For days, the wilderness stretched without end.
No pagodas now, no towering ruins—only forests reborn from chaos. The scars of battle still carved the land like old wounds, yet new growth already crept through the cracks, defiant and green.
Karma moved silently across the uneven terrain, his robe ragged, his hair tied loosely behind his head. Each step carried a silent steadiness born of a body reforged in hardship. He no longer walked like a desperate wanderer, but like someone the wilderness itself had tested and accepted.
Seventy-three hours since leaving the ruins. No hostile presences detected within eight kilometers. Congratulations, Host—you're officially lost in peace. Mira's voice was placid.
Karma smiled faintly. "I'll take peace over company of demons any day."
The wind here was clean, thin, filled with faint qi currents that brushed against his senses. Somewhere ahead, the distinct, sharp scent of smoke drifted faintly.
Civilization.
His heart stirred. He hadn't seen another human since the day the sky exploded.
The Road Beyond the Ridge
The land sloped downward into a broad valley. A thin dirt road wound through it—scarred, but intact. Tracks scored the soil: wagon wheels, beast prints, human boots.
Karma crouched, fingers brushing the impressions. "Recent," he murmured. "Less than a day."
Probability of caravan activity—high. Suggest you hide the glowing-lotus-heart feature before greeting anyone.
He chuckled softly. "Good call."
He drew his cloak tighter, suppressing the faint green pulse under his chest and reducing his qi signature until it was indistinguishable from a late-stage Qi Condensation cultivator. Better to appear weak and inconspicuous.
Then he walked.
Hours passed before he heard it—the faint clatter of wheels, the jingle of harness bells, human voices.
Karma crested a low hill and froze.
Below, moving along the dusty road, was a caravan of about a dozen wagons. Massive horned spirit-oxen pulled the loads, each cart sheathed in faint spiritual arrays for protection. Merchants walked beside them, while guards in light armor scanned the hillsides. Banners fluttered on the lead wagon, marked with the emblem of a silver crescent—unfamiliar to him.
After weeks of silence, the sight of people made his chest tighten with an unexpected mix of relief and anxiety.
First Contact
He descended the slope slowly, hands visible, no weapon drawn.
The guards noticed immediately. Swords lifted, talismans crackled to life. A man with a scar across his jaw barked, "Stop right there!"
Karma raised both hands. "Easy. I am not here to cause trouble. Just a traveler."
One of them narrowed his eyes. "A traveler? In the Wild Expanse? That's suicide."
"Guess I got lucky." Karma smiled mildly, letting exhaustion show just enough to seem human.
The scarred man studied him for a long moment, then relaxed slightly. "State your name and realm."
"Karma Hi. Foundation Esta—" he caught himself, then added, "—late Qi Condensation." he corrected himself smoothly. The lie tasted like necessity. Better for them to underestimate him.
Murmurs rippled through the group. The man frowned, but eventually gestured toward the wagons. "You're either insane or blessed. Either way, if you can pay your share in spirit stones or labor, you can tag along till the next city."
"Deal."
As Karma approached, his gaze swept across the caravan—merchants whispering, guards scanning, children peeking from wagon flaps.
And then, at the third wagon from the front, his breath caught.
She was there.
Su Liana sat atop a crate, her long silver hair dulled by dust, her robe torn at the shoulder. She stared blankly at the horizon, eyes unfocused, as if seeing somewhere far away.
Even covered in grime and fatigue, her presence was unmistakable—serene yet distant, the quiet glow of moonlight through clouds.
Karma stopped in his tracks. The world seemed to narrow until only she existed.
Heart rate spike detected. Please refrain from fainting dramatically. Mira's warning was ignored.
"Su Liana…"
It had been more than a month, but to him it felt like years. The last time he saw her, she'd been reaching out through chaos, her voice lost in thunder.
Now she sat barely twenty paces away—alive, yet not the same. She looked exhausted, haunted.
He stepped closer.
One of the guards near her noticed and scowled. "You again? Stay with your group, stranger."
Karma raised a placating hand. "Relax. I just… thought I recognized someone."
Su Liana turned at the sound of his voice.
For a moment, her tired eyes met his—clear, pale, beautiful. He expected recognition, relief, perhaps even surprise.
There was none.
Her gaze lingered, uncertain, then drifted past him as though she were looking at a stranger passing by on the road.
Karma's chest tightened painfully.
Of course she wouldn't recognize him.
His face had changed—sharper jawline, deeper green-gold eyes, a faint, bronze undertone to his skin that spoke of the refined mortal body. His aura was no longer the messy, explosive presence of a survivor, but the calm, heavy flow of a young master. To her, he looked like a powerful young noble, not the tattered boy who once trained beside her.
She turned back to the road, whispering something to herself—too soft to hear.
Emotional distress detected. Recommend you don't blurt out "It's me" like a romance protagonist. Allow for observation.
Karma exhaled slowly, reeling from the sting of being unrecognized. "I am not dumb."
He climbed onto the last wagon, keeping his distance. From there, he could still see her silhouette swaying slightly with the motion of the cart.
She was alive. That was enough. For now, he would be a silent.