The Alliance felt quieter.
Too quiet.
Not because nothing was happening—
But because nothing needed to.
For now.
Han Chandu sat in his room.
Calm.
Still.
His eyes half-closed.
Not sleeping.
Thinking.
But not about the forest.
Not about the shelter.
Something else.
Something… familiar.
A knock broke the silence.
Sharp.
Impatient.
Not like Han Sen.
Not like anyone he knew.
Han Chandu opened his eyes.
Then stood.
Walked to the door.
And opened it.
A man stood outside.
Middle-aged.
Well-dressed.
But his expression—
Cold.
Behind him—
Two others.
Silent.
Watching.
Han Chandu didn't speak.
He already understood enough.
The man smiled faintly.
Not warmly.
"…finally opened."
Han Chandu stepped aside slightly.
"…say what you came for."
No greeting.
No politeness.
Just direct.
The man's smile thinned.
"…straight to the point."
He stepped inside.
Without waiting.
The others followed.
Han Chandu closed the door.
The room felt smaller.
Tighter.
The man looked around.
Then spoke.
"…your family still owes us."
Silence.
No denial.
No surprise.
Because this—
Was expected.
Han Chandu leaned slightly against the wall.
"…how much."
The man's eyes sharpened slightly.
"…interest included—"
He paused.
Watching Han Chandu.
"…it's not small anymore."
Han Chandu didn't react.
"…say it."
The man smiled again.
This time—
Satisfied.
"…fifty thousand."
The number settled in the room.
Heavy.
Han Chandu didn't blink.
Didn't hesitate.
Because numbers—
Didn't matter.
Only solutions did.
Another knock came.
Before anyone moved.
Han Sen.
He entered casually—
Then stopped.
His eyes moved.
Took in the scene.
The tension.
The people.
Then—
He understood.
"…debt collectors?"
The man glanced at him.
"…you could say that."
Han Sen smirked faintly.
"…figured."
He leaned against the wall.
Relaxed.
But watching.
Always watching.
The man turned back to Han Chandu.
"…we've been patient."
"…but patience has limits."
Han Chandu nodded slightly.
"…when."
The man's smile widened.
"…three days."
A pause.
"…or we collect differently."
Silence.
Han Sen's eyes sharpened slightly.
But he didn't speak.
Because he knew—
Han Chandu would handle it.
Han Chandu's voice remained calm.
"…you'll get it."
No hesitation.
No bargaining.
No excuses.
Just certainty.
The man studied him for a moment.
Then nodded.
"…good."
He turned.
Walked toward the door.
"…we'll be back."
The others followed.
The door opened.
Then closed.
Silence returned.
But heavier now.
Han Sen exhaled.
"…fifty thousand…"
He glanced at Han Chandu.
"…you serious?"
Han Chandu sat down.
Calm.
"…yes."
Han Sen frowned slightly.
"…that's not small."
Han Chandu didn't respond.
Because he already knew.
Han Sen ran a hand through his hair.
"…we'll need to hunt nonstop."
Han Chandu nodded.
"…we will."
No stress.
No panic.
Just decision.
Han Sen smirked slightly.
"…guess we don't get a break."
Han Chandu didn't reply.
Because breaks—
Were not part of their path.
Not anymore.
Han Sen pushed off the wall.
"…we start tomorrow."
Han Chandu nodded.
"…early."
Han Sen grinned faintly.
"…figured."
He walked toward the door—
Then paused.
"…and hey…"
He glanced back.
"…don't carry everything alone."
A brief moment.
Then—
He left.
The door closed.
Han Chandu remained seated.
Silent.
Calm.
Low-key.
Like always.
But inside—
His thoughts aligned.
Debt.
Time limit.
Hunting pressure.
All variables.
All manageable.
Because he had something others didn't.
Experience.
Not spoken.
Not shown.
But there.
And that—
Was enough.
He stood.
Moved toward the window.
Looked outside.
The Alliance remained peaceful.
Unaware.
Unconcerned.
But for him—
Things had already changed.
Again.
And this time—
It wasn't the forest.
It was reality.
Closing in.
Three days.
That was all.
Han Chandu's expression remained calm.
Unshaken.
Because pressure—
Didn't break him.
It sharpened him.
And tomorrow—
He would move.
Not in panic.
Not in haste.
But with precision.
Because survival—
Was not just about strength.
It was about timing.
And he—
Never moved too late.