Chapter 33: How many are there?
After the escape from Ten Tails Black Tiger,
After the perilous escape from the Ten-Tailed Black Tiger, John lay motionless for what felt like hours.
The freezing stream running beneath him numbed the pain in his limbs, but it did little to silence the dull throb of bruises and the burning sting of gashes across his back.
When the trembling in his hands subsided and his breathing stabilized, he slowly sat up in the small grove nestled deep in the valley’s shadows.
A thin mist lingered in the air, curling around moss-covered stones and dead, crooked trees like ghostly fingers.
With effort, John pulled himself to his feet. He extended his spiritual sense, letting it ripple out into the quiet valley like sonar.
"Nothing..." he whispered, tension easing from his shoulders. "Looks like that beast isn’t behind me anymore." A breath of relief escaped his lips.
He staggered forward, rubbing his aching ribs, and began to make his way deeper into the ravine.
The floor of the valley was narrow, flanked by high cliffs with jagged edges that loomed on both sides like natural prison walls.
The sky above was visible, a dome of pale daylight, but the sunlight didn’t seem to reach this place.
Even though it was midday, the ground remained shrouded in a gloomy twilight.
"This place..." he muttered as he stepped over twisted roots and brittle rocks, "It’s... off."