The emerald beacon from Li's jade was a needle plunged into the eye of the Azure Cloud camp. For a moment, there was stunned silence, broken only by the frantic shouting of officers and the metallic clatter of soldiers scrambling for their gear. On the high ridge, Li watched the organized chaos he had ignited. He saw torches flare to life, swarming like angry fireflies within the palisade walls. He saw the main gate swing open.
He didn't wait to see more. He turned and ran.
He was not fleeing. He was leading. He moved with a speed that was no longer entirely human, his feet barely seeming to touch the forest floor. The jade, held firmly in his hand, was no longer just a glowing lure; it was a compass, and he was its needle, pulling an entire army on an invisible tether. He could feel their pursuit—a roiling mass of aggressive intent, a storm of metal and malice following the brilliant green star he carried.
He led them on a twisting, punishing route. He did not take the easy game trails. He led them through dense, thorny thickets that tore at their armor, across icy, chest-deep streams that stole their breath, and over sharp, scree-covered slopes that turned their advance into a clumsy, cursing slog. He was a ghost, a flicker of green light always just at the edge of their vision, always disappearing around the next bend, always staying maddeningly out of reach.
Officer Jiao, riding at the head of his forty-strong contingent, felt a cold fury building in his gut. This was not the cautious, defensive hunt he had planned. This was a mockery. The boy was toying with them, leading them on a brutal dance through this accursed valley. He could feel the morale of his men fraying. They were soldiers, not mountain goats. They were trained for formation and battle, not for chasing a will-o'-the-wisp through a briar patch.
"Faster!" Jiao roared, his voice cracking like a whip. "He is one boy! He cannot keep this pace forever!"
But Li could. The jade fed him, its energy flowing into his weary muscles, washing away the lactic acid burn, filling his lungs with clean, cold fire. He was not just running; he was the river, he was the wind, he was the unyielding stone. The forest bent to aid him. A branch would swing low to block a path behind him. A patch of seemingly solid ground would give way to mud under the feet of the pursuing soldiers. The land itself was his ally, responding to the Heart he carried.
Back at the fort, the departure of the main force had left a palpable void. The silence was profound, broken only by the crackle of the central fire and the low, fearful murmurs of the prisoners in the stockade. Ten soldiers remained, looking nervously at the dark forest beyond the walls. Their confidence, bolstered by numbers, had evaporated with Jiao's departure.
This was Mei's moment.
She waited until the moon was high, a sliver of silver peeking through scudding clouds. Dressed in a cloak of woven moss and shadows, her face smeared with mud, she was invisible against the dark wood of the palisade. She had chosen her point of entry not the heavily guarded gate, but a section at the rear where the wall met the riverbank. The soil was soft here, perpetually damp, and the logs were slightly rotten.
Using a digging stick tipped with a sharpened deer antler, she began to work. It was painstaking, agonizingly slow labor. Every scrape of the antler against wood sounded like a thunderclap in her ears. She paused every few seconds, listening for the change in the guards' footsteps, for any sign she had been discovered.
Minutes stretched into an hour. Her muscles ached. Her hands were raw. But she dug on, driven by the memory of the villagers' terrified faces.
Finally, with a soft, wet crunch, the antler broke through. She had created a small hole, just large enough to wriggle through. She took a deep, steadying breath, and slipped inside the lion's den.
Li reached the Canyon of the Whispering Stones as the moon reached its zenith. The place was exactly as he had envisioned it for the jade: a narrow, rocky defile, its walls soaring fifty feet high on either side. The wind, funneled through the narrow passage, did indeed whisper—a low, mournful sound that seemed to speak of lost battles and forgotten bones.
He stopped in the very center of the canyon and turned, finally facing his pursuers. He stood alone, a small, still figure in the vast, moon-washed gorge. In his hand, the jade blazed, its green light painting the stone walls in eerie, shifting patterns.
Jiao and his soldiers poured into the canyon mouth, their torches creating a pool of angry, flickering light. They saw him, and a collective roar of triumph and rage went up. They had him. He was cornered.
"So, the Forest Demon reveals himself," Jiao called out, his voice echoing mockingly in the stone chamber. He dismounted, drawing his sword. "Your little game is over, boy. Give me the artifact, and I will make your death quick."
Li didn't answer. He simply looked at them, his jade-green eyes calm. He had led them here. The bait had been taken. Now, it was time for the echo.
He closed his eyes and reached deep, not for the jade's power, but for its connection. He was not a boy calling for help. He was the Guardian, awakening the sentinel.
He focused on the canyon walls. On the immense, precarious balance of the stone. On the patient, grinding weight of millennia. He poured that feeling into the jade, and the jade amplified it, sending a silent, seismic pulse into the earth.
The ground beneath the soldiers' feet trembled. Not a violent quake, but a deep, resonant shudder, as if the mountain had taken a great, waking breath.
Jiao's triumphant smile faltered. "What trickery is this?"
Li opened his eyes. "No trickery," he said, his voice carrying with an unnatural clarity. "You are not standing on ground. You are standing on the mountain's doorstep. And you are not welcome."
He slammed the butt of his spear into the stone at his feet.
The echo that answered was not a sound. It was a movement.
With a groan that seemed to tear from the world's very core, the left-hand canyon wall shuddered. A massive slab of rock, loosened by the subtle vibration and centuries of erosion, broke free. It didn't crash down immediately. It slid, grinding and roaring, a slow, inevitable avalanche of stone that completely blocked the canyon entrance, sealing Jiao and his forty men inside with him.
The triumphant roars turned to screams of terror. The torches wavered, their light revealing panicked faces staring at the wall of stone that had just cut off their retreat. They were trapped.
Li stood unmoved, the jade's light glinting in his calm, terrible eyes. He had not just led them into a canyon. He had led them into a tomb of his own making. The hunt was over. The reckoning had begun.