The border of Shadowvale was a forest of uncanny gray.

Lu Xingchen stood at its edge and looked up at the branches—not withered, but drained to a sickly gray-white, as if all life had been siphoned away. Sunlight thinned here, as if even light were reluctant to linger.

"From here on, keep your jade pendant tight." Shen Ye's voice came from beside him, edged with a rare seriousness. "At Shadowvale's margins, a light spirit wielder's senses weaken. But as long as the pendant still glows, the surrounding shadow force hasn't reached a dangerous level."

Lu Xingchen looked down. The milky white light at his chest pulsed steadily, and he felt oddly steadier for it.

"What about you?" he asked. "Does your power grow stronger here?"

Shen Ye did not answer. He raised his hand.

Lu Xingchen watched a thread of nearly transparent black breath flow from Shen Ye's fingertips, circling his hand as if alive. This was a Shen Ye he had never seen—not cold and distant, but focused and sharp, like a blade finally drawn from its sheath.

"It does," Shen Ye withdrew his hand and the black breath dissolved. "But I won't use it lightly."

"Why?"

Shen Ye looked at him, gaze complicated.

"Shadowvale holds more than me," he said. "My father's people are here too. If I show too much strength, some will learn that Shen Ye is not as insignificant as he appears."

Lu Xingchen fell silent.

He understood. In that family, hiding one's ability was a way to survive. Shen Ye had been ignored and sidelined not because he was truly incapable, but because he chose not to stand out. He chose not to stand out because he knew—show value and you would be used; show threat and you would be removed.

This man who seemed cold and remote had in fact been living carefully his entire life.

"Let's go." Shen Ye stepped first into the gray forest. "Stay close. Don't get separated."

Lu Xingchen hurried after.

The woods were quiet—only their footsteps and the occasional cry of some unknown creature. Thick fallen leaves muffled each step. The air smelled of damp mold mixed with a nameless chill.

Lu Xingchen felt the jade pendant at his chest grow warm. Its light flickered unsteadily.

"The pendant's heating up," he said quietly.

"Normal." Shen Ye did not stop. "The shadow force at Shadowvale's edge is testing you. As long as it doesn't attack, you're fine."

"Testing? How?"

The words had barely left his mouth when he saw it.

On the surrounding trees, the gray-white branches began to move. Countless fine shadows peeled away from the trunks like invisible hands, feeling their way through the air, drifting slowly toward him.

Lu Xingchen instinctively gathered a thread of light to drive them back.

"Don't move!" Shen Ye hissed.

Lu Xingchen's hand froze. The light hung in the air, unspent.

"If you attack, they'll treat you as an enemy," Shen Ye said, voice low. "But if you stay still and let them sense the light spirit aura on you, they'll retreat on their own."

"Why?"

"Because they know anyone who can maintain light spirit aura at Shadowvale's edge has powerful light spirit wielders behind them." Shen Ye's eyes glinted faintly in the dark. "They don't want trouble."

As he spoke, the shadows did retreat—like a tide withdrawing, countless fine shadows melting back into trunks, leaves, soil, vanishing without a trace.

Lu Xingchen exhaled and withdrew the light.

"How do you know all this?" he asked.

Shen Ye did not answer immediately. He turned and walked on, but Lu Xingchen noticed his pace had slowed—slow enough that Lu Xingchen could follow easily.

"When I was small, I came here alone often," Shen Ye said from ahead, very quietly, like a story from long ago. "Back then Shadowvale felt safer than home. At least here, no one looked at me like I was something wrong."

Lu Xingchen's heart stirred.

He pictured a young Shen Ye sitting alone in the gray woods, watching the moving shadows, neither speaking nor crying—just quietly staying. The image hurt.

"What about now?" Lu Xingchen asked. "Do you still come here?"

Shen Ye stopped and turned to look at him.

In the night, Shen Ye's eyes were two bottomless pools—but for a moment a faint ripple crossed them.

"Now?" The corner of his mouth twitched—mockery or bitterness, hard to tell. "Now I don't have time for sentimental nonsense."

He turned away and walked on.

"There's a stream up ahead. Cross it and we're on Shadowvale's outer edge. We camp there tonight."

Lu Xingchen caught up.

He noticed that though Shen Ye said he had no time for sentiment, his back in the darkness looked lonelier than ever. This man had noble blood and formidable power, yet lived more carefully than anyone.

And himself? A ordinary young man from a border town—but with parents waiting at home, a warm blacksmith's forge, an old yellow dog that wagged its tail when he returned.

They were people from two different worlds, walking the same road side by side.

"Shen Ye." Lu Xingchen spoke suddenly.

"Hm?"

"Someday I'll take you to Dawnlight Town," Lu Xingchen said. "We're poor, but my mother's braised pork is incredible. And my father's forge—small, but warm."

Shen Ye's steps faltered.

"…Why are you telling me this?"

"Because we're partners," Lu Xingchen said, as if it were obvious. "Partners are supposed to know each other, aren't they?"

Shen Ye was silent a long time.

Long enough that Lu Xingchen thought he would not speak again.

"…You're strange," Shen Ye said at last.

"How?"

"I don't know." His voice was low. "Just… strange."

He quickened his pace, then stopped after a few steps.

"Thank you."

The two words were so quiet the wind nearly swallowed them. But Lu Xingchen heard clearly.

He smiled, dimples appearing.

"You're welcome."

In the darkness they continued toward the unknown shadow lands. And Lu Xingchen knew that on the closed door of Shen Ye's heart, he had already chipped open the smallest crack.

Light was seeping in, bit by bit.