Chapter 360: The Hunt

His thoughts whirred, trying to trace why the sword-drawing emblem appeared here, but the insight flashed like a spark from flint—bright for an instant, then extinguished, swallowed by boundless darkness.

Almost as he took his second step, he cast it aside, just like every unremarkable sight along the path, drowned out by a clear sense of mission.

His awareness flowed like a river through channels, unimpeded and sharply directed.

Even if a few droplets splashed out, they were mere side branches, having little effect on the overall current.

So his steps continued forward, treading on the thick, mossy carpet dampened by mist, emitting a sound like rubbed leather.

Though there were no corridors here, nor a valley, he still heard faint echoes of this tiny noise, layered and uneven, as if someone walked behind him beyond a wall of fog.

But when he strained to listen, the sound grew no clearer—it seemed merely a reflection in his mind, not real.

【He has come…】

Whispers rode his footsteps, distant as a spy slipping into a ballroom, leaning close to the host's ear, whispering conspiracies in a voice no dance partner could hear.

Yet the listener was lost in a dazzling, half-illusory dream, unable to discern what it referred to—or whether it concerned him at all.

Due to the strict discipline of his church school, he had never drunk alcohol, let alone become drunk, yet he felt this was what drunkenness must be like: thoughts boiling up uncontrollably while his body moved mechanically, the two separated by an unbridgeable gap.

The sensation was unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant. He gradually understood those who drank excessively—perhaps only when soul and flesh parted could one draw nearer to the Heavenly Father.

Continuing upward, the soil had nearly vanished, leaving only smooth, prayer-tower-like rock, towering sharply toward the sky.

【Avoid eye contact if possible…】

The voice returned, delivering its newly acquired content into his ear.

He glanced around in confusion—there were no traces of life here, not even birds willing to perch or nest; who could he possibly avoid making eye contact with?

His confusion did not linger long, swept away at once by the surging tide of thoughts.

To realize it was some kind of hint was simple—but impossible to understand who had provided it, or from what perspective.

Perhaps it was the chaotic effect of the vast system within his mind: extracting a single crucial line from some book, some chapter, some page, in a way beyond his cognitive limits, delivering it before him without source or context—understanding was impossible.

His own awareness gradually lost initiative, passively accepting.

When had it begun?

He asked himself, as if it had been after comprehending something—something extremely complex, far-reaching—that formed a cognition.

Yet this cognition did not belong to him, not like learning a new word or mastering a new skill.

If the latter were like picking up a shell on the beach, resting quietly in your pocket, the former was a living tridacna, actively opening its thick, ornate shell to clamp down on the diver's curious hand.

He had not gained the cognition—the cognition had seized him. It was alive…

For the first time—perhaps not the first—doubt stirred within his awareness.

He lifted his head; the summit loomed far ahead. A faint dizziness slammed into his mind, forcing him to stagger backward.

The dizziness felt as if the sky were within reach—no matter the angle, the gray mist moved, swirling around Shanfeng.

At the center of all motion, it curled and converged like an inverted vortex, stirred by some unseen force.

A cool, drizzling sensation scattered across his face—the rain had grown heavier.

He pressed upward; the bare summit lay visible ahead, empty of any object, yet his instinct urged his legs forward, certain that something waited there.

【Lucian, now…】

The voice came again—but this time, the latter half was no longer ethereal; it echoed simultaneously in his mind and his ears.

"Now!"

Before he could grasp what was happening, something slid swiftly across the ground, and his right foot lost control, yanked violently to one side.

A hemp rope snapped taut, the noose tightened around his ankle.

He struggled against the force, but the slick ground offered no purchase; he could not avoid sinking to one knee, lowering his center of gravity to prevent falling.

Rapid footsteps approached from behind—there were multiple attackers, and they were well-prepared. Escaping the noose was now impossible.

Various responses flashed through his mind, each immediately discarded; his awareness even had spare capacity to marvel at unprecedented efficiency—as if the weight on his body had suddenly become an aid, his thoughts light and swift.

【Right ahead】

Yes, no further distance remained—the destination lay just ahead.

With only three fingers still free, he snatched the bootlace and yanked his foot free; the hidden rope-puller, caught off-guard, cried out in pain from behind the ruined wall—a young, unfamiliar voice.

He rolled on the spot, causing the attacker rushing from behind to miss entirely.

"Dominic!" A harsh shout, thick with exhaustion and bitter resentment—this voice he recognized.

The speaker ignored the pain of his failed lunge, leapt up, still clutching a woven bundle of rope, and hurled it straight at him—it unfurled midair.

It was a rope net—not the kind used for fishing, its mesh too wide and its cords too thick to catch anything in local streams; its size, however, was perfect for covering a person.

The sight of a familiar face stunned Dominic for a moment—he wanted to demand what this was about—but Field turned his head away, refusing any communication.

The net settled over him; in the brief moment of stunned hesitation, the space for movement began to shrink. He looked back—a stranger, middle-aged, was pulling the ropes from behind, the wooden blunt hooks strung along the mesh catching his clothes, increasing the difficulty of escape.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw more figures running toward him—if all three converged, his strength alone could never break free.

The thought that he was only one step from his goal choked him—there was no time, no way to understand why he clung so fiercely to this goal; the imperative to reach it at all costs whipped his awareness, forcing him to use every possible means.

Then, a revelation arrived perfectly timed—he remembered those whispers, remembered the name they had mentioned.

"Lucian!" His lips and tongue moved faster than his thoughts.

The approaching figure instinctively looked up, revealing the youthful, inexperienced face of a boy—their gazes met.

For an instant, the boy seemed to recall some forbidden truth; his neck bent slightly, as if he had accidentally touched a red-hot coal, trying to withdraw his gaze—but before the motion could begin, he froze.

An intangible, formless thing found its entry point; a phantom radiance ignited deep within his pupils. Like the holy one calling a lost lamb by name, in an instant the anointed understood the caller's thoughts and submitted to the fold.

【Two against two】

The boy drew his short knife and moved again.

(End of Chapter)