Chronicles of Fates Path

Morning sunlight spilled over the low hills, warming the rocky terrain as Lan Zhuoran, Yin Feiyan, and Gao Tianrong threaded through a meandering, narrow path. A sense of urgency kept them moving. The Black Wolf Syndicate was near, its patrols and scouts a constant threat. Yet pressing too hard risked exhausting both them and the mule.

After hours of wary travel, Gao Tianrong came to an abrupt halt at the crest of a small ridge. He signaled for the others to crouch low. Lan Zhuoran helped Yin Feiyan ease down, mindful of her injured arm.

Just beyond, a shallow valley opened up, dotted with hardy grasses and a scattering of stunted trees. A trickle of a creek glistened among the rocks, fed by a narrow waterfall that cascaded from an overhang of stone. Lan Zhuoran blinked, drawn by the sight of such surprising beauty in this rugged land.

Gao Tianrong studied the area with hawk-like focus. "We might be able to rest there," he murmured. "Water and partial cover from those trees. But we need to make sure no one else is occupying it."

Lan Zhuoran scanned for any sign of smoke, campfires, or human presence. Nothing caught his eye. Yin Feiyan bit her lip, eyes roving carefully. "It looks deserted."

Gao Tianrong nodded. "We'll approach slowly. Stay alert."

They descended into the small valley, weaving around boulders and patches of thick brush. The closer they drew to the waterfall, the clearer the gentle rush of water sounded, beckoning them with the promise of relief from thirst and dust. The mule's ears perked, sensing water, and it quickened its step.

The trio found no evidence of recent camps. Relieved, they guided the mule toward the creek's bank, letting it drink while they refilled waterskins. The swirling eddies sparkled under the sun, a stark contrast to the tension of the last days. Yin Feiyan knelt, rinsing her bandaged arm in the cool flow. She winced at first, but soon sighed as the water soothed her inflamed wound.

Lan Zhuoran splashed his face and neck, savoring the sensation of dust and sweat washing away. Gao Tianrong circled the clearing, bow in hand, but his posture appeared slightly more relaxed than before. This rare oasis seemed genuinely unclaimed—for now.

After a time, they settled beside a cluster of rocks near the waterfall, which formed a half-cave behind the rushing water. A fine mist drifted in the breeze, cooling the air. Lan Zhuoran studied the hidden alcove with interest. "This might be a good spot to rest or hide if we need it," he said.

Yin Feiyan tilted her head, peering at the mossy stones behind the waterfall. "It's big enough for us and the mule?" she asked, eyeing the low ceiling.

"Maybe," Gao Tianrong replied, stepping closer. He slipped behind the waterfall's curtain, disappearing briefly. Lan Zhuoran heard faint scuffling, then the archer reappeared, drenched but grinning wryly. "There's a small chamber back there. Not the driest shelter, but it could do in an emergency."

Yin Feiyan shifted her weight, pain flickering across her face. "It's a relief to see fresh water at least. Let's rest a bit, then move on. I don't want the Syndicate stumbling on us while we linger."

Lan Zhuoran and Gao Tianrong agreed. Still, taking a short break felt imperative for Yin Feiyan's injury. They spread out to keep watch in different directions. Lan Zhuoran found a vantage point atop a nearby boulder, scanning the horizon. Gao Tianrong took a position behind some trees, arrow ready, while Yin Feiyan remained near the waterfall, leaning against the mossy rock.

A hush enveloped the valley, broken only by the water's gentle roar. Overhead, a few birds soared lazily on updrafts, free of earthly concerns. Lan Zhuoran envied them for a moment. If only I could fly away from all this…

Suddenly, Yin Feiyan called his name, voice echoing slightly in the gorge. Alarm shot through him. He hopped down from the boulder, racing to her side. She stood near the waterfall's edge, staring at the ground. "Look," she said, pointing to a faint imprint in the damp soil.

It was a footprint—half-washed by water, but unmistakably human. Lan Zhuoran crouched, frowning. "Not ours," he muttered. The shoe size seemed larger than Gao Tianrong's or his own, and the tread pattern was different. A recent visitor had been here, possibly hours or a day before.

Gao Tianrong, sensing commotion, joined them, studying the footprint with narrowed eyes. "Could be a lone traveler or a scout," he said quietly. "The water's partially erased the tracks, so they've likely moved on."

Yin Feiyan's shoulders sagged. "So we're not completely safe. Let's stay on guard. If someone found this place before, they might come back."

Lan Zhuoran nodded. He couldn't help recalling Gao Tianrong's earlier midnight scare—footsteps in the darkness. The hills were teeming with potential threats, not all wearing Syndicate emblems. Bandits, wanderers, or bounty hunters might also lurk. Yet the allure of fresh water was too precious to abandon hastily.

They decided to remain for only a short while, letting Yin Feiyan rest her arm properly. Gao Tianrong kept watch from a hidden vantage point among the trees, arrow nocked, scanning for any sign of intruders. Lan Zhuoran busied himself by checking the mule's hooves and adjusting the relic's wrappings in the saddlebag to ensure no moisture seeped in.

Eventually, Yin Feiyan rose on unsteady feet, beads of water trailing down her sleeve. "That's enough," she murmured. "We should go."

Lan Zhuoran and Gao Tianrong exchanged glances. Neither fully rested, but both recognized the logic—remaining in one spot heightened the risk of discovery. With a final check for anything left behind, they resumed their journey, leaving the hidden spring behind. Its beauty had given them a fleeting respite, but the footprint in the mud served as a stark reminder of watchful eyes in the hills.

As they walked, the sun climbed higher, burning away the morning's coolness. Yin Feiyan's cheeks reddened from exertion, and Lan Zhuoran kept close in case her strength faltered. Gao Tianrong, silent as ever, led them along a winding path that slowly ascended into rugged highlands. The mule plodded stoically, burdened by supplies and the relic.

Though they had escaped yet another potential danger, tension clung to them like an invisible cloak. The Syndicate might be anywhere—lurking behind the next ridge or circling around from the canyons. Yet the trio pushed forward, driven by duty, hope, and the desperate need to keep Skyfire Protocol from falling into the wrong hands.