe. He stared at Shenping as though looking at something worse than his attackers.
Shenping crouched beside him slowly.
"I'm not going to kill you," he said.
The man did not relax.
"This place," Shenping continued, gesturing faintly at the forest, "is it always like this?"
The man swallowed. "Worse," he whispered. "Much worse."
Shenping nodded.
That fit.
He pressed his palm to the man's chest, carefully releasing a fraction of the wild energy within him. Not enough to harm. Just enough to stabilize.
The man gasped, color returning faintly to his face. "What… what are you?"
Shenping hesitated.
"A traveler," he said finally.
From behind the trees came movement.
Not hostile.
Cautious.
Figures emerged—five of them, armed with crude blades and spears carved with glowing runes that flickered erratically. They formed a loose semicircle, weapons raised but uncertain.
Their leader was a woman, tall and broad-shouldered, her hair bound with strips of leather and bone charms. Her eyes were sharp, old beyond her years.
She took in the bodies on the ground, the surviving villager, and Shenping standing alone in the rain.
"You did this," she said. Not a question.
"Yes."
She studied him for a long moment. "You're not from the clans nearby."
"No."
"Good," she said. "They would've come for revenge already."
She lowered her blade slightly. "Name."
Shenping paused.
Names mattered here.
"Shenping."
A murmur passed through the group. The leader's eyes narrowed. "Strange name."
"Yours?"
"Qiao Mu," she replied. "This was our scouting party."
She gestured toward the fallen villagers. "Or what's left of it."
Shenping felt something tighten inside him. "How often does this happen?"
"Often enough that we stopped counting," Qiao Mu said. "Cultivators hunt us. Beasts hunt us. Sometimes the land hunts us."
She pointed her blade at him again, though her grip was looser now. "And sometimes strangers fall out of storms and kill monsters."
Shenping almost smiled.
"Come with us," Qiao Mu said abruptly. "You'll die alone out here."
"I'm good at surviving," Shenping replied.
She snorted. "Everyone says that right before they don't."
Rain began to ease, leaving the forest dripping and tense.
Shenping looked around—the twisted trees, the scarred earth, the lingering sense of predation. This era was not a place to pass through quietly.
It demanded blood.
It demanded growth.
He nodded. "All right."
Qiao Mu turned, already moving. "Try not to fall behind, traveler."
As they walked, Shenping felt it again—the pull of origin, stronger now, rooting him deeper into this brutal age.
Far away, in futures yet to be rebuilt, machines adjusted parameters, unaware that the past had just acquired something they could not calculate.
A survivor.
And a storm.