They left the delayed ground before noon.
Not because it pushed them out, but because staying any longer would turn allowance into dependence. Wang Lin felt the shift as they crossed the invisible threshold where the land stopped hesitating and resumed making decisions of its own.
The pressure returned.
Not immediately.
Gradually.
Like a weight settling back into place.
Ying Yue noticed first. "We are visible again."
"Yes," Wang Lin replied.
Mei Niu exhaled slowly. "But rested."
"Yes," he agreed.
That mattered.
They moved along a high path where the land fell away on either side, wind carrying scent and sound far beyond normal range. Wang Lin felt his awareness stretch with it, not straining this time, but adjusting, finding its limits without testing them.
Something was different.
Not in the emptiness.
In how others reacted to it.
He felt attention brush past him, then pause, then move on. Not confused. Evaluating. Measuring whether engaging would cost more than it gained.
Time had done that.
Time, and the refusal to turn it into leverage.
They stopped briefly near a narrow stream to refill their skins. The water ran cold and clear, unclaimed, its banks marked only by animal tracks layered over one another without hierarchy.
Ying Yue crouched and examined them. "Mixed," she said. "No dominance pattern."
"Yes," Wang Lin replied. "They drink and move on."
Mei Niu watched the water ripple. "That is what you are doing too," she said.
He nodded.
They did not linger.
By late afternoon, the terrain changed again. Stone gave way to long grass and scattered trees, their trunks bent and scarred by wind rather than blades. The air felt open here, sound carrying farther, the sky broader overhead.
Exposure.
Necessary.
Wang Lin slowed as a familiar sensation brushed his awareness.
Not pressure.
Expectation.
"They know we are coming," Ying Yue said quietly.
"Yes," Wang Lin replied. "But not exactly who."
Mei Niu's grip tightened on her pack strap. "That is worse."
"Yes," he agreed.
They crested a gentle rise and saw them.
A camp.
Temporary, but deliberate.
Six tents arranged in a loose ring, fires burning openly despite the risk. Figures moved among them without hurry, their posture relaxed in a way that suggested confidence rather than carelessness.
Not sect hunters.
Not brokers.
Something else.
Ying Yue studied them closely. "Independent."
"Yes," Wang Lin replied. "But not neutral."
Mei Niu frowned. "They are waiting."
"Yes."
They did not approach immediately.
They adjusted their path slightly, skirting the edge of the rise rather than descending straight toward the camp. Wang Lin did not want to appear as though he were seeking contact.
The camp noticed anyway.
A figure stepped away from the nearest fire and raised one hand, palm open, visible from a distance.
Not a challenge.
Not an invitation.
Acknowledgment.
Wang Lin stopped.
Ying Yue glanced at him. "This is about to become a conversation."
"Yes," Wang Lin replied.
Mei Niu inhaled slowly. "Then choose how it begins."
Wang Lin adjusted his course and walked openly toward the camp, his pace steady, hands visible. Ying Yue moved slightly ahead and to the side, guarding without crowding. Mei Niu stayed close, her posture composed.
The figures in the camp watched them approach without moving to intercept.
When they reached a respectful distance, the person who had signaled stepped forward.
A woman.
Tall, broad-shouldered, her hair braided tightly down her back. Her clothing was practical and worn, but well-maintained. No insignia marked her allegiance.
"You walk without escort," she said. "That is uncommon here."
"Yes," Wang Lin replied.
"You also walk without concealment," she continued. "That is rarer."
"Yes."
The woman studied him carefully. "And yet you do not smell reckless."
"No," Wang Lin said.
She huffed softly, almost amused.
"My name is Ke Yan," she said. "We trade passage."
Ying Yue's ears flicked. "Trade how."
"Information," Ke Yan replied. "Timing. Warnings."
"And in return," Mei Niu asked.
"Noninterference," Ke Yan said. "And honesty."
Wang Lin considered that.
"What do you want to know," he asked.
"Why beasts gather near you," Ke Yan replied. "Without being called."
Silence settled.
Wang Lin did not rush to answer.
"Because I refuse to decide for them," he said finally.
Ke Yan blinked.
Then she laughed.
Not mockingly.
With genuine surprise.
"That is not the answer I expected," she said.
"What did you expect," Wang Lin asked.
"Power," Ke Yan replied. "Threat. Leverage."
Wang Lin shook his head. "None of those hold for long."
Ke Yan studied him again, longer this time.
"I believe you," she said. "Which is inconvenient."
"In what way," Mei Niu asked.
"It means you will draw attention from people who cannot tolerate uncertainty," Ke Yan replied. "And they will come through here eventually."
"Yes," Wang Lin said.
Ke Yan nodded. "Then you should know this."
She gestured toward the east.
"A sect convoy passed through two days ago," she said. "Not hunting. Relocating."
"That is unusual," Ying Yue said.
"Yes," Ke Yan replied. "And they asked questions."
"What kind," Wang Lin asked.
"About refusal," Ke Yan said. "About boundaries that do not push back."
Mei Niu's jaw tightened.
"They are adapting," Ying Yue said.
"Yes," Ke Yan replied. "Slowly. And poorly."
Wang Lin felt the weight of it settle.
"What do you want from us," he asked.
Ke Yan met his gaze squarely.
"To stay visible," she said. "But not close."
Silence followed.
"Explain," Wang Lin said.
"When attention concentrates, it crushes," Ke Yan replied. "When it spreads, it negotiates."
"You want us to draw pressure away from you," Mei Niu said.
Ke Yan nodded. "Yes."
"And you will warn us when it becomes too much," Wang Lin said.
"Yes," Ke Yan replied. "Because if you break, the pressure snaps back."
Ying Yue snorted softly. "Honest."
Ke Yan smiled faintly. "Practical."
Wang Lin considered the emptiness within him, the way it responded to intent without claiming it.
"We will not anchor ourselves here," he said.
"We are not asking you to," Ke Yan replied.
"We will move," Wang Lin continued. "But not quietly."
Ke Yan nodded once. "That will be enough."
She stepped back and gestured to her camp.
"You may pass along the northern cut," she said. "It is slower. Less predictable."
"Thank you," Wang Lin replied.
As they turned away, Ke Yan added one last thing.
"Time attracts attention," she said. "But it also reveals character."
Wang Lin did not look back.
They moved on, following the northern cut as promised, the land opening ahead of them into a maze of low ridges and winding paths.
Mei Niu walked beside him in silence for a while, then spoke.
"You are becoming a reference point," she said.
"Yes," Wang Lin replied.
"That is dangerous," she added.
"Yes."
"And necessary," Ying Yue said quietly from ahead.
Wang Lin felt the truth of that settle into place.
He was no longer simply reacting.
He was shaping where pressure went.
Not by force.
By movement.
By refusal.
By choosing when to be seen.
Ahead, the land bent and twisted, offering paths that would not stay open forever.
Behind them, attention gathered, redistributed, recalculated.
Time had been given.
Now it was being spent.
And Wang Lin knew, with a calm that did not come from confidence, that what came next would test not his endurance, but his judgment.
That, he suspected, would be far harder to hold.