The next morning, before the first sliver of dawn breached the dark horizon, Han Yu—now fully in the role of "Han Yi"—stood beside the caravan, gear packed and glaive strapped to his back.
He kept his expression neutral but his senses sharp.
The disguise was simple but effective. With his soot-darkened hair, sun-worn skin, and traveler’s robes patched in just the right places, he looked no different than any of the other wandering cultivators desperate for work in the borderlands.
rchant Kuo barked out a few quick orders to get the wagons rolling, and with a creak of wheels and snorts from the ox beasts, they set off. Han Yu took up a position near the rear left cart, neither drawing attention nor seeming too distant. Just another face in the crowd of caravan guards.
The first day was uneventful.
This section of the Plateau was mostly safe, the terrain flat and the surrounding hills sparse and low. The air was cool, the sky broad and washed with drifting white clouds. Occasionally, a wind would pick up and rustle the yellowed grass, bringing with it the faint dry scent of rough grass and the far-off screech of so flying beast.
The guards around him weren’t exactly chatty. Most had traveled this route several tis, and they spent more energy swatting away flies and chewing dry jerky than making conversation. Han Yu didn’t press them either. It was better to ease into this identity naturally.
Beasts did appear, of course, but none of them were threats. A couple of Rockhide Boars erged from a thicket, squealing and charging one of the ox beasts, but three guards made quick work of them with coordinated strikes.
Later in the afternoon, a lone Crimson Fang Lizard ambled onto the road, tongue flicking toward the scent of at. Han Yu was the first to step up, his glaive cutting low and fast, and with two strikes, he brought it down cleanly.
He made sure not to use the Bolt God Fist—too distinctive, too risky. Instead, he relied on the Falling Leaf Strike, a widespread Qi skill that emphasized fluidity and swiftness. Common enough that no one batted an eye.
His performance didn’t go unnoticed.
"That was a clean finish," a gruff voice comnted from behind him.
Han Yu turned and saw a tall guard with a jagged scar across his forehead nodding in approval. "Not bad for a ’small-ti hunter.’ Where’d you get that glaive, anyway?"
Han Yu smiled casually. "Got it off a traveling cultivator. Man owed a fortune in gambling debt and didn’t want to lose his limbs. I offered him so spirit stones and he gave the weapon instead. Cheap trade."
The scarred guard laughed. "Hah! Idiot probably went and lost the stones, too. Well, lucky for you. It’s a decent weapon."
A few others chuckled and nodded, and then the conversation moved on. Just like that, Han Yu passed another layer of suspicion.
The rest of the day went smoothly. The caravan moved at a steady pace, stopping only once to rest the beasts and check the axles. By nightfall, they set up camp along a low ridge near a cluster of boulders. Simple tents were pitched, a few cooking fires lit, and patrols were assigned. Han Yu volunteered for the midnight shift, wanting to stay in good standing.
No one questioned him.
By the second day, the land began to change.
The gentle hills gave way to steeper rises and uneven ground. The caravan path curved along a broader route—not the straight one Han Yu had originally considered.
That narrow path was simply too tight for wagons and ox beasts, especially ones this heavily loaded. Instead, they followed a wider arc around the central rise of the Plateau, through areas less explored but still within the sphere of Mist Eye influence.
Beasts appeared more frequently here.
So, like the Fla-Tailed Weasels, darted in and out of the brush, trying to gnaw at the leather packs. Others, like the Stone Arm Apes that threw stones from distant ledges, were more bark than bite.
The guards handled them all easily, but Han Yu made sure to pitch in. He kept his presence just active enough to show usefulness, helping stabilize carts during turns, assisting in lifting crates, and volunteering to track down a run-off ox beast that had bolted after a loud roar from the rocky outcrops during their halt.
He earned a few nods. One of the older guards even tossed him an extra chunk of dried at during the evening al.
That night, the caravan camped in a depression between two rocky ridges. The strong winds funneled down the slope and made the fires flicker, but no one complained. The guards huddled around the flas, sharing quiet stories and cursing the long trip.
Han Yu kept his ears open.
He learned that so of the older guards had once worked directly for the Mist Eye Sect, not as official mbers of course, but just escorting disciples and supplies from the stronghold to nearby villages.
They ntioned that the outpost they were heading to had only been ford recently, and that even now, it was still under construction. Apparently, more supplies were being sent over the coming weeks, including stone for fortifications and a shipnt of formation flags.
That piqued his interest.
Formation flags could an the outpost was going to beco a permanent base, perhaps even part of a larger array connected to sothing in the Caldera. Maybe even to the altar.
Han Yu said nothing.
The third day began before dawn.
The caravan moved slower now, navigating uneven terrain and skirting dense rocks and boulders along with the vents spewing hot steam and smoke lying in their path. By midday, the road widened again, and the land began to slope slightly downward. Then, just past a curved cliffside trail, the Mist Eye Outpost ca into view.
It wasn’t massive. Not yet, anyway.
Built into a shelf overlooking the Caldera’s western basin, the outpost had thick stone walls on three sides and a steep cliff face behind it.
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