The warmth on Luo Yanxue's finger spread like a slow-burning ember.
Not painful.
But unmistakable.
The ring was reacting.
And the moment he realized that, the fear in his chest deepened into something colder and heavier—an instinctive understanding that whatever stood before him was not merely sensing him, but sensing the world he carried.
The creature took another step forward.
Its feet barely touched the ground, yet the air seemed to ripple around it, as if space itself were being disturbed by its presence. The amber eyes remained fixed on the ring, their gaze sharp, greedy, and unnervingly intelligent.
"You don't belong here," Luo Yanxue said, his voice low and steady despite the storm in his heart. "This place is abandoned. There's nothing for you."
The creature tilted its head.
The motion was slow, almost curious, like a scholar observing a rare specimen.
"Abandoned?" it whispered. "No… this place is only quiet. Quiet places are where doors are easiest to hear."
A shiver ran down Luo Yanxue's spine.
Doors.
Again with that word.
The ring grew warmer.
He did not know why, but a sudden image flashed in his mind—the seam in the grey soil inside the ring, that thin dark line like a closed eyelid, like a sealed passage. The faint mist. The ancient scent.
Was this thing connected to that?
Or worse… did it recognize it?
He shifted his stance slightly, angling his body so that the doorway behind him was within a single step. The knife in his hand was raised now, not threatening, but ready.
"You followed the footprints here," he said. "Why?"
The creature's lips parted again, revealing teeth that were too even, too clean for someone who lived among ruins.
"Because you walk between breaths," it replied. "Between the warm world and the sleeping one."
Its gaze flicked, just for an instant, to the ring.
Then back to his eyes.
"You opened something without knowing what it was."
The air in the room seemed to grow heavier, pressing down on his shoulders.
A cultivator?
A monster?
A spirit?
Luo Yanxue had no frame of reference. He did not even know this was a cultivation world. All he knew was that the thing in front of him was not bound by the same rules as ordinary life.
And that made it dangerous beyond measure.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said truthfully. "And I don't plan to let anyone touch what's mine."
The creature's smile widened.
"Mine… yours… such small words for something that has no owner yet."
It took another step.
This time, the shadows behind it stirred, stretching unnaturally along the wall, as if pulled by invisible hands.
Luo Yanxue's heart hammered.
If it lunged, could he even react in time?
His mind raced.
The ring. The only advantage he had.
He could enter the grey world in an instant—but could he do it under pressure? Could he focus fast enough? And if he did, what then? Would this thing be able to follow?
The thought alone made his blood run cold.
The creature seemed to sense his hesitation.
It stopped moving.
"Do not be afraid," it said softly. "I am not here to eat you."
A pause.
"At least… not your flesh."
The words were gentle.
The meaning was not.
"What do you want?" Luo Yanxue asked.
The amber eyes glimmered.
"To listen," it replied. "To the world that is learning how to breathe. To the door that has not yet opened. To the master who does not yet know he is one."
Master.
That word struck him harder than any threat.
"I'm just trying to survive," he said. "I don't want trouble. I don't want power. I just want food and a place to live."
The creature studied him for a long moment.
Then, slowly, its expression changed.
The hunger in its eyes did not vanish—but something else surfaced alongside it.
Interest.
"You speak like one who has already died once," it murmured.
Luo Yanxue's pupils contracted.
"How do you know that?"
The creature did not answer directly.
Instead, it raised one thin hand and pointed—not at his chest, but slightly to the side, at the space where the ring-world overlapped with reality in ways he could not see.
"Because only those who have crossed a threshold can carry a door and not be crushed by it."
Silence fell between them.
Outside, a distant roar echoed through the forest—the deep, thunderous sound of the massive beast that ruled the riverbank.
The creature's head turned slightly, as if acknowledging it.
"Your other hunter is awake," it said. "It will come again. And when it does… this village will not hide you."
Luo Yanxue clenched his teeth.
A monster in the forest.
A door-knowing entity in the ruins.
And a mysterious, awakening world in his ring.
Every path seemed to lead deeper into danger.
"Then what do you suggest?" he asked.
The creature looked back at him.
Its smile faded.
For the first time, its expression became serious.
"Grow," it said. "Before the door opens on its own."
The words were calm.
But beneath them lay a warning sharp enough to cut.
"You have planted life in that sleeping land. You have watered it. You have awakened its breath. That is the first step of a very long road."
It stepped back, retreating into the shadows of the back room.
"Soon, others will hear it too."
"Others like you?" Luo Yanxue demanded.
The creature paused.
Then, slowly, it nodded.
"Others who walk between worlds. Others who hunger not for meat, but for realms."
Realms.
Worlds.
The meaning of the ring shifted in Luo Yanxue's mind.
Not a shelter.
Not just a farm.
But something far greater.
Something that could be coveted.
Something that could bring catastrophe.
The creature's form began to blur, its edges dissolving into the dimness like smoke in water.
"One day," its voice echoed softly, "you will understand what you are cultivating."
The last word lingered in the air.
Cultivating.
Not farming.
Not surviving.
Cultivating.
Before he could ask anything more, the shadows folded in on themselves.
The back room was suddenly empty.
No footprints.
No breathing.
No amber eyes.
Only silence.
Luo Yanxue stood frozen, his heart pounding, the knife still raised.
Slowly, he lowered it.
The ring on his finger was no longer warm.
But deep inside, in the grey world beneath the sealed seam of soil, something stirred again.
Not violently.
Not yet.
Like a seed responding to distant thunder.
He backed out of the house, every sense alert, and stepped into the pale morning light.
The fog had fully lifted.
The forest was clear.
Too clear.
As if the world were preparing for something to happen.
He looked down at his hand.
At the simple, ancient ring.
"A door…" he murmured.
If this was truly the beginning of a path he did not understand, then there was only one thing he could do.
Become strong enough to walk it.
Because whether he liked it or not—
He had already stepped through.