Minutes passed.
The market behind them was gone—swallowed by distance, smothered by silence. The stone paths grew crooked, the lanterns sparser. What little light remained turned brittle, flickering like it too had grown wary of the road ahead.
She walked still.
Not fast. Not slow.
But with the kind of certainty that said she didn't need to look behind her to know what followed.
Yanwei's steps made no sound.
Not from effort—but from nature. This part of the city was old. Forgotten. Where the cracks in the stone let roots crawl through and shadows gathered not from lack of light, but from something else. Something deeper.
He kept his distance.
She didn't break stride.
But her head tilted slightly—barely enough to be called a motion. As if catching a breeze. Or listening to something that only she could hear.
Then she turned.
Not toward him.
Toward the trees ahead.
No gates. No warning. Just a thinning of buildings… and then the forest swallowed the road.
The canopy was dense, unnaturally so. Moonlight touched the world just enough to hint at what it could not reveal. The trees stood tall and thin, their bark like scorched bone. The ground dipped in places and rose in others, as if the land itself had grown restless over the years.
It wasn't the kind of forest that lived.
It was the kind that waited.
Still, she stepped inside.
And Yanwei followed.
No words passed between them. No glance exchanged. Just that growing hum—quiet, wrong, like something beneath the earth had stirred in recognition of their presence.
The market was a memory now.
And in its place…
Only the forest watched.
She stepped beneath the branches.
The forest swallowed her whole.
No pause. No hesitation. Her robes barely stirred as she passed through uneven soil and brush, the path narrowing with every step. The trees were tall, thin, crooked—like the bones of something ancient, waiting to wake.
Yanwei followed, silent.
Their footsteps never rushed, but the space between them stayed constant. He didn't close the gap.
He didn't need to.
She knew.
Her posture never changed. Not a twitch, not a tilt of the head. But her pace slowed—not out of caution, but control. Like she was no longer walking somewhere, but simply allowing the moment to unfold.
Then came the sigh.
Quiet. Barely audible over the creaking wood.
She didn't stop. Didn't look back.
Just said it.
"You've been tailing me for a day. What do you need?"
Her tone didn't carry weight—it removed it.
No irritation. No curiosity.
Only that cold clarity reserved for those who no longer considered the world above them.
She wasn't asking because she feared him.
She was asking because he was finally late in answering.
Yanwei wasn't surprised.
Not even close.
If anything, relief curled quietly beneath his calm exterior.
Seventy percent.
That was how sure he was now.
Seventy percent that the woman ahead—the one who didn't even bother to look back, who spoke with such cold confidence—was the one he had been hunting for weeks.
This was the straw he clung to, fragile but real.
He was a risk-taker, always had been. He thrived on the edge where others flinched, dove headfirst into chaos without hesitation.
But the irony wasn't lost on him.
The man who once basked in a glory dark and infamous—even if that glory had a bitter taste—was now forced to gamble everything on a Rank One.
A Rank One.
No one could have imagined this.
Not his enemies.
Not his allies.
Not even himself.
Yet here he was.
Tail trailing behind someone who barely registered on any of the lists he used to rule.
And what was funnier still?
He wasn't ashamed.
He wasn't angry.
He was… desperate.
Because this was the only chance he had left.
And if it was her—
Velurya—
Then maybe, just maybe, the gamble would pay off.
A voice broke the silence—low, calm, testing.
"Hmm… is it you?"
The woman froze.
Her steps faltered for the briefest moment.
Then she glanced back.
Her eyes caught his.
That voice.
A flicker of recognition—and something else, a spark of surprise.
She tightened her lips.
Then, with a voice that cut through the quiet like a blade, she said,
"You're that guy, huh?"
The words hung between them—heavy, charged, undeniable.
Yanwei stepped forward, his form slipping into full view.
"It is indeed me," he said coolly.
"And it is you also… no, Velurya?"
Velurya turned, eyes locking onto him.
She froze.
Not from fear.
But from disappointment.
That voice—it had carried weight. Precision. Power.
She had built an image around it.
But the man standing before her… wasn't that image.
She stared, speechless for a beat. Not because of who he was—
But because of what he looked like.
"…Your looks," she said finally, her tone sharpened, guarded. "It's not within my expectations."
Yanwei smirked.
"Heh. The first thing you noticed is my bald head?"
His voice had an edge—half-mocking, half amused.
"Am I not that scary? Or has the quality of the offspring of the Immortals fallen this far?"
Velurya flinched—just slightly.
That sentence.
That was the one.
"You… who are you, actually?" she said, voice low, firm.
"You're too knowledgeable for someone who isn't foreign to this land."
Yanwei smiled.
Slowly.
Not kindly.
Not politely.
It was the kind of smile that made the night feel colder.
"Who knows," he said, voice slipping into something almost playful.
"Maybe I'd tell you…"
A pause.
Sharp. Measured.
"…if you give me what I want."
Then came the look.
His gaze dipped—just enough to be unmistakable.
A lewd glint flickered in his eyes, dragging across her figure like he was sizing her up.
It wasn't real lust.
Not truly.
But it didn't matter.
He knew what it looked like.
He knew exactly what kind of man he was pretending to be in that moment.
Because sometimes, a leer could break more composure than a blade.
This wasn't about sex.
It was about pressure.
About control.
About reminding her that this wasn't a clean, predictable encounter—
and that he wasn't someone she could box into a type.
If she reacted in disgust? Good.
If she got angry? Even better.
Because anything that made her pulse shift—
Anything that cracked her perfect stillness—
Was leverage.
And Yanwei played for leverage.
Always.