Running did not mean safety.
Li Chen knew this better than anyone.
The group fled beneath the warped jade sky, their breaths ragged, feet striking broken stone as the Realm of Hidden Origins shifted behind them like a living thing dissatisfied with its prey. Space continued to ripple in the distance, folding and unfolding in slow, deliberate movements—too slow to be panic, too precise to be chance.
The realm was not chasing them.
It was deciding whether they were worth killing.
"Don't slow down," Li Chen said quietly, even as his lungs burned. His tone was calm—too calm—but the others obeyed instinctively.
Zhao Feng gritted his teeth, blood still seeping from the earlier wound on his leg. Han Yu's face was pale, his water qi circulating constantly to stabilize his meridians against the oppressive pressure of the realm. The two sword sect disciples said nothing at all, their expressions tight with suppressed fear.
They burst into a region of jagged stone spires, uneven pillars stabbing upward like the fangs of some buried beast. The mist thinned here, replaced by erratic currents of wind that sliced unpredictably across the terrain.
Li Chen skidded to a halt.
"Here," he said. "This place interferes with spatial locking."
Zhao Feng nearly slammed into him. "You sure? Because I'd rather not die standing still!"
Li Chen nodded once. "I'm sure."
He moved quickly now.
With practiced efficiency, Li Chen flicked his wrist, releasing a handful of formation flags that embedded themselves between the stone spires. His movements were precise but restrained—never excessive, never flashy. Qi flowed just enough to activate the arrays without drawing the realm's attention.
A Mist-Shadow Concealment Formation bloomed silently.
The air warped.
From the outside, the area now appeared empty—winds howling through vacant stone, no trace of life.
Inside, the pressure eased slightly.
Everyone sagged with relief.
Han Yu exhaled slowly. "You prepared this?"
Li Chen shook his head. "I prepare for not dying."
No one laughed.
They had learned better.
Zhao Feng dropped to one knee, biting back a groan. "That thing earlier… it wasn't a beast. It was part of the realm, wasn't it?"
"Yes," Li Chen said. "And it wasn't attacking randomly."
The sword sect disciple beside him frowned. "Then why us?"
Li Chen did not answer immediately.
Because we lingered.
Because we took treasure.
Because we survived once.
He settled for the safest truth.
"Because we were noticeable."
Silence followed.
The wind outside the formation grew sharper, screaming through the spires with an almost mournful tone. For a brief moment, Li Chen thought he sensed something pass nearby—a vast, unfocused awareness brushing against the formation like a hand testing thin glass.
He held his breath.
Minutes passed.
Then the pressure receded.
It had moved on.
"Rest," Li Chen said softly. "But not for long."
They did not argue.
Zhao Feng swallowed a healing pill, grimacing as it dissolved. Han Yu sat cross-legged, quietly restoring his qi. The sword sect disciples kept watch, rotating shifts without complaint.
Li Chen remained standing.
His gaze never left the gaps between the stone spires.
Escaping danger doesn't mean it's gone, he thought. It means it's waiting.
After half an hour, Li Chen spoke again. "We can't stay together."
Zhao Feng looked up sharply. "What?"
"The realm has marked us as a group," Li Chen continued. "If we move together, the next 'adjustment' will be worse."
Han Yu's expression tightened. "…You're saying we split up."
"Yes."
The word hung heavy in the air.
The sword sect disciples exchanged glances. One of them clenched his fists. "That's suicide."
Li Chen met his gaze calmly. "Staying together is delayed execution."
Zhao Feng cursed under his breath. "Damn it…"
Han Yu closed his eyes briefly, then nodded. "He's right."
Zhao Feng stared at him. "You trust him that much?"
Han Yu opened his eyes. "I trust the fact that we're alive."
That ended the argument.
They prepared quickly.
Routes were chosen—diverging paths that led toward regions of unstable terrain, interference zones, and qi turbulence. Dangerous places.
But places where the realm's attention would be diffuse.
Before leaving, Zhao Feng tossed Li Chen a small jade slip. "Emergency signal. One-time use. If you're about to die—crush it."
Li Chen caught it, surprised.
"…You should keep it," he said.
Zhao Feng snorted. "You're better at not dying than I am."
Han Yu approached next, pressing a cold jade bead into Li Chen's palm. "Water Ward. It'll block one fatal strike."
Li Chen hesitated.
Then accepted.
"…Thank you."
The sword sect disciples bowed stiffly. No words were exchanged.
Then they left—one by one—vanishing into the twisted landscape until Li Chen stood alone within the fading formation.
Silence returned.
True silence.
Li Chen dismantled the formation carefully, erasing all traces of their presence. When he was finished, the stone spires were once again nothing more than jagged rock beneath a hostile sky.
He exhaled slowly.
Escaped, he thought.
But there was no relief.
Only resolve.
He turned toward the most unstable region visible in the distance—a valley where gravity bent oddly and the air shimmered like heat haze.
Dangerous.
Unpredictable.
Perfect.
Li Chen adjusted his breathing, suppressed his aura to near-nothing, and stepped forward without hesitation.
In the Realm of Hidden Origins, survival did not belong to the strongest.
It belonged to those who knew when to run, when to hide…
…and when to disappear completely.