Chapter 108 · He Is Among the Convoy
The sky hung low, daylight dulled to a washed-out gray.
A fine rain fell in threads, light yet unending.
The inspector scanned the identification list.
“John Wesley. Thirty-six. Bank manager…”
The black-haired man before him wore gold-rimmed glasses. His features were refined, his posture proper. He offered a polite, distant smile—neither ingratiating nor evasive.
Rain drummed softly against the canopy.
The inspector gave him only a cursory glance before waving him forward.
“Go on.”
Derek Vayne—
No. Not anymore.
Now, his name was John Wesley.
The identity had been prepared by Uncle Aven with meticulous precision. Every document checked out. Even the resemblance was convincing—close enough that no one would look twice.
He adjusted his glasses as he boarded. His fingertips brushed against unfamiliar bone contours.
Even his cheekbones had been reshaped.
A gift from a Demon.
Flawless.
Seamless.
Almost too convenient.
Inside the bus, warm air circulated sluggishly, carrying the stale scent of fabric and rain-soaked coats. Water traced winding paths down the windows, reflecting a face that was no longer his.
His gaze sharpened—thin, knife-like—as it swept the rows.
Middle-aged men in expensive casual wear.
“So-called office workers” with watches worth more than their annual salaries.
Hardened bodyguards with restrained, dangerous auras.
Even a few familiar faces from collateral branches of old families.
(Black Pine Forest Inspection Group?
Just another gilded game for the powerful.)
He leaned back against the window, fingers tapping lightly against his knee.
—Soon.
Very soon, this farce would become… far more interesting.
?
On the rain-soaked highway, a steel convoy cut through the mist, its surface gleaming with a cold metallic sheen.
Six military transport trucks formed the vanguard.
Behind them followed white tour buses, obedient as livestock.
Compared to the previous operation, the scale had nearly doubled.
Eighty-six resource collection personnel.
Twenty Spirit Force security operatives.
And fifty civilian members of the inspection group.
In the haze, instructors and cadets from Aurora Preparatory Academy stood out—young faces tight with focus, eyes sharp despite the early hour.
The city government’s plan was simple:
Day One — advance to the edge of the Spirit Realm forest and establish camp.
Day Two — once YiChen led the main team deeper inside, the inspection group would decide for themselves whether to proceed or withdraw.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Choice, on paper.
Inside the transport vehicle, three newly assigned female members sat with the original medical unit.
Clara, short-haired and efficient, checked the emergency kit beneath the dim cabin lights.
Naomi flexed her fingers, composed as ever.
Qin Zhiyao adjusted her glasses—her scholarly air intact, now edged with resolve.
YiChen lifted his gaze from the data tablet.
Across the aisle, Elena slept lightly, leaning against Cecilia’s shoulder. Morning light traced soft shadows along her lashes. Beneath her high ponytail, a faint reddish mark lingered at the side of her neck—half-hidden, half-revealed.
?
Consciousness Sea
Shadowfang snorted, his tail striking the stone dais with a sharp crack.
“Look what you did to the girl last night.”
Shixi’s nine tails drifted lazily, curling like pale clouds.
“She probably won’t be walking very far today.”
YiChen tapped his fingers once against his knee, lips pressed thin.
—No matter what, the camping schedule had to be moved up by two hours.
?
The engines hummed low as the convoy entered the rolling fog.
Windshield wipers traced overlapping arcs.
Ahead, the forest rose like a dark tide, mist churning between the trees—
as though the entire Black Pine Forest were watching,
waiting,
for the intruders who dared approach.
————
Under the overcast sky, the convoy came to a halt at the entrance of Black Pine Forest.
Spirit energy drifted between the towering ancient trees like a thin veil of gauze, forming an invisible boundary that cleanly divided the forest from the outside world.
Combat personnel disembarked first.
Several young cadets cast nervous glances through the rain and mist, curiosity impossible to hide as their eyes flicked—again and again—toward YiChen.
Moments later, the tour bus hissed to a stop.
Members of the inspection group filed out one by one.
Cold, damp air rushed in, heavy with the scent of wet soil and pine resin. Mud clung thickly to the ground, immediately earning open frowns from those wearing limited-edition hiking boots.
“How long is this rain supposed to last?”
“This path is impossible to walk on.”
Low complaints rose in succession.
The security personnel exchanged awkward looks but still stepped forward, taking a lightweight handbag from a woman who clearly wasn’t accustomed to carrying anything herself.
YiChen stood off to the side, observing with a detached calm.
—An exemplary “civilian inspection group.”
From limited-run boots to custom windbreakers, from tailored rain gear to luxury watches flashing casually at their wrists—every detail reeked of privilege.
As long as they didn’t interfere with the operation, he had no intention of engaging.
“YiChen.”
Elena stepped up beside him, a folded map in hand. “When do we move out?”
“Once they finish fussing,” he replied quietly. “Don’t stray too far from me.”
This mission had two priorities—
Crystal sample retrieval,
and keeping her safe.
As for these pampered civilians?
As long as they didn’t cause trouble, that would be enough.
?
At the fringe of the crowd, John Wesley stood quietly.
Derek, in truth.
Dressed in plain black hiking gear, posture unremarkable, expression neutral behind gold-rimmed glasses—exactly the kind of man who vanished into a crowd without effort.
Nearby, a lavishly dressed woman complained as she shoved her luggage at a bodyguard.
Derek didn’t spare her a glance.
His eyes cut cleanly through the noise and bodies, locking onto the figure standing beside the military transport—
YiChen Caelestis.
At his side stood a woman with deep brown hair falling down her back. She was adjusting a detection device when her footing slipped slightly—
YiChen’s hand came up almost instinctively, firm at her waist.
—That look.
Focused.
Protective.
Intimate in a way that needed no words.
Derek’s fist clenched.
Nails bit into flesh.
You stand there flaunting your closeness…
while my sister died because of you.
Crack.
The sound was lost in the surrounding noise, but the violence surging through his chest was not.
The rain seemed to dull, as though someone had turned the world’s volume down.
A crow burst suddenly from the forest edge.
A chill stabbed up his spine, piercing the back of his neck at the seventh vertebra.
—Killing intent.
YiChen snapped his head around, gaze sharp as lightning as it swept the crowd.
(…He felt it?)
Derek immediately lowered his head, pretending to adjust his backpack straps.
His heartbeat thundered.
?
Demonic Whisper
Idiot!
The hiss exploded directly inside his mind.
You were seconds from exposure. If I hadn’t suppressed your killing intent—
Help me kill them, Derek snarled inwardly. Name your price.
A low, mocking laugh echoed through his consciousness.
Your target is no ordinary prey. He will not fall so easily.
Then we strike where he cannot afford to lose, Derek’s gaze cooled, serpent-like.
I want him to taste the pain of losing what he cherishes most.
The demon’s laughter deepened.
She is his weakness. Devouring her would greatly benefit me. But remember—leak your killing intent again, and this entire plan collapses.
Derek’s lips curved slightly.
“I understand.”
?
Not far away, YiChen’s brow remained faintly furrowed.
That chill just now—
was not an illusion.
