After a good night’s rest and a hearty breakfast of cooked boar that someone had caught, we were all ready to set off once again.

Unlike yesterday, the team members had become more accustomed to being around each other, and even as we ran, some of them were engaged in conversation.

Teams had naturally formed, consisting of those who had helped in the camp, those who had gone hunting, and others who had specific duties the day before.

As expected, young people always make friends more easily. It almost made me smile; this was how youngsters were supposed to spend their time, not worrying about life or death or which elders they shouldn’t offend.

I was at the forefront of leading the group since I was the fastest and technically the second in command. Song Song was a step ahead of me. She slowed down and walked beside me, saying, “We are going too slowly.”

“This pace is for the best. After all, this long journey isn’t a race but a marathon,” I replied.

“Marathon?” she queried.

“If we run faster, we will get tired faster too. But by maintaining a steady pace, we could run all day long,” I explained.

She frowned, seeming a bit confused, but she nodded nonetheless. “I will trust your decision.”

She then smiled, revealing her pearly white teeth with canines that looked unnervingly like those of a half-vampire.

I must have inadvertently shown my thoughts on my face because she looked at me and tilted her head, confused. “What is wrong?”

“Do you want the truth or a polite lie?” I asked, ensuring it was her decision to make.

“The truth, of course,” she replied, her frown returning. “Also, you need to tell me only the truth from now on and stop asking for permission.”

I almost remarked that her smile was creepy, but the situation called for tact.

How could I convey this without hurting her feelings? People who claimed they wanted the truth often preferred a softened version.

Then, a memory from my past life surfaced—a YouTube video where a fashion critic started with compliments before giving criticism. Everyone smiled in the end, even when they received a low score.

“So, why did you smile back there?” I asked as we swung under a tree and pushed a bit ahead.

She effortlessly matched my pace, and while still within everyone’s sight, they shouldn’t hear us.

Her face was unreadable, and I could see the gears turning in her head.

Finally, Song Song’s shoulders slumped, and she said, “I saw you do it when talking to the others. I assumed it would be a good approach to becoming a good leader and putting them more at ease.”

Hadn’t she previously stated she didn’t care about leadership? What prompted her change of mind?

“Just because someone has a nice smile doesn’t make them a good leader,” I asserted, recalling all the politicians in my previous life who had pleasant smiles. “You have nice teeth and a pretty appearance. But a good leader doesn’t necessarily need to be all smiles. Contrarily, being a strict commander with subordinates doesn’t make them a bad leader.”

“I see...” was all she said before surging ahead of me, and I wisely chose not to follow.

Philosophy wasn’t my forte. In my previous world, I was just an ordinary guy. Yet here I was, grappling with individuals wielding excessive power while straddling the fine line between honesty and not provoking the girl who could rip my head off.

...

After some time, we finally emerged from the forest and encountered a rocky terrain. In the distance loomed deserted mountains, devoid of even a blade of grass.

It appeared as though someone had sheared away all vegetation, leaving only rocks and rock formations in its wake. Rocky hills dotted the landscape, stretching as far as the eye could see.

This was likely the battleground of past cultivators. The abrupt transition from forest to rocky wasteland seemed unnatural.

Before venturing further, I caught up with Song Song and inquired, “Are there any food sources in these rocky lands?”

She shrugged, “How would I know? I’m not a hunter.”

As the leader, she should have familiarized herself with the terrain we were traversing. However, the Sect seldom entrusted outer disciples with such information.

“What about the length of this rocky path? Do you anticipate spending days traveling through it?” I pressed.

While cultivators were resilient, most of us were at Body Tempering stage and vulnerable to thirst or hunger.

She shrugged again, producing a piece of paper that she revealed. Observing the silver ring on her pinky, I realized it must be a storage ring.

Taking the paper, I perused it. It was a map of our surrounding area, with a location marked by a red X akin to a pirate’s treasure. “Our destination is an island?”

Liu Feng’s memories indicated that the entrance exam usually occurred near the Sect.

“After a recent incident, the Sect has decided to thoroughly screen all newcomers to prevent any from slipping through to wreak havoc in the inner sect,” she clarified. “Meaning they also won’t allow anyone close to the sect gates without making sure they’re not enemies.”

Examining the map, I noted the absence of measurements and discrepancies in distances between landmarks like Greengrass Town and the Sect. The forest also seemed wider in reality than depicted on the map.

Clearly, this was an unreliable map.

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“I believe we should rest and gather food. We have no idea how lengthy the journey through this barren wasteland might be,” I suggested.

“Are those your orders?” she inquired, her eyes strangely calm.

“No, it’s merely my suggestion. As the team leader, you make the final decisions,” I affirmed.

She sighed and played with her hair for a moment before nodding. “Sure, we’ll go with that.”

I returned to instructing everyone on what to do and how to search for food. It was autumn, so there might be fewer animals out and about as in summer or spring. The knowledge I had gained from books in the library proved helpful at this moment.

Everything progressed smoothly as I went about my tasks, except for Song Song’s persistent stare from a distance. Even when I turned towards her, and our gazes met. She continued to stare, her expression unwavering.

Usually, catching someone staring would elicit at least a hint of embarrassment or a quick look away, but not with Song Song.

To be honest, her stare was a bit unnerving, but I kept my composure and acted as though I hadn’t noticed her looking, all the while inwardly hoping she wasn’t plotting my demise.

Once the instructions were given, everyone dispersed to their tasks. I set up the usual alarm array and then settled down to peruse my book containing cultivation discoveries.

While I understood that certain arrays were more effective in specific environments, the disparity between learning about them on the second floor and utilizing them in real life was apparent.

Just as I was jotting down my findings, a hand adorned with a silver ring on its pinky finger suddenly grabbed my book. It was Song Song, and she started reading before I could even react, “What’s with the weird writing?”

“It’s a language known to some of my clan members. Perhaps my ancestors developed it as a form of code,” I explained.

In reality, the language was just English, albeit with rather poor handwriting. Using a brush didn’t improve my handwriting; it only exacerbated them.

“What’s written in this book? I notice you also have another one close to your chest,” she remarked matter-of-factly.

“I record my insights on cultivation in this one, while the other contains my personal status page. It’s reassuring to track my progress and maintain data for the future,” I replied.

“A status page?”

“Think of it as a progress report on myself.”

“Ah, so you document your strength and such. Isn’t that risky? What if an enemy were to obtain it from you?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Or do you trust that no family member would become your adversary?”

In many respects, she had a point. Perhaps there had even been a previous reincarnator who had introduced English somewhere in this world’s corners. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t contemplated such scenarios before.

“I always keep the books close to my chest, quite literally,” I quipped. Song Song chuckled at my feeble attempt at humor, prompting me to continue. “If someone were fast and skilled enough to slip their hand down my clothes and retrieve the book from the inner pockets of my robe without my notice, then they would likely have the skill to easily kill me. In that case, knowing my abilities becomes insignificant.”

Of course, that was assuming any English-speaking individual from another world would be strong and skilled enough to decipher my chicken-scratch handwriting.

When I was younger, my friends and I used to joke that I would become a doctor with that kind of penmanship.

“Still, a warrior must always be on guard,” she remarked as she handed the book back to me.

“Well, let me share the most important reason why I write these things down,” I replied, smiling as I met her expectant gaze. “Because I enjoy it, and I don’t care. I don’t consider myself a warrior, and conducting this research is enjoyable for me.”

Her excited demeanor swiftly dampened, and she frowned. It seemed my words hadn’t aligned with her expectations.

What did she anticipate me saying? Something profound?

“You’re crazy,” she declared. “But I appreciate that kind of madness. I, too, want to live life on my own terms. To kill anyone I want, eat anyone I want, and savor all that this world has to offer.”

Did she just mention eating anyone she wanted? Was that a slip of the tongue? Well, mistaking words happens to the best of us... I wasn’t touching that with a twenty-foot pole.

I decided to act as though I hadn’t even heard it. “Would you like to hear about what I’ve learned about cultivation? I can translate it for you.”

Her frown deepened, and she regarded me as though I’d uttered the most outrageous statement. I could somewhat understand her reaction since cultivators typically didn’t share such information with others. Before she could respond to my offer, I began recounting my discoveries.

...

It took some time, and by then everyone had already set up camp in the distance, started a fire, and begun drying the meat of the animals they had caught. Without Song Song around to intimidate them, they were enjoying themselves. So, I selflessly entertained the curiosity of this crazy girl by translating.

As I concluded my explanation, she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I’ve learned a few new things, but nothing groundbreaking. These might be details one could find in books I didn’t bother reading before. You’re not hiding anything from me, are you?”

“Nope,” I replied, shaking my head and leaning against a rock to find a comfortable position to sleep, occasionally checking to ensure the array was still functioning.

Song Song narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing my expression for any discrepancies, but found none. “You’re so strange.”

Now, it was my turn to chuckle. “Tell me about it. Sometimes, I’m a mystery even to myself.”

In my previous world, scientists shared knowledge with one another. If Einstein had kept his formulas to himself and other scientists had done the same, the world would never have progressed. In my view, each scientist built upon the knowledge of others, much like Einstein relied on Newton’s findings and so forth.

“Later in my life, I will publish all these discoveries in a language everyone can understand,” I informed her.

What I didn’t vocalize was my likelihood of doing so only after my death. Just in case sharing this knowledge caused widespread chaos or if hidden forces were already aware of such information and sought to eliminate me.

Spreading knowledge about cultivation to the broader populace seemed preferable to hoarding it among the powerful elite who often abused their authority.

Even if the rest of my life was mundane, the era following my demise would be interesting if I learned something worth sharing. Unless, of course, I perished as an anonymous figure in the wilderness. Perhaps by that time my perspective might shift, as I wouldn’t want my descendants or loved ones to navigate a world in turmoil. Especially not one I started.

With these ruminations swirling in my mind, I opted to not contemplate grander matters. With my eyes closed, the world became clearer to my other senses, particularly the sixth sense that detected Qi.

Unlike the Blazing Sun Sect, the Qi here felt rigid, unyielding, and stagnant. This terrain was ideal for constructing stable barrier arrays.

I used to sense Qi only in moments of high concentration, like during battles. However, since then, I've been able to perceive it more easily and understand how arrays functioned.

Arrays operated like a cryptic code, manipulating the surrounding environment to achieve desired outcomes. Coding might be too literal a comparison, but it resembled a complex language where each character held significance when combined with others. Additionally, environmental factors such as high concentrations of Water Qi near the sea or Fire Qi around volcanoes played roles, while ritual components like salt expelled impurities to fortify shields.

The mere contemplation of these concepts filled me with excitement. There were countless experiments I wished to conduct now that I had ventured beyond the Sect’s confines.

Suddenly, I pressed my ear to the ground, attempting to rest my head and catch some sleep. It was not the most comfortable position, but I would make do since it would be easier to keep the barrier up with-...

A tremor rippled through the underground, followed by a rumble before silence engulfed the surroundings.

What was that?

Why did it sound as though something was crawling underground?