Chapter 145: Chapter 145: Fortifying Defense

There were no obvious guards at the entrance.

No visible patrols circling it.

But that alone made it more dangerous.

Its perception spread outward carefully, brushing against the air, feeling for disturbances, for hidden watchers, for anything that didn’t belong.

Nothing obvious.

That didn’t mean safe.

Nyxveil circled the building slowly, never stepping into direct light, always staying within the darkest angles, observing every window, every seam in the walls, every slight gap in the structure.

Time passed.

Then it found it.

A narrow opening near the back, where the wall met a slightly raised foundation, just enough space for something without form to slip through.

Nyxveil didn’t hesitate.

Its body thinned, stretching into a narrow strand of shadow before sliding into the gap, passing through stone like smoke slipping between fingers.

Inside, the air changed. Quiet and heavy.

The kind of stillness that came from someone who didn’t need to move to dominate a space.

Nyxveil reformed slowly along the inner wall, its shape barely visible, its presence held back as much as possible.

Then it saw him.

At the center of the chamber, a man sat cross-legged on a raised platform, his back straight, his breathing slow and even, each inhale and exhale so controlled that it almost felt like the room itself was following his rhythm.

Sect Master Fuing.

His eyes were closed.

But that didn’t make him unaware.

The energy around him was dense, refined, circulating through his body in a steady flow that never broke, never wavered, like a river that had been flowing for decades without disturbance.

Nyxveil didn’t move.

For the first time since entering the sect, something inside it reacted.

Not fear.

But recognition.

Danger.

Real danger.

A faint shift passed through its form, almost instinctive, pulling itself thinner, quieter, reducing even the smallest trace of its existence.

“…This human…”

The thought formed clearly.

“…is bad news.”

It observed carefully.

The flow of energy.

The depth of control.

The faint pressure that spread outward even without intent.

“…He’s at the edge,” Nyxveil assessed silently. “One step more… and he crosses it.”

Qi Sense Stage.

If this man broke through, everything would change.

Nyxveil remained completely still, not even letting its awareness push too close, careful not to brush against that steady flow of energy surrounding him.

Then, Fuing’s breathing paused.

Just for a fraction of a second.

So small that no normal person would notice.

But Nyxveil did.

Its entire form tightened.

Fuing’s eyes did not open.

But his voice came, calm and low.

“…Strange.”

Nyxveil did not move.

Not even a single flicker.

Fuing’s brow furrowed slightly.

“For a moment…”

A faint pause.

“…it felt like something was here.”

Silence returned.

The air stilled again.

Then, slowly, his breathing resumed, steady as before.

“…Hmph. My mind is restless tonight.”

He did not open his eyes again.

But the awareness in the room did not fade completely.

Nyxveil understood.

This man could not sense him.

But he could feel disturbances.

Even the smallest ones.

That alone made him far more dangerous than anyone else in the sect.

Nyxveil slowly withdrew its presence even further, pressing itself deeper into the shadow behind a carved pillar, choosing not to stay any longer than necessary.

Nyxveil did not linger.

The moment it judged that staying any longer would risk exposure, its form loosened, thinning into strands of darkness that slipped along the base of the wall, retreating the same way it had entered, silent and without a trace.

It emerged outside the chamber just as quietly, reforming beneath the shadow of the foundation, its presence faint once more.

The air outside felt lighter.

But Nyxveil did not relax.

Not after what it had just seen.

Sect Master Fuing was not someone it could ignore.

That alone was enough to change how it moved.

It adjusted its path immediately.

Nyxveil slipped away from the Sect Master’s chamber without leaving even the smallest trace, its form stretching thin along the ground before rising into the shadows of a nearby structure, reforming just enough to continue moving.

It did not rush.

After what it had just seen, every step became more careful.

More deliberate.

The sect was not just guarded by numbers.

It had depth.

Nyxveil moved across rooftops and walls, its presence fading in and out as it passed through darker sections of the inner grounds, avoiding the faintest traces of stronger energy signatures, always adjusting its path based on what it felt rather than what it saw.

Time passed quietly.

Then it found the next one.

A private courtyard, slightly separated from the others, with a small stone garden and a narrow pond reflecting the dim lanternlight. Inside the room, a man sat alone, his upper body bare, faint scars crossing his skin, his breathing slow but heavy with power, each inhale drawing in energy, each exhale pushing it out in controlled waves.

Peak body tempering.

Nyxveil remained outside, clinging to the shadow beneath the window frame, observing without stepping closer.

Nyxveil moved on.

Not long after, it found the second.

This one was deeper inside the residential section, within a larger room filled with weapons, racks of spears and blades lining the walls. The man inside was polishing a long spear, his movements steady and precise, but his energy was contained, hidden beneath a calm surface.

Another peak body tempering.

Nyxveil watched from above, clinging to the ceiling beam where the light did not reach.

Nyxveil left without delay.

The third one took longer to find.

This one was not resting.

He was meditating.

Deep within a secluded chamber, sealed more tightly than the others, faint formation lines drawn around the floor.

The man sat in the center, completely still, his aura compressed tightly around his body, not leaking out at all.

Peak body tempering.

Nyxveil did not even approach the entrance.

It only brushed against the outer shadow, confirming what it needed before pulling back immediately.

Three more.

That made seven.

Nyxveil stopped at the highest point it could reach within the sect, standing along the edge of a tall structure overlooking most of the inner grounds, its form barely visible against the night sky.

Below, the sect stretched out in layers.

Everything it had seen, everything it had felt, settled into place.

Seven peak body tempering practitioners.

One sect master on the edge of something greater.

Thousands below them.

Nyxveil observed in silence for a long moment.

Then the thought formed clearly.

“…This should be all their warriors.”

Not exact.

It simply thinned into the darkness, dissolving into the night as if it had never been there.

And just like that, Nyxveil left the Clear Water Sect, carrying everything it had seen back to its master.

—-

By the time the Lost Bears mercenary group reached the town, the tension in the air was already thick enough to feel.

The gates were open, but not welcoming.

Guards stood on both sides, gripping their weapons too tightly, eyes constantly scanning the road behind the mercenaries as if expecting something to appear at any moment.

Inside, the streets were restless.

People moved in clusters, whispering, packing belongings, arguing in hushed but desperate voices. Some carried bundles. Others led children by the hand. A few had already loaded carts, clearly ready to leave at the first chance.

Fear had already settled in.

It wasn’t panic yet.

But it was close.

Voss walked at the front of his men, his expression steady as always, though his eyes missed nothing. He could see it clearly. This town was already cracking.

Voss walked at the front of his men, his boots hitting the stone road in a steady rhythm that cut through the uneasy noise of the town, his gaze sweeping across everything without turning his head too much, taking in the fear, the tension, the way people looked at them not with relief alone, but with desperation.

Word spread fast.

“Mercenaries…”

“From the city…”

“They’re here…”

By the time they reached the center, a group was already waiting.

At the front stood a man in fine robes, though the way he held himself made it clear he hadn’t slept properly in days, his eyes tired, but alert, constantly shifting as if expecting bad news at any moment.

The town lord.

The moment he saw them clearly, his expression changed.

Relief.

Real relief.

He stepped forward quickly, almost too quickly for someone of his position.

“You… you’re from Valen City?” he asked, his voice carrying both hope and urgency.

Voss stopped a few steps away from him, resting his saber against his shoulder again, his posture relaxed, but not careless.

“Yes,” Voss answered simply.

The town lord let out a breath he had been holding for far too long.

“Thank god…” he said under his breath, then louder, “There’s finally reinforcement.”

Behind him, a few guards visibly loosened their grip on their weapons, though not completely. The fear wasn’t gone. Not even close.

Voss glanced around again.

People watching.

Listening.

Waiting.

“You’re holding things together,” Voss said.

The town lord gave a bitter smile.

“Barely.”

He looked over his shoulder, toward the streets where people were still gathering their things.

“They want to leave,” he said quietly. “Most of them already tried.”

Voss raised an eyebrow slightly.

“And you stopped them.”

It wasn’t a question.

The town lord didn’t deny it.

“If they all leave, this place dies overnight,” he said. “No workers, no guards, no one to maintain anything. This town will crumble before any monster even arrives.”

His hands clenched slightly at his sides.

“I don’t have a choice.”

Voss studied him for a moment.

There was no arrogance there.

Just pressure.

Too much of it.

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