NOVEL WEB Chapter 368: An Accord
A pause.
The owl blinked—once, very slowly.
"Understanding leads to danger. Curiosity leads to bindings."
The words pressed against his skull like invisible weight.
But Han Yu didn't retreat. "Are you the one causing the illusions in the forest?"
The owl turned its head slightly, now watching him not with predator's eyes—but with depth. As if seeing past the body he wore and into what lay beneath.
"They dream because they walk blind. You… do not."
His soul quivered faintly. Something in those words vibrated against the roots of his cultivation.
He swallowed. "What does that mean?"
"You have swallowed the breath of a deeper world. You see as the dead once saw. That which walks with no name does not need permission to be seen."
Han Yu's mind reeled, trying to parse meaning from the cryptic phrasing. His instincts screamed that there was meaning—that every word mattered, but none would be understood immediately.
He asked one last question. "Then why are you watching us?"
The owl's head twisted back to face the camp.
"Because they are watched by many. And not all who dream do so peacefully."
With that, it suddenly beat its wings.
There was no gust. No force. No burst of qi.
Just a shimmer in the air—and it was gone.
Vanished, as though it had never existed.
Han Yu stood there for several seconds longer, staring at the empty branch. The silence around him resumed. Slowly, the wind returned, rustling the leaves once more.
He turned back toward the camp, his thoughts a whirlwind.
Who—or what—was that owl?
And more importantly…
Who else was watching?
He needed answers.
But for now, all he could do was return.
Han Yu returned to the camp with slow, measured steps, his expression unreadable beneath the moonlight.
The white owl's words still echoed in his mind, like a riddle etched into his bones.
"Because they are watched by many. And not all who dream do so peacefully."
It was gone now, vanished without a trace. And in its absence, a strange silence had fallen over the camp—not eerie, but relieving.
He passed by resting disciples as he entered the clearing. Some sat upright, others curled in their bedrolls, and many simply sprawled wherever they had collapsed. The air of dread that had been gnawing at their minds for the last two nights was gone.
No more sudden shrieks.
No crying in sleep.
No hallucinations.
It was as if the pressure had been lifted the moment the owl left.
Han Yu didn't need confirmation. He knew now—the owl had been behind it all.
And yet, the reason for it still danced beyond his understanding.
The Fourth Day...
The next morning came without any further incident. Disciples rose cautiously, some blinking blearily, others murmuring with tentative relief.
They marched again shortly after dawn.
This time, the difference was noticeable.
The fatigue hadn't entirely vanished—there was still a residual heaviness, a dragging weariness in the limbs and hearts of the group—but it was no longer crippling. They moved as a proper force again, maintaining pace for nearly sixteen hours before the elders called for another halt.
The sun had long dipped past the canopy by the time they set up camp.
Though a few disciples grumbled, most accepted it with weary gratitude. No one wanted to push into the night again, even if the hallucinations had ceased.
Still, concern lingered.
Several elders gathered away from the main campfires, voices low.
Han Yu didn't need to eavesdrop to guess their topic.
They knew this part of the forest was dangerous.
Everyone did.
The "Forest of the White Marble Lady" was infamous for its effects on the mind, yet never had it been this bad. Hallucinations were rare and scattered under normal circumstances—not widespread and persistent for days.
One elder shook his head in frustration. Another mentioned the longer alternate route they'd considered—the one that looped around the forest. Perhaps, in hindsight, they should've taken it.
But what was done, was done.
The peak heads, as always, remained silent. Even when asked directly, they only offered cryptic, unhelpful statements—if they even spoke at all.
Han Yu, seated apart with Chitterfang curled up beside him, watched the camp quietly. The firelight danced on his face, but his thoughts were far elsewhere.
He could feel it.
The owl was back.
It was past midnight when Chitterfang returned, padding back through the brush like a shadow. The rat scampered up Han Yu's leg and onto his shoulder, whispering into his ear in that strange way only soul-bound creatures could.
"It's there again. Same place."
Han Yu nodded without a word and rose.
This time, as he approached the clearing where the owl had perched before, the air felt different. Charged.
And sure enough, as soon as he stepped within sight, the owl turned its head toward him with an almost expectant motion.
Its voice entered his mind before he could speak.
"You approach me once more, human. This is an anomaly."
Han Yu stepped closer, emboldened by the lack of hostility.
"I want to understand," he said. "Why are you doing this to us?"
A beat of silence.
Then:
"It is an accord."
That word. Again, the sense of ancient weight behind it.
Han Yu furrowed his brows. "What kind of accord?" He wondered with a hundred questions jumping in his mind.
The owl's black eyes reflected no light. Its spiral horns gave it the outline of something far older than the forest itself.
"Long ago," the owl said, "a pact was made. All who pass through this forest pay a price. In return, they are given protection."
Han Yu's voice dropped to a whisper. "Protection… from what?"
The owl's head tilted slightly, feathers rustling as it did.
"From what else watches."
Han Yu felt a chill roll across his spine.
"Other beasts?"
"Other beings. Malevolent. Starved. Hungering not for flesh, but for presence." The owl blinked slowly. "As long as I watch, they do not act. This is the accord."