Chapter 32 – Instincts of the Past
Mist drifted low across the moss-choked ground as the trio stood in the aftermath of battle. The three beasts lay still — strange, bone-spiked forms leaking dark ichor that steamed faintly where it touched the earth. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the ragged rhythm of Zhou Fang's breath and the soft hiss of fire fading from his arms.
He Chen Qi, still cloaked by his illusion tool, studied Zhou Fang in silence. The red-haired youth flexed his fingers, cracked his neck, and spared a glance at the shallow gash along his forearm.
"You're bleeding," Yan Qing'er said, her voice low as she stepped closer.
"It's fine," Zhou Fang replied. "Not deep."
He Chen Qi didn't speak. His gaze swept the clearing, taking in the scene one last time before returning to Zhou.
That wasn't just strength. That was insight. Sharp reactions, tight execution — even caught off guard, he moved like someone who's fought hundreds of battles.
He didn't fight like a Rank 3 kid. No hesitation. No wasted motion.
Zhou's movements had been wild, almost reckless — but with brutal precision behind every strike. He hadn't relied on technique so much as instinct. Deep, old instinct.
And that troubled Liu Guan Yi.
He turned, sheathing his blade. "Move. This place reeks of blood. More will come."
They pressed deeper into the Third Layer. The fog thickened with every step, coiling between the ancient roots that webbed the forest floor. Spirit-wasps flickered in the branches above, their glow like drifting stars. The roots themselves twisted into eerie, natural arches, forming paths both beautiful and foreboding.
Yan Qing'er walked with calm purpose, blade sheathed but hand always close to the hilt. She moved like a disciple — steady, watchful.
Zhou Fang stalked ahead like a predator. His boots had burned through in the last clash; now he walked barefoot, but didn't seem to notice or care.
He Chen Qi stayed behind, watching.
He doesn't flinch from pain. Doesn't ask questions. Doesn't hesitate to kill.
His aggression's not reckless. Every strike earlier had purpose — even the dirt cloud. A timed feint.
He fights like a war general…
He glanced at Yan Qing'er.
And she follows him without realizing it. That's not discipline. That's trust born of survival. They've fought together before.
But even she didn't see all of Zhou Fang's shadows.
They came to a ravine bathed in pale blue light. At the bottom, clusters of glowing mushrooms pulsed faintly, casting strange patterns on the stone walls. Two horned shadow-lizards circled each other below, locked in a silent, territorial dance.
He Chen Qi raised a hand. "We go around."
For once, Zhou didn't argue. He scanned the ridge, sharp eyes cutting through the mist.
"There," he said, pointing left. "Rock path. Safer footing."
Yan Qing'er blinked. "You saw that?"
Zhou shrugged. "I've got eyes."
More than eyes, Liu thought. A predator's vision. Like he knows where the traps would be.
They scaled the path in silence. The air grew colder, the fog thicker, until even the trees seemed to watch.
At last He Chen Qi spoke. His voice was quiet, but edged with intent. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"
Zhou glanced back, flames still smoldering faintly at his fingertips.
"You fight like you grew up in a war," He Chen Qi said.
Zhou paused. For a moment the forest seemed to hold its breath.
Then he smiled — sharp, knowing.
"Maybe I did."
And he turned, striding ahead without another word.
Yan Qing'er followed without hesitation. She didn't look surprised.