MTLNOVEL Chapter 381: The Inner Ring
The circle grew colder, heavier. No one spoke for several breaths, though the implication hung heavy in the air.
Xun Lan finally broke the silence. "Speculation gains us nothing for now. Whether there is a traitor or not, the reality is clear—we are being hunted. That masked figure will not stop here. This ambush was but a test. Next time, they will strike harder."
The elders fell into grim agreement.
"Then what do you propose?" one asked sharply.
"We tighten security," Xun Lan said. "The disciples must not stray from formation. Scouts move in groups, never alone. And every night, we double the wards and Elders will personally keep watch in shifts. The inner ring is before us, but entering while we are divided will only feed us into their jaws."
Another elder, his robes soaked with blood, scowled. "We are wasting time. The longer we delay, the more they will prepare. We should push forward quickly and establish a foothold before they can strike again."
"That is precisely what they want," Xun Lan replied flatly. "To push us into haste, to make us sloppy."
The debate grew tense, voices rising and falling, but one thing was clear—no elder could deny the danger of the masked figure. The losses they had suffered tonight were proof enough.
Meanwhile, the disciples whispered among themselves, their morale shaken. Some were pale with fear, others clutched their weapons as if expecting another attack at any moment. The names of the fallen spread quickly, and with them came grief and anger. For many, it was the first time death had reached so close.
Han Yu returned quietly to their ranks after the elders dismissed him. Chitterfang stirred restlessly within his sleeve, squeaking low in agitation, as if even the little beast had sensed the unnaturalness of the ambush.
Han Yu's gaze swept the camp, pausing on the wounded disciples writhing in pain. His jaw tightened.
'This expedition has already taken a darker turn than anyone expected. And if that masked figure is truly hunting us…'
He looked once more toward the distant, looming shadows of the inner ring, where the colossal trees towered like silent guardians.
'…then what awaits inside may be worse than any of us imagine.'
The elders ended their gathering with one final, unspoken truth lingering between them—
The expedition had just crossed the line between danger and death.
The march into the inner ring began the following morning.
The mood was subdued, heavy with the echoes of the night before. Disciples who once chatted to stave off the monotony of the march now walked in silence, their eyes darting into the mist with every rustle of branches or splash of water.
The corpses of their fallen comrades had been cremated in the marsh itself, their ashes given to the winds that rolled through the bog, their names would be recorded in the sect's funerary registries and compensation would be sent to their families... but the memory of their deaths still clung to the living like a shroud.
The inner ring revealed itself slowly. The trees grew taller, broader than towers, their roots coiling like serpents and vanishing deep into the dark waters. The air was thicker here, the mist so dense it clung to their robes and dampened their skin. Strange cries echoed from unseen depths, some high-pitched, others guttural, none belonging to ordinary beasts.
Everyone expected another ambush. Every disciple braced themselves, gripping their weapons tighter, glancing nervously at the elders.
But to their collective surprise… nothing came.
No tide of beasts surged from the shadows. No coordinated assault struck their flanks. Instead, only the occasional stray creature stumbled into their path—mutated serpents, bloated frogs, or scaled avians with razor-sharp beaks.
And those were dispatched almost effortlessly.
Where before the elders had hung back, letting disciples handle such foes to temper themselves, they now stepped forward without hesitation. A flick of a sleeve from Elder Xun Lan, and a beast was frozen in its tracks. A wave of qi from another elder split an encroaching swamp serpent into pieces before it could even coil.
Even the peak heads themselves moved in rotation, circling ahead of the group, hunting down threats before they could grow. To see such figures—the pillars of the sect—acting as vanguard was something none of the disciples had expected. Their presence cut away the invisible claws of fear that gripped the group, but it also made the reality plain:
The elders no longer trusted the marsh.
Han Yu walked near the center of the formation, halberd resting against his shoulder. He could feel it in the atmosphere—the subtle shift. This was no longer a training ground for disciples to test their mettle. This was enemy territory.
He glanced at Wu Shuan, who kept unusually quiet beside him, his gaze sharp and restless. Normally, he would stride ahead boldly, cutting down stray beasts with practiced precision, but even he seemed unsettled by the unnatural calm.
"This is strange," He muttered at last, low enough that only Han Yu could hear. "We've seen less resistance here in the inner ring than we did outside. That shouldn't be possible."
Han Yu gave a short nod. "The elders know it too. That's why they've taken the lead."
He didn't add the rest aloud, but the thought haunted him: 'It's because this is no longer just about the beasts. Someone is watching us, choosing when to strike.'
At the front, Elder Yi gestured sharply, and a disciple scout was pulled back into formation before they could wander too far. "No straying," he said firmly, his voice carrying without effort. "Stay within the wards. If you leave formation, you may as well dig your own grave."
The disciples nodded hastily, chastened.
Days passed like this.
They advanced deeper, expecting calamity at every turn, but the ambush never came. The strangest part was how… quiet it all seemed.
Not a lack of sound—the marsh was alive with calls and movements—but a lack of confrontation. As though something had swept the paths clear before them, leaving only scraps of resistance for the elders to tear apart with disdainful ease.