Re-birth: The Beginning after the End - Chapter 137

Chapter 137: HIDE & SEEK PART 3
After Li Wei’s capture, Li Hao’s techniques transformed from playful chaos into desperate artistry. His Phantom Step Concealment splintered into more fragments than ever before—twelve, twenty, thirty versions of himself, each one carrying a different False Core signature. The forest trembled with his scattered energy as he layered Illusory Presence over Permission Barriers over Dimensional Shifts, creating a tapestry of deception so complex it bordered on madness.

“Can’t catch what isn’t real!” his voice echoed from multiple directions, each echo protected by a different variation of the Silent Scroll Method. He cycled through techniques with increasing speed—appearing by the stream through a Dimensional Shift, leaving a Soul Reflection Barrier near the ancient oak, his Empty Presence Technique making each location seem equally valid and invalid.

Li Hua sensed his growing desperation. Even in her state of near-nonexistence, maintained through the perfect stillness of the Still Lake Method, she could feel how the realm responded to his frenzied layering of techniques. The more he tried to be unpredictable, the more pattern emerged in his very attempt to avoid pattern.

The forest began to synchronize with his chaos—not to aid him, but to reveal him. Each technique he employed created its own betrayal in the fabric of reality. When he shattered his Phantom Step into twelve echoes, twelve branches would crack in response, marking each false position with natural movement. His attempts at Dimensional Shift backfired as he tried to exist in three spaces at once; the shadows themselves betrayed him, stretching in impossible directions that pointed to his true location. Even the mist became his enemy, swirling in telling patterns that matched the pulse of his False Cores.

Most damning of all were his Permission Barriers, meant to deny others access to his presence. Instead of hiding him, they created subtle ripples in the realm’s fabric—like stones dropped in still water, each ripple marking another failed attempt at concealment. Li Hao noticed too late that his techniques had become a dance, and the forest had learned the steps.

A snap of energy cut through his web of deceptions—

He spun mid-leap, his multiple presences whirling like autumn leaves, each one protected by a different combination of techniques. But the very complexity of his defense had become his undoing.

“You—! That’s not fair!” His voice carried both frustration and dawning understanding as Grandmaster Yu materialized before him, catching him between two Dimensional Shifts.

“You hid well,” Grandmaster Yu’s deep chuckle held genuine appreciation. “But your frustration betrays you. Even chaos, when born of technique rather than nature, creates its own kind of pattern.”

Li Hao landed on a branch, his cascade of techniques finally collapsing into a single, solid form. “I thought… if I could just layer enough methods, make them unpredictable enough…”

“Unpredictability itself becomes predictable,” Grandmaster Yu said gently, “when it’s achieved through technique rather than true formlessness.”

Across the forest, Li Hua remained perfectly still, watching her brother’s defeat through the lens of the Still Lake Method. But where before she had maintained each technique separately, now they began to dissolve into something more fundamental. She felt a moment’s grief for Li Hao’s capture, but even that emotion she let flow through her and into the forest, becoming just another whisper in the endless conversation between tree and wind and shadow.

The sixth day brought a fundamental shift. She felt it in the way the forest’s breath changed—not just through her Breath of the World technique, but through her entire being. The spaces between trees seemed to contract and expand with unnatural rhythm, making even the Dimensional Shift feel crude and artificial. This was no longer about skillfully executing techniques—it was about the realm itself deciding whether to accept or reject her.

The forest moved against her with increasing intensity. Ancient roots pulled up from centuries-old resting places, disrupting her Permission Barriers. The mist thickened and vanished unpredictably, challenging her Empty Presence Technique. Even her perfectly maintained False Cores began to feel like masks too thin to wear.

Grandmaster Yu wasn’t just searching anymore—he was conducting the realm like a master musician, making the very fabric of reality shift to his will.

But where her brothers had responded by layering technique upon technique, Li Hua made a different choice.

She stopped trying to maintain any technique at all.

When a branch moved, she didn’t activate Phantom Step to dodge—she let her form flow with it, becoming part of its movement. When the mist twisted in impossible directions, she didn’t reinforce her Illusory Presence—she became another curl in its dance. When shadows deepened, she didn’t strengthen her Silent Scroll Method—she joined their endless play of light and dark.

The transition was both easier and more difficult than any technique she’d learned. It required no energy, no calculation, no conscious layering of methods. Instead, it demanded something far more challenging: the complete surrender of all technique, all method, all conscious effort at concealment.

The forest’s attempts to reject her gradually changed. The hostile movements became curious, then accepting. The realm wasn’t fighting against her techniques anymore—it was testing her ability to exist without them.

Hours stretched into eternity. Time lost meaning as Li Hua drifted through states of being she hadn’t known were possible. She wasn’t the girl who had mastered eight different concealment techniques anymore. She wasn’t even sure she was still herself.

She had become a sigh between heartbeats. A thought between moments. A dream the forest was having about itself.

And somewhere in that transformation, she understood what her brothers’ techniques had failed to grasp—the realm wasn’t a place to hide in using sophisticated methods.

It was a state of being to become.

The world was quiet.

Then—the silence changed.

Li Hua felt it first as a ripple in the fabric of the realm, not through any technique but through her very being. This wasn’t a probe seeking past her Permission Barrier, or a disturbance testing her Still Lake Method. Grandmaster Yu wasn’t attempting to unravel her techniques—he was witnessing what she had become.

She could sense his presence now, not as a hunter tracking her False Cores or testing her Empty Presence, but as part of the same consciousness she had merged with. The Dimensional Shift was no longer necessary—she existed in all spaces because she was the space itself. The Breath of the World had become redundant—she was the world’s breath.

She didn’t hear him approach through her Phantom Step awareness. She didn’t feel him move past her Soul Reflection Barriers. She didn’t see him appear through her Illusory Presence.

But she knew.

And then, just as naturally as dew forming on morning leaves, he was beside her. Not stepping through techniques, not penetrating defenses—simply existing in the same space she occupied, as if he had always been there. His presence felt different now, more like the forest itself than the formidable seeker who had stripped away her brothers’ techniques.

His voice, when it came, carried the soft wonder of discovery. “Impressive.”

Li Hua didn’t startle. Didn’t engage defensive techniques. Didn’t shift to a new pattern of concealment. Such reactions belonged to a different kind of existence than what she had become. Instead, she let her awareness include him, the way a pond accepts a falling leaf.

“You found me,” she murmured, her voice carrying the same quality as wind through ancient branches.

A pause stretched between them, rich with understanding.

“Yes,” Grandmaster Yu admitted, and for the first time since the hunt began, she heard something new in his voice—not just pride, but recognition. “But not in the way I expected. You’ve gone beyond the techniques, beyond the methods.”

He studied her with eyes that seemed to see beyond physical form. “You did not simply hide,” he continued, his words carrying the weight of ancient knowledge. “You became part of the very world I sought you in. Even the realm itself cannot distinguish where you end and it begins.”

He tilted his head, observing how the mist curled around her—not hiding her through technique, but expressing her essence. “That is a rare thing, child. The techniques are meant to lead to this understanding, but few ever make the leap from doing to being.”

Li Hua held his gaze, her mind as calm as a forest pool. She had not lost this game of hide and seek.

She had transcended its very purpose.

Grandmaster Yu’s smile carried centuries of wisdom. “Come,” he said, stepping back into the mist. “Your brothers are waiting.”