The forest did not forgive repetition.
Wang Lin felt it in the way the night pressed closer around their camp, in the way the insects went quiet in uneven waves instead of all at once. Mei Niu noticed it too. Her ears twitched constantly, her body angled toward the darkness even as she sat close to the fire.
"They are closer," she said softly.
"Hunters," Wang Lin replied.
"Yes."
They had moved twice since leaving Dustfall Town, never staying in one place longer than a single night. Still, the sense of being followed clung to them like a damp cloth. Not immediate pursuit, but intent. A pressure that did not fade with distance.
Mei Niu shifted, wincing slightly.
"You are hurting," Wang Lin said.
She hesitated, then nodded. "The bond accelerated my cycle," she admitted. "It is not painful yet, but it will become so if ignored."
Wang Lin looked at the forest, then back at her.
"We do not have much time," he said.
"No," she agreed. "Which is why we should not delay."
She met his eyes steadily.
"This is not like the first time," she said. "My body knows what to expect now. The pressure builds faster."
He nodded, listening.
"And because the bond is established," she continued, "the feedback will be stronger. More intense. For both of us."
Wang Lin took a slow breath. "Then we stop the moment you say so."
"Yes," she replied. "And this time, I will tell you what I need."
They prepared with the same care as before, if not more. Wang Lin checked their surroundings twice, then set up a low windbreak using fallen branches and cloth. The fire was reduced to embers, just enough to give warmth without throwing light far into the trees.
Mei Niu sat on a folded blanket, posture upright but tense.
"Before we begin," she said quietly, "there is something you should understand."
He waited.
"In the gardens, repetition was used to break us," she said. "They believed familiarity would erase resistance."
Her fingers tightened in the fabric of her skirt.
"For me, repetition without care does the opposite. It sharpens memory."
Wang Lin felt his chest tighten.
"Then tell me what is different," he said.
She exhaled slowly. "I need to be present," she said. "Not just safe. Aware. Chosen."
"You are," Wang Lin replied.
She nodded, then reached out and took his hand herself.
"Stay with me," she said. "Do not withdraw emotionally just because this has become… routine."
"I will not," he said.
She guided him closer, her movements deliberate. The warmth between them rose almost immediately, the bond responding as if eager, but she paused, holding his wrist.
"Slow," she reminded him.
He stilled instantly.
She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, grounding herself. Wang Lin could feel the thread between them tighten, not painfully, but with clarity. Awareness flowed both ways now. He could sense her tension, her anticipation, the careful control she was exerting.
"Now," she said.
The contact settled into place.
The reaction was stronger than before.
Energy flowed into Wang Lin with a clarity that startled him. It no longer felt unfamiliar. His body recognized the pattern, accepted it, refined it, and returned it almost instinctively. The pendant warmed, not sharply, but deeply, like a hearth rather than a spark.
Mei Niu gasped softly.
Her shoulders trembled as sensation spread through her body, more focused this time, less chaotic. She leaned into the connection, trusting it, trusting him.
"Yes," she murmured. "Like that."
The first container began to fill almost immediately.
The glow was brighter than before, steadier. Wang Lin noticed that the liquid seemed thicker, more cohesive, as if the energy within it had aligned more completely.
"Stronger," Mei Niu whispered. "It is already stronger."
Wang Lin adjusted his posture slightly, supporting her without pressing, staying exactly where she had guided him.
"Tell me if it is too much," he said.
She shook her head. "It is not too much. It is… balanced."
Her breathing deepened, the rhythm settling into something almost meditative. The pressure she had described eased visibly, her shoulders lowering, her grip on his sleeve relaxing as her body responded fully.
The second container filled faster than the first.
Wang Lin felt the feedback clearly this time. A gentle strengthening in his muscles. A sharpening of sensation along his skin. Not power in the way cultivators described it, but integration.
Chimera Body responded.
Not advancing, but stabilizing.
Mei Niu noticed.
"You are changing again," she said, voice soft but alert.
"I feel it," Wang Lin replied. "But it is not overwhelming."
"Good," she said. "It should not be. If it is, something is wrong."
The third container is filled.
Then the fourth.
Mei Niu's breathing grew heavier, not from distress, but from exertion. She leaned forward, resting her forehead briefly against his shoulder before straightening again.
"Do not stop yet," she said. "But prepare."
"For what?" he asked.
"For the end," she replied. "It will come faster this time."
He nodded, bracing himself, not physically, but mentally.
When the release came, it was not sudden.
It was deep.
A wave rather than a spike, flowing through the bond with surprising gentleness despite its intensity. Mei Niu shuddered, a quiet sound escaping her as the last container filled rapidly, its glow flaring briefly before settling into a steady radiance.
Then it was over.
She sagged slightly, breath coming in slow, controlled pulls as she grounded herself. Wang Lin withdrew immediately, moving back just enough to give her space without breaking presence.
She sat still for a long moment, eyes closed, hands resting loosely in her lap.
When she opened them, there was no fear there.
Only exhaustion and clarity.
"That," she said softly, "was nothing like the gardens."
Wang Lin swallowed. "I am glad."
She looked at the containers.
"All of them are Grade Three," she said. "And one… might be higher."
His stomach tightened.
"That is dangerous," he said.
"Yes," she agreed. "Which is why we cannot keep all of it."
She met his gaze.
"We must destroy at least one," she said. "Or give it away carefully. Too much evidence invites pursuit."
Wang Lin considered it, then nodded.
"You decide," he said.
She watched him closely.
"You trust me with this," she said.
"Yes."
She exhaled slowly. "Then listen carefully. The bond is stable now. Which means something else."
"What," he asked.
"I can feel you," she said. "Not constantly. But when you focus on me. And when danger draws near."
The words settled heavily between them.
"That could save us," Wang Lin said.
"It could also expose us," she replied. "If you are careless."
He nodded. "Then I will not be."
They covered the containers carefully, separating them into different packs. One was sealed and buried under loose soil, marked subtly for retrieval only if absolutely necessary.
The rest they prepared to move with.
The forest shifted again.
Both of them froze.
This time, the disturbance was not distant.
Footsteps.
Measured. Controlled.
Mei Niu's eyes met Wang Lin's.
"They are not beasts," she whispered.
Wang Lin extinguished the embers instantly, plunging their camp into darkness. He reached out, not touching her, but connecting through the bond, focusing his awareness.
The thread tightened.
Direction resolved.
Three.
Human.
Cultivators.
Hunters.
Mei Niu did not panic.
"North," she breathed. "There is a ravine."
Wang Lin nodded.
They moved without another word.
Behind them, a hunter paused at the edge of the abandoned camp, kneeling to examine the ground. His eyes narrowed as he sensed the lingering trace of something powerful.
Something that should not exist.
Far ahead, Wang Lin and Mei Niu disappeared into the trees, their bond steady, their danger no longer theoretical.
The hunt had drawn closer.
And they were no longer unprepared.