The Realm of Hidden Origins was restless.
Li Chen sensed it the moment he opened his eyes. The faint harmony he had cultivated through the Divine Sword Breathing wavered, disturbed by chaotic ripples spreading through the land like cracks in thin ice. Someone nearby was fighting—or dying.
He frowned.
Trouble, he thought instinctively. And trouble, to Li Chen, was synonymous with danger, unpredictability, and unnecessary exposure. His first impulse was simple: avoid it. Retreat deeper into concealment. Let fate take its course.
Yet before he could suppress it, a familiar fluctuation brushed against his spiritual sense.
Sect qi.
Not just one—but several. Weak. Scattered. Panicked.
Li Chen's fingers tightened.
"Damn it," he muttered softly.
He rose without hesitation, suppressing his aura until it was no more noticeable than drifting dust. With a single step, his body blurred, moving along the terrain in a way that seemed almost natural, as though the realm itself had carried him forward. The Divine Sword Breathing guided his motion—each inhale stabilizing space, each exhale minimizing disturbance.
He arrived at the edge of a shattered ravine.
Below, five disciples of his sect were trapped. Their robes were torn, blood staining the stones beneath their feet. At the center of the ravine writhed a massive beast—its body plated with black crystalline scales, six eyes glowing with malignant intelligence. A Void Maw Lizard, a mid-tier secret realm predator.
Too strong for them.
One of the disciples screamed as the beast's tail smashed into the ground, sending shards of stone flying. Another was already unconscious, barely protected by a flickering defensive talisman.
Li Chen's eyes narrowed.
Idiots, he thought coldly. Charging in without reconnaissance. No formation. No retreat path.
Still… they wore his sect's insignia.
He exhaled.
The Divine Sword Breathing shifted.
His heart rate slowed. His presence thinned. Sword intent condensed inward instead of outward, compressing into a razor-thin line so refined it barely existed. This was not a strike meant to dazzle—it was meant to end things quietly.
Li Chen stepped forward.
The Void Maw Lizard sensed something and reared its head, six eyes scanning wildly. Too late.
Li Chen flicked his finger.
No light. No sound.
A line appeared across the beast's neck—so fine it took a heartbeat to register. Then the head slid cleanly from the body, crashing into the ravine floor as the massive form collapsed, lifeless, without even a death roar.
Silence followed.
The five disciples froze, staring at the corpse in disbelief.
"What… just happened?" one whispered.
Li Chen was already moving.
He swept through the ravine like a shadow, his hands flashing as he activated talismans, sealed wounds, and stabilized qi flows with precise pulses of sword intent—gentle, controlled, life-preserving.
"You," he said calmly, kneeling beside the unconscious disciple. "Broken meridians. Stop circulating qi."
The disciple obeyed instinctively, even before realizing who had spoken.
Only then did the others finally recognize him.
"Li—Li Chen?!" one gasped, eyes wide. "Core Disciple Li Chen?!"
Li Chen straightened slowly, expression unreadable.
"You shouldn't be here," another said hurriedly. "This area was supposed to be—"
"Clear?" Li Chen interrupted softly. "The Realm doesn't care about your assumptions."
They flinched.
He scanned them quickly, committing their conditions to memory. None were beyond saving. Reckless, yes—but alive.
"You were tracked," Li Chen continued. "The blood you spilled attracted it."
One disciple clenched his fists. "We… we didn't expect a Void Maw Lizard to appear so close to the outer zone."
Li Chen said nothing.
He reached into his storage ring and tossed out several jade bottles and formation flags.
"Take these," he said. "Activate the concealment formation. Leave this place immediately after treating your wounds."
One of them hesitated. "Senior Brother Li… you saved us. We—"
"Don't thank me," Li Chen said flatly. "Gratitude creates attachment. Attachment creates expectations. Expectations get people killed."
They fell silent.
Li Chen turned away, already preparing to leave.
"Wait!" one of the disciples called out urgently. "Senior Brother—why did you help us?"
Li Chen paused.
For a moment, Xu Ming's face surfaced in his mind. The boy's reckless loyalty. His vow. His trust.
"…Because," Li Chen said quietly, "survival improves the odds."
With that, he stepped back—and vanished, his presence dissolving into the Realm as though he had never been there.
The disciples stood frozen long after he left, staring at the corpse of the beast, then at each other.
"A monster…" one whispered.
"No," another corrected softly. "A protector."
Elsewhere, far from prying senses, Li Chen slowed and finally allowed himself to breathe.
His heart pounded—not from exertion, but from risk.
Too close, he thought. If I had been careless, if the Divine Breath had leaked…
He shook his head, forcing calm.
Still, as he resumed his secluded path, one truth settled firmly in his mind:
No matter how much he avoided trouble, as long as he walked this path…
his blade would inevitably cross fate.
And sometimes—against his better judgment—it would save instead of retreat.