The thin man didn't bind Lin Wuchen's hands.
He didn't need to.
He walked behind Wuchen at a distance of two paces, close enough to strike, far enough not to look nervous. The two hired men flanked wider, stepping through brush with the careless confidence of men who believed cultivators made them untouchable.
Wuchen kept his shoulders slumped and his breathing steady, letting them think his fear had turned him quiet.
He led them along the ridge line, not toward the true roar point, but toward a place where wind funneled through a narrow cut between rocks. Sound traveled strangely there. A distant beast call could be made to feel closer. Footsteps could be hidden.
He chose it on purpose.
The thin man spoke once, voice calm. "If you lie, I'll know."
Wuchen bowed his head. "This one will tell what he heard."
They walked for the length of a hundred breaths.
Then Wuchen slowed.
He stopped at the edge of the rock cut and pointed down into a shallow basin where mist pooled thick and gray.
"From there," Wuchen said quietly. "The roar came from below, then echoed along this wall."
The thin man's eyes narrowed as he peered into the mist. The hired men leaned to look too, greedy and curious, shifting their weight forward.
Wuchen watched their feet.
Loose gravel. Damp moss. The kind of ground that forgave nothing.
The thin man said, "Go down."
Wuchen's throat tightened. "This one only knows the sound."
The thin man stepped closer, qi pressure brushing Wuchen's skin like cold fingers. "Go down," he repeated.
Wuchen nodded slowly, as if obeying.
He stepped toward the slope.
Then he "slipped."
He made it look clumsy, a boot sliding on moss, his body pitching forward. His arm flailed for balance and knocked against the hired man closest to the cliff wall.
The hired man cursed and shoved him.
That shove was what Wuchen wanted.
Wuchen went down on one knee, and as he fell he pulled the clay jar from his sleeve.
Bronze Body marrow paste was thick and warm. It smelled faintly metallic, like old blood mixed with herbs.
Wuchen snapped the lid off with his thumb.
And flung the paste.
Not at the thin man's eyes.
At the ground.
A thick smear hit the damp moss and stone between the hired men's feet, spreading like grease.
The hired men stepped.
Their boots slid instantly.
One flailed and slammed shoulder-first into the rock wall. The other pinwheeled, arms windmilling, and dropped hard onto his back with a wet crack.
The thin man's eyes sharpened, realizing too late that the "slip" wasn't an accident.
He stepped forward to grab Wuchen's collar.
Wuchen surged upward from his knee, driving his shoulder into the thin man's abdomen. It wasn't a strong strike. It was a strike meant to steal breath.
The thin man grunted and staggered half a step.
Wuchen didn't wait.
He ran.
Not downhill.
Sideways, into the rock cut, where mist hid movement and footing forced pursuers to slow.
The thin man swore and lunged after him, faster than the hired men. His qi pressure sharpened into something real now, a thin blade of force that made Wuchen's skin prickle.
Wuchen's lungs burned. His back wound tugged. His bandaged forearm throbbed.
He forced his legs to keep moving.
Behind him, the thin man's footsteps were steady again. Cultivators recovered quickly. He would catch Wuchen if the chase stayed straight.
So Wuchen didn't keep it straight.
He turned suddenly into a narrow crevice between boulders and dropped to his belly, sliding through a gap only a thin boy could fit.
The thin man slammed into the crevice mouth and cursed. He tried to follow, but his shoulders jammed.
His cultivation didn't make his bones smaller.
He reached an arm in, fingers clawing at stone, trying to grab Wuchen's ankle. Qi pressure surged, making the air in the crevice heavy and hot.
Wuchen's ankle was almost caught.
He kicked backward hard.
His heel struck the thin man's wrist bone with a dull crack.
The thin man hissed and yanked his arm back.
Wuchen crawled out the far side of the crevice and rolled down a short slope into thorn brush. Thorns tore his sleeves and bit into skin, but they also hid him.
He lay still for three breaths, listening.
The thin man's curses echoed faintly behind the rocks. The hired men groaned, still recovering from their slips.
Wuchen didn't smile.
He didn't feel victorious.
He felt time.
He had bought a handful of breaths, nothing more.
He crawled through brush and moved downhill toward the ridge that would curve back toward Team Twelve's hollow. His water pouch slapped against his hip. He tightened it.
As he ran, he thought about the marrow paste.
Elder Qin hadn't given it as kindness.
Elder Qin had given it because a tool with wounds was still a tool, and because paste could be used to keep a tool functional.
Wuchen had just used it as grease.
He wondered, briefly, if Elder Qin would laugh if he knew.
By the time Wuchen reached the hollow area, he didn't see Team Twelve.
The hollow was empty.
Branches pulled away. Packs gone. No footprints lingering except his own.
Sun Jiao had moved the team.
Smart.
Also dangerous for Wuchen.
He stood in the cold night air, breathing hard, and listened.
A faint owl call.
Then, lower and closer, a human whistle.
Two notes.
Not a bird.
A signal.
Wuchen's heart tightened. He turned slowly.
Tu Shun stepped out from behind a boulder, smiling.
He wasn't alone.
Ma Qiao stood a few steps behind him, knife in his good hand, wrist still swollen. Qin Sui was farther back, spear tip down but ready. The freckled boy hovered behind them, eyes wide, clutching his single redscale leaf like it was a charm.
Sun Jiao wasn't there.
Tu Shun's smile widened. "You ran," he said.
Wuchen kept his posture low. "I came back," he replied.
Tu Shun shrugged. "Captain moved," he said. "He said if you lived, you'd find us. If you died, you were weight off the pack."
Wuchen's throat tightened. So Sun Jiao had calculated correctly. Not loyalty. Efficiency.
Tu Shun stepped closer, eyes glittering. "Now," he said softly, "tell me where you hid the tusks."
Wuchen's fingers curled inside his sleeves.
So that was it.
The thin man wasn't the only predator.
Inside the team, the split was finally showing teeth.