Chapter 37: Chapter 37

Dawn came too early. Like it always did. Like it would continue to do for the rest of Hunter’s probably-short life in this murder world.

The Shadow Legion assembled in the pre-dawn gray. Fifteen people plus Hunter. Supplies packed. Weapons ready. Three days of travel ahead through forest that wanted them dead and would probably get creative about it.

Hunter stood at the front, watching everyone prepare. His chest felt tight. Not from injury, that was healing slowly thanks to Foundation Realm recovery and sheer stubborn refusal to stay wounded. This was different. This was the weight of fifteen people who’d sworn their souls to him. Who trusted him. Who’d chosen this insanity.

The weight pressed down like physical force mixed with existential dread.

Stop it. They chose. You didn’t force them. Well, except Tao, Xuan, and Lex originally, but they chose to stay after he freed them from the slave seal, so that counted as voluntary. Sort of. Maybe. Probably not. Legal gray area at best. Morally questionable at minimum.

His brain was doing the thing where it spiraled while simultaneously providing unhelpful legal commentary. Great start to the day.

"Master looks nervous," Tao observed with the helpful insight of someone who enjoyed pointing out obvious things. "Like ’about to vomit in front of everyone’ nervous."

"Your eye is twitching."

"That’s completely unrelated to nervousness."

"Both eyes now. That’s impressive coordination for involuntary muscle spasms."

"Tao, I will make you carry extra supplies. Heavy supplies. Possibly rocks."

"Shutting up immediately, Master."

Han finished organizing the marching formation with military precision that would’ve made drill sergeants weep tears of pride. Experienced cultivators on the outside: him, Iron Zhou, the twins Yun and Wei. New cultivators in the middle: Chen Lao, Mingzhu, Teacher Bai, Wei Suyin. The junior division protected at the center, surrounded by bodies and questionable life choices.

Because apparently they had children now. Children they needed to protect. Children who were technically bandits with organizational roles and probably tax implications Hunter hadn’t considered because he was terrible at paperwork even in worlds without the IRS.

Hunter’s life was a joke and he was simultaneously the punchline, the setup, and also the guy heckling from the back row while throwing tomatoes at his own performance.

"Ready?" Han asked, appearing at Hunter’s elbow like a ninja with military training.

"No. But we’re going anyway because that’s apparently how I make all my decisions now."

"That’s stupidity with organizational responsibilities and a fancy title."

"Same thing from different perspectives." Han’s expression softened slightly, which for him meant the corner of his mouth moved approximately one millimeter. "They trust you. That’s worth something in this world."

"It’s worth terror and stress-induced stomach problems. What if I get them killed through incompetence or bad luck or both simultaneously?"

"Then you’ll have failed spectacularly. But you’ll have tried, which is more than most people do." Han adjusted his spear with practiced efficiency. "Now stop spiraling into anxiety and give them a speech or something. Leaders do that. I’ve seen it happen."

"I don’t know how to give speeches. I barely know how to give directions to the bathroom."

"Then say something honest. That works too. Probably better, actually."

Hunter turned to face the Shadow Legion. Sixteen faces looking at him with varying degrees of confidence, nervousness, and misplaced faith in his leadership abilities. Waiting. Trusting. Believing in him despite overwhelming evidence that he had no idea what he was doing.

His throat felt tight like someone had installed a anxiety vice directly into his windpipe.

Say something. Anything. Don’t just stand there looking constipated. Be inspiring. Be leader-like. Channel that energy from movies where leaders say cool things and people cheer and nobody questions the logic.

"Alright," he said, having learned absolutely nothing from that internal advice. "We’re leaving. Three days to the waystation. It’s going to be hard, dangerous, and probably terrible in ways we can’t currently imagine. But we’re doing it together as a faction, as family, as whatever weird hybrid organization we’ve accidentally created through poor decisions and desperate circumstances."

He paused. Looked at Mei. At the junior division standing with their tiny leader like the world’s most concerning youth group. Wei Lin had his stick for "tactical assessments" that was definitely just a stick. Little Sparrow clutched his stolen rock Gerald like it was a sacred relic. Mei just watched Hunter with those too-serious eyes that saw way too much.

"Including our new junior division. The Shadow Toyz R Us Bandits. Who are apparently a permanent thing now despite my repeated objections, despite common sense, and despite every parenting book I’ve never read but assume would say this is bad."

Light laughter rippled through the group. Tension breaking like morning fog under sunlight. People relaxing slightly while maintaining combat readiness because that was their life now.

"Stay together. Watch each other’s backs. Don’t do anything stupid unless Han approves it first through proper tactical assessment and risk analysis." Hunter looked at Han. "Actually don’t approve anything stupid at all. Just blanket policy."

"Too late. Already approved this entire journey based on optimistic assumptions and questionable logistics."

More laughter. Genuine this time. The kind that meant they were going to be okay. Maybe. Hopefully. Probably not but at least they’d die together as a team.

"Let’s move out," Hunter said with false confidence perfected through practice. "Before I change my mind, or something attacks us, or both happen simultaneously while I’m having a crisis."

The Shadow Legion moved. Sixteen people walking west toward uncertain futures. Toward abandoned waystation. Toward whatever disasters waited with open arms and malicious intent.

The forest swallowed them within minutes. Dense trees blocking sunlight. Dappled shadows creating an atmosphere that was beautiful if you ignored the part where spirit beasts lived here and actively wanted to eat people’s faces.

Hunter’s spiritual sense spread out automatically. Foundation Realm cultivation had perks. One was detecting danger before it arrived. Another was not dying immediately when danger ignored the detection and arrived anyway with friends.

The marching formation worked surprisingly well. Han had drilled it into everyone yesterday with military efficiency. Experienced fighters on perimeter. New cultivators protected in middle. Children safest at center surrounded by bodies and parental anxiety. Everyone knew their role. Everyone moved together.

Like an actual organized group instead of a chaotic mess held together by hope and spite.

Progress. Actual measurable progress.

"Master," Tao called from his position on the left flank, voice carrying concern and confusion. "There’s tracks here. Big tracks. Like ’something large and angry made these’ tracks. What makes tracks this big?"

Han didn’t even look, just called back with professional disinterest. "Iron-Back Boar. D-rank spirit beast. Aggressive, territorial, and has terrible personality. Don’t approach it. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t breathe in its direction."

"How do you know all that without even looking at the tracks?"

"Because I’ve been doing this for twenty years and you’ve been doing it for two weeks. Stay alert. Call out anything unusual that might try to kill us."

"Everything is unusual! We’re in a murder forest where trees probably have opinions about us!"

"Then call out anything more unusual than the baseline murder level we’ve already accepted!"

"That’s a very low bar for threat assessment!"

"Welcome to cultivation world where the bars are low and the survival rates are worse!"

Hunter smiled despite himself. The banter helped. Made things feel less like marching toward inevitable death and more like adventure. Sort of. In a "we’re all going to die but at least it’ll be interesting and we’ll have funny last words" kind of way.

Mei walked beside him, doll clutched tight in small hands. Silent as always. Just watching everything with those observant eyes that missed nothing.

"You okay?" Hunter asked quietly.

"Scared is normal. You said that. During the squirrels when everything was terrible." Her voice stayed steady. Matter-of-fact. "You said fear means you’re paying attention."

"I did say that. I occasionally say smart things by accident."

"So I’m normal. Just scared normal instead of broken scared." She looked up at him with those too-wise eyes. "Are you scared?"

Hunter’s first instinct was to lie. Say no. Project confidence. Be the strong leader who never doubts or worries or has anxiety spirals at three in the morning.

But this was Mei. She’d see through it instantly. Kid was seven and a half going on seventy with a psychology degree.

"Yeah," he admitted, voice quiet. "I’m scared. Terrified, actually. What if something goes wrong? What if I make the wrong call? What if I get people killed because I’m bad at this and have no idea what I’m doing?"

"Then you’ll figure it out like you always do." Her voice had that matter-of-fact certainty that children somehow possessed despite limited life experience. "You made four copies of yourself while bleeding from eight wounds. This is just walking. Walking is definitely easier than whatever that was."

"That’s exactly what Han said earlier. Word for word. Are you two coordinating?"

"Han is smart. You should listen to Han more often instead of arguing with him about everything."

"I’m trying. He makes it difficult by being right all the time."

They walked in comfortable silence. Hunter’s fear didn’t go away. But it felt manageable. Like something he could carry instead of something carrying him toward panic.

[LUNA] SHE’S VERY GOOD AT THIS (◕‿◕✿)

"At what specifically?"

[LUNA] EMOTIONAL SUPPORT

[LUNA] MAKING YOU FEEL BETTER WHEN YOU’RE SPIRALING

[LUNA] DAUGHTER ENERGY ♥

"She’s not my daughter. We’ve been over this."

[LUNA] YOU KEEP SAYING THAT

[LUNA] SHE KEEPS ACTING LIKE IT

[LUNA] AT SOME POINT YOU NEED TO ACCEPT REALITY INSTEAD OF DENYING OBVIOUS FACTS

"Reality is complicated and full of nuance."

[LUNA] REALITY IS: SHE CHOSE YOU

[LUNA] YOU CHOSE TO PROTECT HER

[LUNA] THAT’S FAMILY REGARDLESS OF BIOLOGY

[LUNA] DEAL WITH IT (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧

Hunter didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. Because Luna was absolutely right and he didn’t know how to feel about that. Didn’t know how to be a father. Didn’t know if he even qualified for the role. Hadn’t filled out any applications or taken any parenting classes.

But Mei’s hand found his. Small fingers wrapping around his larger ones. Like it was natural. Like she’d always done this. Like they’d been family for years instead of weeks.

His chest felt tight again. Different tight. Not fear tight. Something warmer. Something that made his eyes sting slightly.

He squeezed back gently.

They stopped after four hours of sustained marching. Han called it with military precision. "Rest period. Hydrate or suffer consequences. We move again in twenty minutes. No exceptions."

Everyone collapsed gratefully. Traveling through wilderness was harder than it looked in movies. Uneven terrain. Constant alertness. Bodies not used to sustained marching while watching for things that wanted to eat their faces.

Hunter sat on a fallen log. His legs ached despite Foundation Realm strength. His shoulder still throbbed from the alpha wolf wound. Everything hurt in new and creative ways his body was discovering.

Qiu appeared with waterskins like a merchant ninja. "Hydrate or die. Those are your only options."

"You’re very motivational. Really inspiring stuff."

"I’m practical. Dead people don’t pay debts. Also they can’t buy things. Very bad for business and my profit margins." Qiu sat beside him, pulled out his ever-present ledger with the devotion of someone consulting holy scripture. "We’re making good time. Fifteen miles by nightfall if we maintain current pace. That puts us at the waystation in three days easily. Assuming nothing kills us."

"You mean assuming nothing attacks us."

"No, I mean assuming nothing kills us," Qiu corrected with merchant precision. "Things will definitely attack us. This is spirit beast territory. The question is whether we survive the attacks or become forest fertilizer."

"You’re terrible at pep talks. The worst I’ve ever experienced."

"I don’t do pep talks. I do reality checks with financial implications." Qiu made notes in his ledger. "Also I have you at three-to-one odds of making it to the waystation alive, so please don’t die. I bet silver on you with several merchants."

"You’re betting on my survival? That’s both touching and concerning."

"Everything’s a transaction in my world. But honestly? We’re doing well. Formation is solid. People are adapting faster than expected. Even the junior division is behaving, which I didn’t think was possible."

Hunter looked over at Mei, Wei Lin, and Little Sparrow. They were sitting together, sharing dried meat, arguing about something with the intensity of philosophers debating ethics. Wei Lin was drawing tactical diagrams in the dirt with his stick. Little Sparrow was gesticulating wildly with his rock Gerald, nearly hitting Wei Lin in the face twice while making passionate points. Mei was listening with the patience of a parent managing toddlers while simultaneously being a toddler herself.

"Biggest stick wins," Little Sparrow was explaining with absolute conviction. "That’s basic tactical theory according to Gerald."

"That’s not how proper tactics work," Wei Lin said, voice dripping with eight-year-old condescension. "Tactics require planning, positioning, resource allocation."

"Has worked so far for every fight we’ve been in."

Wei Lin paused. Considered the evidence. Made calculations. "That’s disturbingly valid and I hate that you’re right."

"Gerald is always right. He’s geologically superior."

"She’s good at this," Hunter said quietly, watching Mei mediate.

"Leadership. Natural talent for it." Qiu followed his gaze with merchant appreciation. "Reminds me of you, actually. Same energy. Different scale."

"I’m terrible at leadership. The worst. Objectively bad."

"You’re reluctant at leadership. That’s completely different. The terrible leaders are the ones who desperately want power and authority. You don’t want it at all. That paradoxically makes you better at it."

"That logic makes absolutely no sense."

"Welcome to cultivation world where nothing makes sense and the rules are made up and everyone’s probably dying." Qiu closed his ledger with satisfaction. "But we’re alive. Moving forward. Making progress. That’s success in this business."

Hunter watched the Shadow Legion rest. Fifteen people scattered across the clearing like dropped pieces on a game board. Some sleeping with mouths open and questionable snoring patterns. Some eating dried rations that tasted like regret mixed with salt. Some just sitting in exhausted silence while processing the fact that they were actually doing this insane thing and hadn’t died yet.

Day one, halfway done. No attacks. No disasters. Just walking and banter and bonding.

But the wrongness in the air hadn’t faded. If anything, it was getting stronger. Like they were walking toward something. Something waiting. Something patient.

Hunter’s spiritual sense stretched out again. Searching. Finding nothing but that persistent wrongness that made his skin crawl. Orıginal content can be found at novęlfire.net

He pushed the feeling down. They had another eight hours of travel. Then camp. Then rest. Then more walking tomorrow.

One step at a time. That’s all he could manage.

"Alright," Han called with military efficiency. "Break’s over. We move in five minutes. Get your things together. Complaining is permitted but must be done while walking."

The Shadow Legion stirred. Gathered their things. Prepared for the second half of the day’s march with groans and complaints and determination.

Hunter stood. His legs protested loudly. His shoulder ached with renewed enthusiasm. His brain wanted to stop moving and just exist for a while without responsibility.

But they had miles to cover. And whatever was creating that wrongness wasn’t going to wait for him to feel ready.

Nothing in this world ever did.

That was just how things worked here.

He took a breath. Stretched. Ignored the pain. Started walking.

The Shadow Legion followed.

Together toward whatever waited ahead.