Swoosh.
'They're tracking the treasure somehow. It's not just intuition, that's baseless, and I am sure they have a way to do it'
The thought surged through Lucien's mind as his figure streaked across the rugged terrain, each step a blur.
No point in holding back now.
Thin, glowing lines surged along his arms, over his chest, and across his face, bloody red marks that pulsed all over his skin.
A hidden technique, something he'd never dared use in normal time unless necessary, the red line surged to life beneath his skin.
His speed spiked, explosively, enough to carve a real gap between him and those shadows tailing behind.
He already knew the two guards wouldn't be able to hold them off.
Foundation Building cultivators, in black robes, dozens of them, this wasn't a fight anyone could win outright.
Their choice to stay behind was brave, sure, but ultimately pointless.
They were too far from the city, too far from help, and not fast enough to escape.
So Lucien made a decision, grab the jade box, split from Ilya, and draw the hounds away.
"Trying to be a hero?" he muttered under his breath, half-smirking as the wind roared past his ears.
His entire body shimmered like a streak of fire darting across the land.
Steam curled off his back like a furnace leaking heat.
His fingers tightened around the jade box, still cold to the touch. "If I live through this, she better pay me a mountain of spirit stones."
The ground trembled slightly beneath his feet as several enormous auras flared behind him.
He didn't look back.
There was no need.
Their presence was sharp and oppressive, closing in fast.
Lucien gritted his teeth and pushed harder, drawing deeper into the blood-burning technique.
Then came the voice, deep, and loud.
"Boy! Hand over the boy, you have no idea what you're involved in!!!"
Boom.
The shout cracked across the wilderness like a shockwave, rattling the loose stones around him.
Lucien didn't flinch. Not a twitch.
His pace didn't dip for even a heartbeat. Instead, he forced more blood into the technique.
His skin began to pale.
His lips dried.
He was going faster now. Dangerously fast.
Behind him, four robed figures burst into view atop a nearby ridge, black robes flapping violently against the wind.
"He's using a secret movement technique!"
"Tch... he's burning his blood. The scent is thick in the air, I know exactly what that is."
Lucien didn't care.
His breath had grown raspy, dragged from his lungs in sharp pulls.
The dryness in his mouth reached his throat, and his heartbeat started pounding so hard he could hear it echo between his ears.
Still, he didn't stop.
The ground changed beneath him, grass faded to dirt, dirt to stone, and then to jagged roots and thick underbrush.
He had entered the Great Wilderness again.
The towering trees above him felt suffocating, their limbs bare and dry.
The air hung heavy.
But none of it gave him comfort.
No sense of safety came from the shadows of this ancient forest.
He was too familiar with the madness that crept through it, and the men behind him were tireless, not slowing down.
That was the difference.
They were Foundation Building experts. Their bodies could take more, run longer, strike harder, survive worse.
But his? He was running on fumes. His bones felt light, like hollow sticks rattling inside a sack of flesh.
Still, he kept going.
Until the forest thinned and the land dipped violently downward.
A canyon opened before him, wide, deep, and veiled in a thick, ominous mist.
It was a place everyone in the region had heard about. A dead zone. No one with a sliver of sanity would enter it willingly.
Lucien halted just short of the edge, panting, the mist curling around his legs like fingers.
His body screamed at him. His skin cracked faintly at the edges, brittle from the burning blood art.
Behind him, the shouts rang out again.
"Don't do it, you damn insect!"
"Give us the box, we'll let you walk away!"
"Don't throw your life away!"
Lucien glanced back, his body swaying slightly.
He took one look at them, four black shadows, closing the distance fast, and then scoffed under his breath.
Like hell he'd trust those words.
His face was half-covered in dried blood, skin cracked and pale, like a man who had walked through fire and survived only to burn slowly from within.
Yet, even in that state, his eyes still held their edge, sharp, alert, defiant.
"If you want it so bad, then come and catch me..." His voice was hoarse, but steady.
"Don't you dare!!"
And with that final breath, Lucien flung himself forward, one last leap, straight into the canyon blanketed in dense, red mist.
His figure vanished almost instantly, swallowed whole by the blood-tinged fog.
Moments later, four black-robed figures landed near the edge. They stared into the canyon's depth.
They were operating as expected, according to orders, no hesitation, no emotion. Just a mission to finish.
Then, the script must be followed.
"Tch... This place..." one muttered, voice flat.
"Should we go in after him?" another asked.
"Hmph. It's far too dangerous. Our spiritual energy could attract... things down there."
"That ant probably won't last long anyway," the third said, narrowing his eyes. "But if we return without that card, we're as good as dead."
They exchanged grim glances.
With clenched jaws and no better choice, the four men leapt down together, plunging after Lucien into the fog.
But below, the haze was so thick that visibility dropped to a dozen meters at most.
Even with specialized techniques, they couldn't see further than a hundred. It was a hunter's nightmare, and Lucien's greatest chance.
He moved through the mist with uneven steps, half-limping, half-drifting forward.
He had been here before, several times. And there was one particular place, half-forgotten and half-intended, that he remembered stumbling across once.
As he shuffled ahead, breath shallow, thoughts drifted in his head.
I wonder if that woman I saved back then… is still alive.
He murmured faintly, eyes narrowed, legs dragging, like a man lost without direction. But that wasn't the truth.
His movements might have looked erratic, almost aimless, but his goal was anything but.
He knew exactly where he was going.
And when he got there, those who were chasing him... would regret it.
Behind him, the black-robed figures continued the pursuit.
From above, their target glowed faintly, Lucien's position marked like a lit beacon in their vision.
They were tracking, or perhaps using a relic or ability that honed in on the card sealed inside the jade box he carried.
That meant one thing.
They'd chase him. Relentlessly. Even to the ends of the world.
Lucien smirked grimly.
"Then let's go to hell together..."
He muttered under his breath and turned into a sudden dip in the terrain.
A sloping path that curved downward revealed itself, partially hidden beneath the thick, swirling mist.
At its end was a cave entrance, half-submerged in shadow, lined with old bloodstains and scattered bones.
Human bones. Some fresh.
Lucien paused at the threshold. His gaze swept over the scene, mouth curling slightly.
"The last time I came here... there weren't this many bodies."
He let out a slow breath, half a laugh.
"Looks like that big guy's been eating well lately."
With that, he stepped inside.
The cave swallowed the light behind him. Pitch black. Yet his eyes shimmered faintly with a strange inner glow, allowing him to see at least several dozen meters ahead.
He walked deeper, silence wrapping around him like a second skin.
Then, he stopped.
And waited.
Still. Breath controlled. Posture calm.
Moments passed, and then, the echo of footsteps. Four sets. They rang sharply against the cavern walls, steadily closing in.
The black-robed figures emerged from the shadows, eyes scanning ahead. They halted when they spotted him, just a dozen meters in front, back turned, unmoving like a statue.
The leader stepped forward, voice firm, and his tone was flat.
"Boy..."
He let the word hang, before continuing.
"You've reached your end. Now hand over the jade box. Nicely."
A pause. Then a faint tilt of his head.
"I might even consider sparing your life."