The forest did not simply fall silent.
It withdrew.
Xu Yan stood perfectly still, breath held, every instinct screaming at him to move and not move at the same time. The chirping insects, the distant calls of nocturnal beasts—everything that had formed the background rhythm of the night vanished as though erased.
Even the wind had stopped.
Between the pale-barked trees, the darkness thickened unnaturally, pooling in uneven patches. Two faint lights hovered within it—no, not hovering. Watching.
Xu Yan felt the pressure immediately.
It was not spiritual suppression. Not killing intent in the traditional sense.
It was weight.
Space itself felt heavier in that direction, as though something massive existed just beyond sight, warping the surrounding area merely by being present.
The Void Devouring Dragon stirred deeply within his dantian, its coils tightening.
Do not run, it warned.
You will not outrun this.
Xu Yan swallowed slowly. "Then what is it?"
The lights shifted, drawing closer between the trees. With each step it took, the air rippled faintly, like heat distortion on stone.
A predator, the dragon replied.
One that feeds on fractures.
Xu Yan's fingers curled into fists.
Of course it was.
The thing emerged fully into view, and Xu Yan's heart dropped.
It stood taller than a man, its body elongated and unnaturally thin, joints bending at wrong angles. Its surface looked neither solid nor translucent, but layered—as though multiple versions of it existed slightly out of alignment. Dark, star-speckled patterns pulsed faintly beneath its skin, blackish purple like the scales of the dragon within him.
Its head tilted slowly, almost curiously.
Then its mouth opened far too wide.
The sound it made was not a roar.
It was a drag—a scraping pull that made Xu Yan's stomach churn, as though something were tugging at his insides through invisible threads.
Void Stalker, the dragon said grimly.
It hunts those who walk where they should not.
Xu Yan felt cold settle into his bones.
"So it's here for me."
Yes.
The creature took a single step forward.
The ground beneath its foot folded inward, collapsing into a shallow distortion before snapping back into place. Xu Yan felt his balance falter despite not moving, nausea rolling through him.
This thing didn't move through space.
It used it.
Xu Yan forced his breathing to remain steady. Panic would get him killed faster than any claw.
"What can it do?" he asked quietly.
The dragon did not answer immediately.
It can sense instability, it said at last.
It can follow Void Drift.
And it will tear you apart if you attempt to flee blindly.
Xu Yan grimaced. "You're really selling my chances here."
You are alive, the dragon replied flatly.
That is your chance.
The Void Stalker stopped several paces away, its head lowering as it examined him more closely. Its gaze lingered on Xu Yan's chest—on the faint spatial distortions that still clung to him from earlier.
It shuddered.
Hungry.
Xu Yan moved first.
He stepped sideways—not running, not attacking—testing the sensation of space beneath his feet. The world resisted slightly, like pushing against water.
The creature reacted instantly.
It vanished.
Xu Yan's heart slammed violently as instinct screamed. He twisted, activating Void Drift without thinking—
—and pain detonated through his skull.
The displacement half-failed.
Xu Yan reappeared only a step away, spatial backlash slamming into his ribs like a hammer. He cried out as he stumbled, blood spraying from his mouth.
The Void Stalker materialized where he would have been.
Its head snapped toward him.
Too close.
Xu Yan barely raised his arms before something invisible slammed into him. He was hurled backward, crashing through brush and rolling hard against a tree trunk. The impact drove the air from his lungs in a ragged gasp.
White pain flared across his vision.
He tried to stand.
His legs buckled.
The creature approached unhurriedly now, confident. Each step caused the air to distort, pressure building around Xu Yan until breathing became difficult.
You are sloppy, the dragon growled.
And desperate.
Xu Yan spat blood and laughed weakly. "Any suggestions?"
Yes, the dragon replied.
Stop thinking like prey.
Xu Yan's laughter cut off.
"What?"
You are not faster, the dragon continued.
You are not stronger.
But you are incompatible.
Xu Yan's pulse thundered in his ears as understanding sparked faintly.
"Incompatible… with space?"
With the rules it follows, the dragon corrected.
It hunts fractures.
So show it something it cannot comprehend.
The Void Stalker halted abruptly, head tilting again as though sensing the shift in Xu Yan's intent.
Xu Yan pushed himself upright despite the pain, back pressed against the tree. His vision blurred, but his focus sharpened inward.
He didn't reach for power.
He reached for control.
Xu Yan inhaled slowly.
Then exhaled.
Instead of stepping through space, he did something far more dangerous.
He held it still.
Not fully. Not cleanly.
Just enough.
The sensation was indescribable—like gripping something vast and fluid with bare hands. Space around Xu Yan stiffened unnaturally, the faint distortions freezing in place for a heartbeat.
The Void Stalker shrieked.
Not in pain.
In confusion.
Xu Yan felt blood pour from his nose as pressure crushed inward from all directions. His meridians screamed, threatening to rupture as backlash surged.
But the creature hesitated.
That was enough.
Xu Yan lunged forward, grabbing a broken branch from the ground and driving it upward—not at the creature's body, but at the distortion beneath it.
The branch snapped instantly.
The space beneath the Void Stalker collapsed.
The creature screamed again, this time in fury, its body twisting violently as its alignment destabilized. It thrashed, tearing at itself as overlapping layers began to desynchronize.
Xu Yan staggered backward, barely staying conscious as his control shattered completely.
The world snapped back.
The Void Stalker convulsed once—then folded inward with a sickening crunch, collapsing into a knot of warped space that imploded silently.
And then—
nothing.
No corpse.
No blood.
Just a faint ripple that faded into the night.
Xu Yan collapsed to his knees, then forward onto his hands, retching violently as his body rebelled. His vision dimmed, edges darkening as exhaustion crashed over him like a wave.
He had won.
Barely.
That, the dragon said slowly,
was acceptable.
Xu Yan let out a breathless, broken laugh. "High praise."
He lay there for a long time, unmoving, letting the night creep back in. Gradually, the forest sounds returned—tentative at first, then steady.
Xu Yan's body ached everywhere. His head pounded. His dantian felt scorched.
But beneath it all, something had changed.
Space no longer felt quite so hostile.
Not friendly.
But… aware.
A soft chime echoed in his mind.
[Void Sense — Initiated]
[Status: Crude]
[Effect: Increased awareness of spatial instability]
Xu Yan closed his eyes.
"So I get stronger by almost dying," he muttered.
That is cultivation, the dragon replied.
Xu Yan didn't argue.
As he drifted toward unconsciousness, far above the forest, the heavens stirred once more. Invisible lines of fate tightened subtly around a single point.
Xu Yan.
Something had noticed his victory.
And unlike the Void Stalker…
It was patient.