Chapter 13 – Morning Shadows

Morning arrived in the pine-forested hillside with a hushed elegance. A pale sun struggled against a backdrop of gray clouds, painting the cabin's clearing in muted tones. Lan Zhuoran stepped outside first, exhaling a visible puff of breath into the crisp air. He peered around, scanning the surrounding brush. No footprints or signs of recent activity caught his eye, only the gentle sway of branches in a faint breeze.

Inside, Gao Tianrong helped Yin Feiyan re-bandage her arm. Her wound looked better, though not by much. The color had improved, but strain from travel and stress had slowed its healing. Still, she managed a resolute nod when asked if she could continue.

Lan Zhuoran returned, carrying a small handful of pine needles. "I found these outside," he said, crushing them between his fingers to release a sharp, clean scent. "Auntie Qiu once told me they can help with minor infections if boiled."

Yin Feiyan tilted her head, intrigued. "Useful. Let's give it a try."

Gao Tianrong knelt by the stove, stirring the embers back to life. Soon, a small pot of water hissed as the pine needles were added. The resulting aroma was both invigorating and slightly medicinal. Yin Feiyan dipped a cloth in the mixture and gingerly dabbed at her wound, biting her lip at the initial sting.

While she tended to her arm, Lan Zhuoran stepped out again to check on the mule. The animal stood tethered near a low-hanging pine bough, nibbling on patches of sparse grass. He patted its flank gently. "Sorry about all this," he murmured. The mule flicked an ear, unconcerned with their troubles so long as it had food and rest.

Moments later, Gao Tianrong joined him in the clearing, scanning the tree line with a practiced eye. "We should move soon," he said quietly. "I don't trust the Syndicate to give up. They might not know our exact location, but they'll likely comb the area."

Lan Zhuoran nodded. "Agreed. Any idea of the best route from here?"

Gao Tianrong pointed eastward, toward the slope that rose beyond the cabin. "There's a series of ravines and canyons about two days away. We can navigate them if we're careful. That path eventually circles toward the southwestern approach to the capital. Not many travelers choose that route—it's rugged and easy to get lost—but that's an advantage for us."

A swirl of apprehension tightened Lan Zhuoran's stomach. Another two days of rugged travel, plus however many more to skirt the main roads. Meanwhile, the Black Wolf Syndicate might be closing in. Yet Gao was right: stealth was their best weapon now. "Let's do it," he said, squaring his shoulders.

They took a few minutes to gather the modest supplies left in the cabin. Yin Feiyan emerged, looking pale but determined. The pine-needle compress had relieved some inflammation in her wound, though she clutched the relic protectively under her good arm. With a quiet nod of thanks to the old hunting shelter—no one would ever know how it had served them—they set off once again.

Their path led them up a gradual incline covered in layers of pine needles, muffling their footsteps. The thick canopy overhead blocked much of the morning sun, casting shifting patterns of shadow across the ground. Occasionally, a glimmer of light pierced through, highlighting columns of dust motes in the still air.

Every so often, Gao Tianrong paused, raising a hand to signal for silence. They held their breaths, listening for snapping twigs or hushed voices. But no immediate threats emerged, only the rustle of forest life. Lan Zhuoran found himself both relieved and uneasy—this calm felt like a fragile gift, liable to shatter without warning.

They trudged onward until midday, stopping near a rocky outcrop that overlooked a shallow valley. The vantage point allowed them to see for miles, though the view was muddled by a haze of cloud drifting in from the north. Yin Feiyan sank onto a flat rock, massaging her injured arm. Lan Zhuoran silently offered her a piece of dried meat; she accepted it with a grateful smile.

From this height, a faint path was visible, snaking through the valley and disappearing into a cluster of rugged hills. "That's where we're headed," Gao Tianrong said, pointing. "We'll need to descend into the valley, cross the stream below, and make our way up the opposite ridge. With luck, we can shelter there tonight."

Lan Zhuoran shielded his eyes from the pale sun, scrutinizing the terrain. Deep gullies carved through the valley floor, their slopes dotted with stunted trees and thick shrubs. Perfect cover for an ambush, he realized, swallowing. But there was no turning back.

"All right," Yin Feiyan murmured, rising to her feet. "Let's keep going. The faster we're across, the less chance they'll have to trap us here."

They began their descent, carefully picking their way down the steep, uneven path. The mule brayed nervously once or twice, forcing Lan Zhuoran to coax it along. Behind them, the sky darkened with brooding clouds, as if foreshadowing the difficulties ahead.

Halfway down, Yin Feiyan stumbled, a soft cry escaping her as she clutched her arm. Lan Zhuoran hurried to help her regain balance. Her face contorted in pain. "I'm fine," she insisted breathlessly, but her pallor worried him.

"Here," Gao Tianrong offered, cutting away some trailing vines to create a makeshift sling for her injured arm. With a few deft knots, he fashioned a stable support, reducing the jostling. "That should help keep the wound still."

Yin Feiyan let out a shaky exhale of relief, nodding her thanks. Renewing their efforts, they continued down until they reached the valley floor. The stream's murmur soothed Lan Zhuoran's nerves, if only briefly. He refilled their waterskins while Gao Tianrong and Yin Feiyan scanned the surrounding gullies.

As they pressed deeper into the valley, the landscape grew wilder. Massive rocks littered the ground like scattered chess pieces, forming natural hideouts. Gnarled brush twisted in every direction, and spiky wildflowers peeked from crevices. Though the scenery could be called beautiful, Lan Zhuoran couldn't shake the sense that something lurked just out of sight—perhaps an animal, or worse, the Syndicate's scouts.

Eventually, they paused near a sloping rock face to catch their breath. The mule stomped restlessly, ears flicking back and forth. Gao Tianrong ran a hand through his short, dark hair, glancing at the horizon where the sun dipped low. "We need to find high ground to camp, or we'll be sitting ducks in these ravines after dark."

Yin Feiyan nodded, sweat beading at her temples. The day's journey had left her fatigued, and her injury, though better dressed, still caused discomfort. "Agreed. Let's climb another hour or so, then look for a defensible spot."

Lan Zhuoran studied the rocky heights looming overhead. Nightfall would come soon, forcing them to navigate steep terrain under moonlight. But they had little choice. The capital was still far away, and the Syndicate—like a storm cloud—shadowed their every step.

Resolute, he checked the mule's tether, ensuring the relic remained secure. The memory of Baihe Village, with its simple comforts, rose unbidden in his thoughts. He prayed that no harm would come to Auntie Qiu or Elder Shui. For now, he could only press forward, trusting in the Five-Winds Form and his growing resolve to shield those he held dear.