Ian didn't immediately break into a sprint. First, he carefully scanned his surroundings to confirm that nothing was out of the ordinary.
He began moving away from the camp and the site of Mitchell's death at a slow but steady pace.
Speed was no longer his priority; instead, he focused on eliminating his tracks and concealing his movements.
He stepped only on ground that wouldn't hold prints, occasionally creating misleading tracks to throw off any potential pursuers.
And so, under the cover of darkness and silence, he moved away from the heart of the danger, inch by inch, like the most seasoned prowler.
When dawn broke in the east, Ian estimated he was at least a hundred li from the Stone Forest. He could no longer sense any sign of pursuit, only the profound silence of his surroundings.
Only then did he truly breathe a sigh of relief. His perpetually taut nerves finally eased, and an overwhelming wave of exhaustion washed over him.
