After Tu Shun left, Team Twelve moved like men who had just cut away a gangrenous limb.
It hurt. It felt wrong. But it also meant they might keep walking.
Sun Jiao led them off the ridge pine line and down into a shallow valley where the wind didn't carry scent as far. They avoided the ravine mouth paths where other teams would cluster and fight. Sun Jiao didn't want treasure. He wanted a return route.
That was why Wuchen didn't hate him.
Not yet.
They made camp without calling it camp. No hollow this time. No neat branch screen. Just sleeping in rotation beneath scattered boulders, never all in one place.
Qin Sui took first watch again.
Ma Qiao sat with his back to rock, wrist tucked into his belt cloth to keep swelling down. He didn't complain. Complaining was how you invited being left.
The freckled boy, whose name Wuchen finally heard as Liang Zhi, chewed on a grain cake like it was punishment. He kept glancing at Wuchen as if Wuchen was both savior and curse.
Sun Jiao ate in silence, then said quietly, "We move before dawn."
Nobody argued.
Wuchen didn't sleep much.
He lay with his cheek against stone and listened to the mountain's breathing. Somewhere far below, beasts roared and answered one another, sounds rolling through the ravine like thunder trapped underground.
Then, near the end of the night, a new smell rode the air.
Smoke.
Not pine smoke.
A bitter, oily smoke, like burned resin mixed with crushed herbs.
Wuchen's eyes opened fully.
Sun Jiao was already sitting up, gaze fixed toward the ravine.
Qin Sui whispered, "Fire?"
Ma Qiao sniffed, face tightening. "Not campfire," he muttered. "Talisman burn."
Sun Jiao's jaw clenched. "Someone opened something," he said.
Wuchen didn't ask what. He already knew the shape.
Ruin smoke.
People burned talismans when they found doors that didn't open with hands.
The mountain was announcing the ruin mouth without using words.
Sun Jiao stood slowly. "We don't go," he said.
Liang Zhi's eyes widened. "But captain, if there's a ruin—"
Sun Jiao cut him off. "If there's a ruin, inner disciples go first," he said. "Outer teams go to die second."
Liang Zhi swallowed, lips trembling. "Then why are we here?"
Sun Jiao looked at him coldly. "To bring back what doesn't try to kill us," he replied.
Ma Qiao muttered, "Treasure still kills."
Qin Sui's eyes stayed on the smoke direction. "Others will come," she said.
Sun Jiao nodded. "Yes," he said. "And fights will happen. Which means beasts will come too."
Wuchen listened, then spoke quietly for the first time without being asked. "The thin man," he said.
Sun Jiao's gaze flicked to him. "He'll be there," Sun Jiao said. "And now he has a reason."
Wuchen's throat tightened. "He will want payment."
Sun Jiao nodded once. "Then we stay away," he said.
They began moving before dawn, but the mountain didn't let them move cleanly.
As they skirted the valley edge, they heard voices.
Not close. Not yet.
A cluster of shouting, then a scream cut short.
Then, after a long pause, a low chant—words in sect tongue, shaped like a talisman activation.
The smoke thickened, drifting up through trees like a signal flag.
Teams were converging.
The ruin mouth was pulling them like hunger.
Sun Jiao stopped behind a fallen log and listened. "We go around," he said. "Wide."
Ma Qiao nodded. Qin Sui agreed. Liang Zhi looked like he wanted to cry.
Wuchen kept his gaze down, but his mind tightened.
Going wide avoided people.
It also avoided news.
And Wuchen needed one thing more than herbs.
He needed to know what Gu Yan wanted from this ruin.
Because Gu Yan had sent him maps. Gu Yan had pushed Beast Tide Season. Gu Yan had used him to learn Lan's hunger.
That meant Gu Yan's hand was somewhere near the ruin mouth.
And if Gu Yan's hand was there, Wuchen might be pulled toward it whether he wanted it or not.
They moved wide, climbing into rockier ground where scrub pine grew thin. The wind was colder there, and the smoke smell faded slightly.
For an hour they walked without hearing voices.
Then Ma Qiao froze and held up a fist.
Sun Jiao stopped instantly.
Qin Sui crouched, spear ready.
Wuchen lowered himself behind a rock and listened.
Footsteps.
One person.
Running.
Coming up the slope toward them.
A figure burst out of brush and stumbled to a stop when he saw them.
An outer disciple from another team, robe torn, face smeared with blood and ash. His eyes were wild.
"Help," the man gasped. "Please—"
Sun Jiao didn't move closer. "What happened?" he asked flatly.
The man's breathing shook. "Ruin mouth," he rasped. "It opened. There was… there was light. People rushed in. Then something screamed."
His eyes darted around as if expecting the scream to appear behind him.
Ma Qiao muttered, "Always a scream."
The man grabbed his own hair like he wanted to rip it out. "The thin man," he whispered. "That bastard with narrow eyes—he said he had Qi Condensation, he'd protect us. He pushed us in first."
Wuchen's stomach dropped.
So the thin man wasn't just collecting revenge.
He was building a ladder with bodies.
The injured man continued, voice breaking. "Inside… there's smoke that eats breath. People coughed blood. Someone lit a talisman and the walls moved."
He swallowed hard. "And then… a beast."
Sun Jiao's eyes narrowed. "What beast?"
The man shook violently. "Not a beast," he whispered. "A… thing. Like stone and hair. It grabbed a man and pulled him into the wall."
Liang Zhi made a choking sound.
Qin Sui's face went pale, but she stayed still.
Ma Qiao muttered, "Ancient guard."
Sun Jiao's jaw clenched. "And you ran," he said.
The man nodded frantically. "Yes. Yes. I ran. But the thin man saw me run."
Wuchen's throat tightened. "He's chasing you," Wuchen said quietly.
The man's eyes locked on Wuchen like he'd been stabbed. "Yes," he whispered. "He said he'd take my legs."
Sun Jiao looked at the slope behind the man. "How far?" he asked.
The man swallowed. "Minutes," he said.
Sun Jiao's eyes were cold. He looked at his team.
If they helped this man, they invited the thin man and his group again.
If they didn't, they watched a man get his legs taken and carried that sound in their sleep.
Sun Jiao didn't like either.
Wuchen didn't either.
But Wuchen saw something else.
If the thin man was chasing, he'd be out of position for the ruin mouth for a moment.
Which meant the ladder he was building would wobble.
And wobbles made openings.
Wuchen spoke softly. "Captain," he said.
Sun Jiao's gaze flicked to him. "Speak."
Wuchen kept his head lowered. "If the thin man comes," he said, "he'll look for me."
Sun Jiao's jaw tightened.
Wuchen continued, "If I'm not here," he said, "he'll still punish someone. He needs blood. He'll take it from this runner."
The injured man began shaking harder.
Wuchen's voice stayed flat. "We can trade him something else," he said.
Sun Jiao's eyes narrowed. "Like what?"
Wuchen's fingers curled. He didn't want to say it.
But he said it.
"Directions," he murmured. "To the ruin mouth."
Ma Qiao's eyes sharpened.
Qin Sui's gaze hardened.
Liang Zhi whispered, horrified, "We… we tell him?"
Sun Jiao stared at Wuchen for a long moment, then looked back toward the slope where footsteps might soon appear.
He spoke quietly. "If we do that," he said, "we invite him back into treasure."
Wuchen bowed his head. "He's already there," he said. "But if we give him the wrong direction…"
Sun Jiao's eyes narrowed further.
Wuchen didn't lift his gaze. "A wide wrong," he said. "Enough that he wastes time. Enough that he doesn't find us again tonight."
Ma Qiao breathed out slowly. "Lying with a map," he murmured, almost to himself.
Wuchen didn't answer.
Sun Jiao's jaw worked.
Then he nodded once, decision made.
He looked at the injured runner. "Stay quiet," he said. "If you scream, you die."
The runner nodded frantically.
Sun Jiao crouched behind a boulder and waited, saber ready.
Minutes passed.
Then the thin man arrived.
Narrow eyes. Long nose. Wrapped knee. Bandaged thigh. His face was calm, but his gaze was hungry and angry at once.
Behind him were three men now, not two. He had gathered more bodies.
His eyes swept the ridge and found them.
He smiled.
"Well," he said softly. "My little rat has friends."
Wuchen kept his head lowered.
Sun Jiao stepped forward, saber low. "You're off the ruin," Sun Jiao said. "Why?"
The thin man's smile widened. "Because someone ran," he said, and his gaze flicked to the injured runner. "And I don't like runners."
The runner trembled.
The thin man's eyes slid to Wuchen again. "And I don't like boys who throw stones," he added.
Sun Jiao didn't flinch. "What do you want?" he asked.
The thin man's voice stayed calm. "I want my payment," he said. "And I want him."
He pointed at Wuchen.
Wuchen felt the leash tighten in his chest again.
Sun Jiao spoke, steady. "You won't get him," he said. "But you can get something else."
The thin man's eyes narrowed. "Speak."
Sun Jiao nodded toward the smoke direction. "Ruin mouth," he said. "You're late. You're wasting time chasing scraps. Go back."
The thin man's smile sharpened. "You think you can order me?" he asked.
Sun Jiao's saber lifted a fraction. "No," he said. "I think you're greedy."
The thin man laughed softly. "True," he said.
Sun Jiao continued, "The roar came from the east ridge cut," he said, and pointed.
Wuchen's heart tightened.
Sun Jiao was pointing wide.
Too wide.
A wrong direction.
The thin man's eyes narrowed, calculating.
Wuchen kept his face dull. He let fear show in his posture, as if the direction pointed was real and he didn't want the thin man to go there.
Small acting. But acting all the same.
The thin man watched Wuchen's posture and smiled.
"Ah," he murmured. "So it's true."
Wuchen's stomach dropped.
He had been read.
The thin man looked back at Sun Jiao. "You're trying to buy me with direction," he said.
Sun Jiao didn't deny it. "Yes," he said.
The thin man nodded slowly. "Fine," he said. "I'll take it."
Then his gaze sharpened. "And I'll still take him later."
He stepped closer, qi pressure rising like cold water again. The freckled boy gasped. Ma Qiao's jaw clenched.
The thin man's eyes locked on Wuchen. "You," he said softly. "Stay alive."
Wuchen didn't answer.
The thin man smiled. "Because I want to break you slowly."
Then he turned and left, taking his three men with him, moving toward the direction Sun Jiao had pointed.
Only when his footsteps faded did the ridge feel breathable again.
The injured runner collapsed to his knees, sobbing silently.
Liang Zhi whispered, shaking, "He believed it."
Ma Qiao muttered, "He believed the boy's fear, not the captain's words."
Sun Jiao looked at Wuchen, eyes hard. "You just made yourself a target," he said.
Wuchen bowed. "I already was," he replied.
Sun Jiao's mouth tightened. "We move," he said.
They left the ridge quickly, pushing deeper into rock and shadow, away from the smoke, away from the ruin mouth.
But as they moved, Wuchen felt it.
The ruin had opened.
Smoke was in the air.
People were dying inside walls.
And somewhere, the thin man was walking toward a wrong direction with anger in his chest.
Wrong directions in the mountain didn't just waste time.
They created new fights.
New fights created new corpses.
And corpses, in Beast Tide Season, were the loudest kind of signal.