Wei wasn't running fast.
Not because he wanted to slow down.
But because he realized—
he couldn't go any faster.
The forest floor rose and dipped unevenly. Dead branches, loose stones, exposed roots clawed at his feet in the dark. Every time he lifted a leg, he had to find the landing spot in his head first. Hesitate for even half a beat, and his balance slipped.
He could hear footsteps behind him.
Unhurried.
Unbroken.
Like a rhythm that never crossed into danger, yet never fell behind.
This wasn't a chase.
It was accompaniment.
And suddenly, Wei understood something that tightened his throat—
If they wanted to,
he would already be dead.
The thought closed around his breath like an icy hand.
Then, in that very moment, the footsteps stopped.
Wei's heart dropped. Almost by instinct, he lunged forward a step, his back pulled tight to the point of pain. No blade cut through the air. Only the night wind brushed past his ear.
He stood there, frozen for two full breaths, before daring to turn.
The silver knight stood a dozen paces away.
He hadn't closed the distance.
He hadn't drawn his sword.
He was simply standing there.
Moonlight slipped through gaps in the canopy, carving cold, rigid lines across the silver armor. His head was slightly lowered—whether he was looking at the ground, or at Wei's feet, it was hard to tell.
"You're afraid," he said.
It didn't sound like a judgment.
It sounded like a statement.
Wei clenched his teeth.
"You can't catch me."
The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
And the instant they did, he understood—
This wasn't courage.
It was a test.
The silver knight raised his head.
In that moment, Wei felt as though he were being measured.
From shoulders, to chest, to legs.
Like a tool laid out to check its dimensions.
"You talk too much," the silver knight said, and stepped forward.
Just one step.
Yet the moment that foot landed, Wei's body had already retreated.
Not because he chose to.
Because his body chose for him.
That single step drained the color from his face.
He realized—
He was already moving to a rhythm set by someone else.
"Hah."
The silver knight's laughter carried open contempt.
"My subordinate told me he captured a hundred slaves by himself. I didn't believe him."
He tilted his head, as if recalling something trivial.
"After coming out this time, I realized—
you were already broken long ago."
The laughter burned Wei's face.
When he had first charged out, he had even felt proud of himself.
Now, standing face to face, he saw it clearly—
how small he was.
Shame surged up, sharp and hot, and he cursed aloud.
The silver knight kept advancing.
Every step compressed Wei's retreat.
Wei's heart sank.
Run, and admit fear.
Stay, and place his life in the other man's hands.
No way out.
"Big idiot," Wei suddenly laughed, his voice hoarse but forceful. "You really think you've already won?"
The silver knight stopped.
"Turn around and look," Wei said, his laughter growing louder. "My companions have already gotten the children out."
Now it was Wei's turn to laugh freely.
Even if he died in the next moment—
Chun and Little Butterfly had already crossed the narrow bridge.
The silver knight did not grow angry.
He didn't even look surprised.
"The ones on the other side of the bridge," he said, "can live."
The sentence struck Wei like a nail, pinning him in place.
Just as he was about to turn and run again—
A voice came from ahead.
Not from the silver knight's position.
Low.
Controlled.
Carrying a resonance that was not entirely human.
"Is the bridge stable?"
Wei stiffened completely and slowly raised his head.
"You stepped out," the silver knight's voice sounded again, but from a different direction now, "only for those two children."
Wei swallowed.
"What are you trying to—"
The silver knight circled him halfway, his footsteps clear and measured in the night.
He didn't speak again.
But it felt like an invisible hand closing around Wei's throat.
"You thought that if you drew my attention, the others would live."
"You thought that if you dragged out time, the outcome would change."
He stopped just behind Wei's side.
"You were wrong."
Cold sweat slid down Wei's temple. He wanted to turn—but didn't dare.
"From the moment you stepped out," the silver knight said, "your value was reduced to one thing."
"—How much effort you save me."
Under the moonlight, at the far end of the narrow bridge, a figure lay quietly hidden among the twisted shadows of trees.
Only then did the silver knight's voice sound again from the forest to Wei's side.
"He did well."
"Saved me a great deal of trouble."
"You thought I was chasing you," he said. "In truth, I was waiting for your companions."
Wei's throat tightened.
"You were… waiting all along?"
"Waiting for you to deliver yourself," the silver knight replied, "to the position that costs the least."
The silver knight raised his hand.
Not to strike.
To confirm.
"Encirclement complete."
In that instant, Wei finally understood—
Everything before this
was not a mistake.
Not arrogance.
But the cleanest form of hunting.
"Now," the silver knight said, "you have nowhere left to go."
Wei suddenly realized that his vision had changed.
The darkness was no longer dark.
Tree shadows, terrain, the flow of wind—
even the loosened soil beneath the silver knight's feet—
all of it was spread before his eyes
in a way that felt wrong.
He wanted to close his eyes.
But when he did, the outlines were still there.
Clearer.
A faint yet persistent ache spread outward from deep within his eye sockets.
And suddenly, he understood.
It wasn't him who was looking.
Something else
was using his eyes
to look at the world.