Fate did not wait long.
It never did.
Three days after Chen Rui's fall, the sect announced a trial assignment for outer disciples—routine on the surface, deadly in truth.
Escort a supply caravan through the Grey Bone Valley.
Lin Ye heard the announcement and knew immediately.
So this is your answer.
Grey Bone Valley was infamous. Spirit beasts roamed freely, and the terrain itself devoured the careless. In his past life, this mission had been uneventful—for him.
But now?
He felt it again.
That pressure behind the eyes.
That tightening in the air.
Fate was no longer nudging.
It was pushing.
The caravan departed at dawn.
Ten outer disciples. Two inner-disciple supervisors.
Lin Ye walked near the middle, unremarkable, carrying supplies like everyone else.
Zhao Ming walked at the front, chatting easily with one of the supervisors.
Elder Sun had personally approved the roster.
Lin Ye noticed that too.
You're narrowing your search, he thought calmly.
Grey Bone Valley swallowed sound.
The stone walls rose high on either side, jagged and pale like the ribs of some ancient beast. The wind howled through narrow gaps, carrying with it a faint stench of decay.
They hadn't gone far when it happened.
A scream.
Sharp.
Sudden.
The disciple at the rear vanished—dragged screaming into the shadows before anyone could react.
Chaos erupted.
"Formation!" one supervisor shouted.
Too late.
The valley floor cracked open.
Bone Hounds burst forth—twisted spirit beasts formed of fused skeletons and rotting flesh, their eyes glowing a sickly green.
In his past life, these creatures hadn't appeared.
Lin Ye felt the backlash instantly.
This wasn't a natural encounter.
This was correction by violence.
"Defend the supplies!" Zhao Ming yelled, drawing his blade.
Lin Ye moved.
Not forward.
Sideways.
A Bone Hound lunged toward a panicking disciple.
Lin Ye stepped in, swinging a broken spear shaft with precise timing.
Crack.
The beast's skull shattered.
Gasps erupted.
Outer disciples stared.
That strike had been clean.
Too clean.
Lin Ye felt a ripple pass through the air.
Fate noticed.
More Bone Hounds emerged.
Too many.
One of the supervisors was dragged down, screaming as bones tore through flesh.
Blood sprayed across stone.
Lin Ye ducked, rolled, seized a fallen blade.
He moved like someone who had done this a thousand times.
Because he had.
He did not waste energy.
He did not hesitate.
Every strike was deliberate.
Every step intentional.
Still—
It wasn't enough.
A massive shadow rose behind the hounds.
Something bigger.
Older.
A Bone Tyrant.
It roared, and the valley shook.
Zhao Ming paled.
"This wasn't in the reports—!"
Lin Ye's chest tightened.
In his past life, this creature hadn't existed yet.
Fate was escalating.
Fine, Lin Ye thought. Let's escalate too.
The Bone Tyrant charged.
Lin Ye met it head-on.
The world slowed.
He saw every movement, every weakness.
But his body—
It wasn't ready.
The Tyrant's claw slammed into his chest.
Bones cracked.
Lin Ye flew back, smashing into the rock wall.
Pain exploded.
Blood filled his mouth.
The threads of fate wrapped tighter, squeezing.
Die, they seemed to whisper.
Lin Ye laughed weakly.
"Not yet."
He slammed his palm against the ground.
Not drawing on power—
But memory.
The Spirit Root.
Far beneath the sect, something stirred.
A faint pulse answered him.
Just enough.
The ground vibrated.
The Bone Tyrant hesitated.
Lin Ye rose.
His aura shifted.
Not stronger—
Heavier.
Like the world itself leaned toward him.
He stepped forward.
And thrust the blade into the Tyrant's eye.
A scream tore through the valley.
The creature collapsed.
Silence followed.
Broken only by labored breathing and the stench of blood.
They returned with fewer people.
Much fewer.
That night, Elder Sun stood alone in the Hall of Records.
His hands trembled as he read the mission report.
Impossible survival.
Unexpected beast evolution.
One outer disciple—Lin Ye—central to multiple turning points.
"Again…" he murmured.
The draft returned.
Stronger this time.
Lin Ye lay in bed, ribs aching.
He stared at the ceiling, unmoving.
Fate had struck back.
And failed.
But it wouldn't stop.
He closed his eyes.
"This is good," he whispered.
Because now—
Fate knew his name.