Kai reclined against Snow, the massive Ice Wolf’s thick, white fur serving as a natural cushion against the hard ground. Snow’s fur was soft and warm, a perfect barrier against the biting cold of the northern air, and the spirit beast didn’t seem to mind Kai’s weight resting against him. In fact, Snow let out a low, rumbling sigh, his breath forming a faint mist in the frosty night air, as if to signal his contentment. Around Kai, a cluster of smaller spirit beasts had gathered, their furry bodies pressed close to him in a protective circle. Yinying, the sleek Shadow Fox, lay curled at his side, her inky black fur glinting faintly under the moonlight, while a few others—each with their own unique presence—huddled nearby. Together, they formed a living blanket, their shared warmth keeping the chill at bay and creating a cocoon of comfort.

  When Kai had first set out on his journey, he had packed a sleeping roll. But he never really needed to use it much. The spirit beasts, with their boundless affection and innate instincts, had rendered it unnecessary. They not only provided warmth but also a sense of security and companionship that no piece of gear could replicate. Encouraging him to use their bodies as a cushion when he wanted to sleep.

  Instead of using the roll for himself, Kai had given it to Lu Bu, who now lay a short distance away, bundled tightly in the fabric. The boy’s small frame rose and fell with the steady rhythm of sleep, his face—once etched with grief and guilt—now softened into an expression of rare peace. It was a small comfort, but one that Kai hoped would help the boy heal, even if just a little.

  Kai watched Lu Bu for a moment, his chest tightening with a mix of emotions.

  He had let the boy cry, his heart aching as Lu Bu’s sobs echoed through the stillness of the night. He didn’t interrupt or try to rush him; he simply sat nearby, a silent presence offering what little comfort he could. The tears flowed freely, a torrent of grief and guilt that had been bottled up for far too long. Eventually, the sobs began to subside, replaced by quiet sniffles and shuddering breaths, until finally, exhaustion claimed the boy. His small body went limp, his tear-streaked face pale and drawn in the flickering light of the fire.

  Carefully, Kai had unfolded a thick blanket, its fabric worn but sturdy, and draped it gently over Lu Bu’s trembling frame. Tucking the edges snugly around the boy, he made sure every part of him was covered, shielding him from the cold night air. Then, with equal care, Kai lifted Lu Bu and carried him closer to the fire, where the warmth of the flames could chase away the lingering chill. He laid the boy down on his own spare bedroll, arranging it so that Lu Bu’s head rested comfortably and the heat from the fire could reach him without being too intense.

  Once he had settled Lu Bu and ensured the boy was warm and comfortable, Kai had snuggled up next to the menagerie of spirit beasts, as was his nightly ritual. Their warmth and familiar presence enveloped him, a comforting constant in the ever-changing landscape of his journey. This was how Kai spent most nights on the road—surrounded by the quiet companionship of his loyal beasts.

  As he leaned back against Snow, the massive Ice Wolf’s fur cool against his skin, Kai felt the steady rise and fall of the beast’s breathing, a rhythmic lull that usually soothed him to sleep. But tonight, sleep eluded him. His mind buzzed with the weight of Lu Bu’s warning about the bandits lurking in the region. Were they mere mortal thieves, desperate and dangerous but ultimately no match for a cultivator of his skill? Or were they rogue cultivators, fallen from the orthodox path, using their powers to prey on the weak? The latter possibility gnawed at him, stirring a restless energy that refused to be quieted.

  Kai’s fingers absently pet Yinying, his thoughts racing as he worked through potential scenarios. If they were mortal bandits, dispatching them would be a straightforward task, albeit one he approached with caution—he had no desire to take lives unnecessarily. But if they were cultivators, the situation became far more precarious. Rogue cultivators were unpredictable and their techniques could be as deadly as they were unorthodox. Kai’s mind churned with contingency plans: how to protect his spirit beasts and Lu Bu, how to counter unknown techniques, and how to ensure the safety of any innocent travelers who might cross paths with the bandits.

  The fire crackled softly in the background, casting flickering shadows over the sleeping forms of his companions. Moonlight filtered through the trees, painting the campsite in silvery hues. Kai’s gaze drifted to the stars above, their distant glow a reminder of the vastness of the world and the countless challenges it held. He sighed softly, the sound barely audible over the gentle rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

  “Um, mister…” Lu Bu’s voice was barely above a whisper, hesitant and tinged with a mix of curiosity and unease.

  Kai turned his attention to the boy, who had propped himself up on his elbows and was now sitting upright, his wide eyes fixed on Kai. The sight of Kai surrounded by an array of majestic, fluffy spirit beasts—Snow’s icy fur glinting in the moonlight—was enough to leave anyone awestruck. For Lu Bu, a mortal boy with little exposure to the world of cultivation, it was nothing short of extraordinary.

  “Is something wrong?” Kai asked, his tone gentle but concerned. “Are you cold? I have some extra blankets if you need them.”

  Lu Bu shook his head quickly, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his blanket. “No, um… I was just wondering,” he began, his voice trembling slightly as he gathered the courage to ask the question that had been burning in his mind. “Are you… a cultivator?”

  Kai’s gaze shifted to the spirit beasts slumbering peacefully around the camp. To Lu Bu, the presence of such fantastical creatures obediently following Kai’s lead could only mean one thing: Kai had to be a cultivator, a figure of immense power and mystery. And in a way, the boy wasn’t entirely wrong. Kai was a cultivator, but his bond with these spirit beasts wasn’t the result of some specialized cultivation technique or path. In the world of cultivation, spirit beasts were often seen as little more than tools—sources of rare materials for alchemy or crafting, or as exotic trophies to flaunt one’s status. There were no techniques to advance one's cultivation by befriending them like Kai had done. Some cultivators even hunted them for their cores, believing them to enhance their own power. But Kai’s relationship with his companions was different. It wasn’t transactional or exploitative; it was built on trust, mutual respect, and an unspoken understanding. They were not tools or trophies—they were his friends, his family, creatures to protect and be protected by.

  “Yes,” Kai answered simply, his voice calm and steady. He saw no reason to hide the truth. “So, don’t worry about the bandits. You’re safe with me. Go back to sleep.”

  But Lu Bu’s next question caught Kai completely off guard. “Are you going to abandon me here in the woods?” the boy asked, his voice barely audible, yet laced with a vulnerability that struck a chord deep within Kai.

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  “What?!” Kai exclaimed, his tone a mix of confusion and surprise. He hadn’t expected such a question, especially not from someone who had seemed so resilient until now.

  The boy’s words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken anxiety, and Kai quickly realized that Lu Bu’s fear of bandits was only part of what kept him awake. The deeper fear, the one that had possibly been gnawing at the boy since they’d met, was the fear of being left behind—of being alone in a world that had already shown him little kindness.

  “No. Why would you think that?” Kai asked, his voice gentle but laced with confusion. He couldn’t fathom why Lu Bu would fear being abandoned.

  “Because that’s what those other scary cultivators did,” Lu Bu replied, his voice trembling as he averted his gaze, as if relieving a painful memory.

  Kai’s expression shifted, a flicker of concern breaking through his usual calm demeanor. “You met other cultivators?” he asked, unable to completely hide the unease in his tone.

  This was the last thing he wanted to hear. Kai had been trying to distance himself from other cultivators, both righteous and demonic. The thought of crossing paths with other cultivators filled him with a deep sense of foreboding.

  “Where?” Kai pressed, his voice steady but urgent.

  Lu Bu hesitated, his small hands clutching the blanket tighter. “It was when I was fleeing the bandits,” he began, his words slow and halting. “They caught me and said they intended to sell me to a demonic cultivator. But then… these people wearing weird masks showed up.”

  Kai’s breath hitched at the mention of the masks. His mind raced, a cold knot of dread forming in his stomach. “Did those strange masks have no discernible features on them? Were they just gray in color?” he asked, his voice tight with apprehension.

  Lu Bu nodded, his eyes widening slightly at Kai’s reaction. “Um, yeah, they were. They didn’t even have eye holes. I’m not sure how those masked people could see anything.”

  Kai’s heart sank. This is not good, he thought, his mind immediately flashing back to the Faceless Judges he had encountered days before. The description matched perfectly, and the possibility that it was the same Faceless Judge he had narrowly avoided in Kumitari sent a chill down his spine.

  He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The last thing he needed was to alarm Lu Bu further, but the situation had just become far more complicated—and dangerous. If he ran into the Faceless Judges, it would be his end.

  “What happened when you met these people?” Kai asked, his voice steady but insistent, urging Lu Bu to continue his story. He needed to understand exactly what had transpired, no matter how unsettling the details might be.

  “They… um, killed all the bandits and freed me from the cage,” Lu Bu replied, his voice trembling as he recounted the memory. His small hands fidgeted with the edge of his blanket, his eyes darting nervously as if reliving the scene in his mind.

  Kai’s brow furrowed as he processed the boy’s words. “They freed you from the cage but left you in the wilds?” he asked, his tone tinged with confusion. The detail didn’t sit right with him. If the Faceless Judges had gone to the trouble of freeing Lu Bu, why abandon him in such a dangerous place?

  Lu Bu’s expression darkened, and he nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the ground. “They asked me some questions when they freed me,” he said quietly. “M-My pa said to be always honest, so I told them everything that happened. And… they said I was judged to be unworthy of being saved. They said for the crime of abandoning my parents, they would leave me in the wilds to fend for myself.”

  Kai was taken aback by Lu Bu’s story, though he couldn’t say he was entirely surprised. The Faceless Judges were notorious for their cold, unyielding sense of justice. They operated by a strict, often inscrutable code, and their judgments were delivered without regard for circumstance or intent. To them, the law was absolute, and any violation—no matter how minor or justified—was met with swift and often harsh consequences. The idea that they would condemn a child for something as complex as “abandoning his parents” was chilling, but it fit with what Kai had heard about their methods.

  That story I heard about a Faceless Judge executing a child for violating some arbitrary law seems true, Kai mused silently. He felt a surge of anger at the thought, but he kept his expression neutral, not wanting to alarm Lu Bu further. It’s a good thing Lu Bu didn’t lie to them. I’ve heard Faceless Judges will kill anyone who lies to them, and they’re frighteningly good at detecting deception. Lu Bu had no idea how close he came to them possibly just killing him outright. But I’m not going to tell him that.

  “After they left you, did you see what direction they went?” Kai asked, his voice calm but probing. He needed to know where the Faceless Judges were headed—it could mean the difference between safety and disaster.

  “I think… they were heading south,” Lu Bu replied, his voice uncertain but earnest.

  Good, Kai thought, a flicker of relief passing through him. If they’re heading south, they’re moving away from the border. That means they’re not patrolling it, at least for now. Still, he wasn’t about to take any chances. I might still double my speed just in case. Better to put as much distance between us and them as possible.

  Kai exhaled slowly, his mind racing as he weighed the implications of Lu Bu’s encounter with the Faceless Judges. Their involvement complicated things significantly, but their decision to head south was a possible silver lining. It suggested they were pursuing some other objective, one that might not involve him or Lu Bu—at least for the time being. Still, Kai knew better than to let his guard down.

  “Lu Bu,” Kai said after a moment, his voice gentle but firm. “What happened to you… it wasn’t fair. But you’re here now, and you’re safe. Those people in the masks, they’re… complicated. They see the world in a way that doesn’t leave room for mercy or understanding. But that doesn’t mean you deserved what happened to you. Do you understand?”

  Lu Bu nodded hesitantly, though his eyes still held a shadow of doubt. Kai could tell the boy was struggling to make sense of everything, and he didn’t blame him. The Faceless Judges’ brand of justice was difficult for anyone to comprehend, let alone a child. Their cold, unyielding judgments left no room for nuance or compassion, and the weight of their actions could crush even the strongest spirit.

  “For now,” Kai continued, “just focus on getting some sleep. And I promise you, I won’t let anything like that happen to you again. You’re not alone anymore.”

  Lu Bu still looked a little apprehensive, but he nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Kai,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with gratitude. “For being a nice cultivator. And… not like the others I’ve met.”

  “Of course,” Kai replied, giving the boy a reassuring smile. He felt a pang of sadness at Lu Bu’s words. The boy’s experience with cultivators had clearly been marked by fear and betrayal.

  Lu Bu laid back onto his bedroll, turning his body away from Kai and toward the fire. The flickering flames cast a warm glow over his small frame, but Kai could still see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clutched the blanket tightly. It was clear that sleep wouldn’t come easily for the boy, but Kai hoped his words had offered some measure of comfort.

  As the camp settled into silence, Kai let out a quiet sigh. Lu Bu’s story had given him a lot to think about. His mind churned with questions and concerns, piecing together the fragments of information and trying to anticipate what lay ahead. For another hour, he sat awake, his thoughts racing as he contemplated their next steps. Eventually, exhaustion began to overtake him, and he finally allowed himself to drift into a restless sleep.

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