They did not speak for a long time after leaving the depression.
The land rolled outward in uneven stretches, grass broken by stone, the river glinting farther away as it bent through the basin. The sky felt too open. Too exposed. Wang Lin kept his pace steady, even as the weight of what had just happened pressed against his thoughts.
He had not acted.
And yet something fundamental had shifted.
Mei Niu stayed close, her hand brushing his arm now and then, not clinging, not fearful, simply present. Through the bond, he felt her tension easing slowly, replaced by something more complex. Relief mixed with unease. Gratitude tangled with concern.
Ying Yue broke the silence first.
"You understand what that was," she said.
"Yes," Wang Lin replied.
"Say it," she pressed.
He exhaled slowly. "They were testing whether I could be controlled."
"And," Ying Yue said, "whether you would allow it."
Wang Lin nodded.
Mei Niu looked between them. "They were not sect hunters."
"No," Ying Yue replied. "They were brokers."
"Worse," Wang Lin added. "They negotiate violence instead of committing it themselves."
Ying Yue's mouth curved into a humorless smile. "You learn fast."
They crested another rise and slowed, scanning the terrain ahead. The basin narrowed into a long stretch of broken ground where stone jutted upward like the ribs of something long dead. There were places to hide there. Also places to be trapped.
"We cannot stay in open land," Mei Niu said.
"No," Ying Yue agreed. "But we also cannot disappear completely. That invites pursuit."
Wang Lin considered that.
"Then we choose where we are visible," he said.
Ying Yue glanced at him. "You are thinking like prey that learned to bite."
"I am thinking like someone who does not want others choosing the ground for me," Wang Lin replied.
They moved toward the broken stone, picking a path that offered cover without bottlenecking them completely. As they traveled, Wang Lin felt it again. Not the probing pressure from before, but something broader. Diffuse.
Interest.
It was not focused on him alone this time. It brushed across Mei Niu. Across Ying Yue. Across the space between them.
He slowed.
Mei Niu noticed instantly. "What is it."
"I am not sure," Wang Lin replied. "But it is not singular."
Ying Yue crouched, pressing her palm to the ground. Her eyes closed briefly, then opened.
"Beasts," she said. "Several. Not hostile. Not aligned."
"How many," Wang Lin asked.
"Enough to notice," Ying Yue replied. "And to be noticed in return."
Mei Niu swallowed. "That will draw attention."
"Yes," Ying Yue said. "But not all attention is the same."
Wang Lin considered the emptiness within him. The way it had responded when the bound beast kin had been dragged forward. He had not pushed. He had not resisted.
He had refused.
"Let them come," he said.
Both Mei Niu and Ying Yue looked at him sharply.
"Are you certain," Mei Niu asked.
"No," Wang Lin replied. "But hiding will not stop what has already started."
They slowed further, then stopped near a cluster of tall stones that rose unevenly from the ground. The place felt old. Not sacred. Simply worn by time and passage.
They waited.
The first to arrive was cautious.
A low, heavy presence approached from the west, its awareness brushing the edges of Wang Lin's senses before retreating slightly. Then another from the north. Smaller. Quicker.
Wang Lin did not move.
He focused on breathing. On allowing his awareness to remain open without reaching.
The emptiness listened.
A shape emerged between the stones.
A boar.
Large. Scarred. One tusk chipped near the base. Its eyes were dark and intelligent, its stance wary but not aggressive.
It stopped several paces away and snorted softly.
Ying Yue remained still. Mei Niu did not move.
The boar's gaze slid over them, lingering on Mei Niu with a flicker of recognition, then settling on Wang Lin.
It tilted its head slightly.
The pressure intensified.
Wang Lin felt it testing him, searching for the familiar hooks of dominance, submission, threat. He felt none of that in return.
Only space.
The boar huffed again, a sound of confusion more than challenge.
Another presence approached.
Then another.
A fox stepped lightly into view, its tail flicking once. A bird perched atop a stone, feathers shimmering faintly with spiritual sheen. Even a lizard clung to the shaded side of a rock, its awareness sharp and alert.
They did not circle.
They observed.
Mei Niu's breath caught softly. "They are not forming hierarchy."
"No," Ying Yue murmured. "They are assessing."
Wang Lin felt sweat trickle down his spine, not from fear, but from effort. Maintaining this state took concentration. The emptiness did not demand strength, but it demanded honesty. Any attempt to manipulate would break it.
The boar took one step closer.
Wang Lin did not flinch.
The boar stopped, lowered its head slightly, then did something unexpected.
It turned.
Not away.
Toward the others.
It grunted softly, a low sound that carried information more than meaning.
The fox's ears flicked. The bird cocked its head.
The pressure shifted again.
Not toward Wang Lin.
Away from him.
"Something changed," Mei Niu whispered.
"They accepted a boundary," Ying Yue said slowly. "Without being forced."
Wang Lin felt a strange lightness in his chest. Not triumph. Not relief.
Recognition.
He had not claimed them.
He had not invited them.
He had simply refused to be a point of control.
One by one, the beasts withdrew.
Not fleeing.
Leaving.
The boar was the last to go. It paused, looked back at Wang Lin once more, then turned and disappeared among the stones.
The space felt emptier after they were gone.
Ying Yue exhaled slowly. "That should not have worked."
"I did not do anything," Wang Lin said.
"Yes," Ying Yue replied. "You did."
They moved again, traveling until the light softened and the air cooled. They chose a sheltered hollow among the stones for the night, one that allowed visibility without exposure.
As Wang Lin set their packs down, the tremor in his hands finally made itself known.
Mei Niu noticed and took his hands gently, grounding him without pulling him closer than necessary.
"You held a line," she said softly. "That is harder than fighting."
"I was afraid," Wang Lin admitted.
"Yes," she replied. "But you did not let fear choose for you."
That mattered more than he had realized.
They ate quietly.
Afterward, Ying Yue took watch again, positioning herself where she could see the approaches clearly. Mei Niu rested, her breathing slow and even, recovery settling in deeper this time.
Wang Lin sat with his back against stone and closed his eyes.
He focused inward, not seeking sensation, but understanding.
The emptiness was unchanged.
And yet it felt fuller.
Not with energy.
With definition.
He understood now that this path would not give him control in the way sects valued it. He would not command. He would not dominate.
He would set terms.
That would make enemies.
And something else.
Through the bond, Mei Niu stirred slightly, then spoke without opening her eyes.
"When they looked at you," she said quietly, "they did not see safety."
Wang Lin frowned. "Then what did they see."
"A place where rules ended," she replied. "And something fairer began."
That made his chest tighten.
"I do not know if I can be that," he said.
"You already are," she replied.
Night deepened.
In the distance, something howled once, then fell silent.
Ying Yue shifted her weight, ears flicking.
"They will talk," she said quietly. "Beasts. Brokers. Sects."
"Yes," Wang Lin replied.
"And they will test you again," Ying Yue continued. "Harder."
Wang Lin opened his eyes and looked at the stars overhead, scattered and indifferent.
"Then I will keep choosing," he said.
Ying Yue glanced back at him, her expression unreadable.
"That," she said, "is the most dangerous answer you could give."
Wang Lin did not disagree.
As sleep eventually claimed him, one thought lingered, steady and unavoidable.
Power taken demanded obedience.
Power offered demanded restraint.
And restraint, he was learning, was a line many would try to cross.
Tomorrow, someone would try again.
And Wang Lin would have to decide where the line ended.