After days of arduous travel, led by Silver, Wenwu left the Bansfaser Empire and arrived at the famed Forest of Hope on the Baye Continent.

"Master, the elves live in the Forest of Hope, but I don’t know exactly where," Silver said.

"I feel… over there."

Wenwu pointed in a direction.

"Why?"

"A feeling."

"Master, are you sure? Going the wrong way wastes time," Silver warned.

"No rush. Let’s go."

Wenwu spurred his horse forward.

"Hey, Silver, the fog’s thickening. Should I change direction?"

Deeper in the forest, the mist grew denser. Wenwu worried about getting lost.

"No, Master. Keep going. Elves shun outsiders—they create fog to drive them away. Your path might be right."

Wenwu pressed on.

After a while, the fog lifted. A paradise unfolded: exquisite treehouses and wooden huts dotted the landscape.

Wenwu dismounted and entered the elven village with Silver.

Passing elves nodded warmly. True to Desmona’s words, they favored those rich in Essence Energy—but eyed Silver warily.

"Silver, the Elvenfolk aren’t as unfriendly as you said."

"I only heard rumors. Maybe it’s your Essence Energy. This is my first time here."

Silver gazed around like he’d found a new world.

"Enough sightseeing. Time to work."

Wenwu approached a young elven girl sitting under a tree, lost in thought.

"Little sister, want to play outside?"

Seeing Wenwu, she jumped up excitedly. "Can you take me out?"

"Of course."

Guilt stabbed Wenwu—he felt like a child-snatcher.

"Let’s hurry! Mom will stop us if she finds out."

She was eager.

"But first, where do elves bury their dead?"

The girl hesitated.

"I had an elven friend here. He passed from illness. I wish to pay respects. Will you guide me?"

Wenwu spun a tale to get his way.

"An outsider reaching our village speaks truth. I’ll show you—but promise to take me out after."

"I swear."

Relieved she’d agreed, Wenwu followed her lead.

The girl flitted ahead lightly. Wenwu and Silver trailed behind.

"Master, deceiving a child? Disgraceful," Silver muttered.

"Tactical necessity," Wenwu snapped.

They cut through thick fog.

"Are elves buried outside the village?" Wenwu asked.

"Yes. Their Essence Energy lingers after death, guarding us. We’re here."

The graveyard held no tombstones—just a few small flowers.

Wenwu bowed shallowly at a grave. *An apology before the dig*, he thought.

"Ah!"

As he bowed, the girl screamed.

"Brother, thanks! We’ve wandered this fog for days. You delivered her right to us."

Wenwu whirled. Three men stuffed the struggling girl into a sack. A fourth, knife in hand, grinned at him.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"Hunters Guild. Business. Name your price for her."

"You—"

Wenwu started forward, but Silver held him back. "Master, don’t provoke them. We got what we needed. Take the coin and go."

Reluctantly, Wenwu glared. "Five hundred gold coins."

"Five hundred?" The man blinked. Silver stiffened.

"Too steep?" Wenwu had no clue about prices.

"Done! I like quick deals."

"Master, elves sell for two thousand—good ones, five thousand. You undershot," Silver whispered.

The man tossed a coin pouch. "Six hundred. Extra hundred for friendship. Call me Crocodile next time. Let’s move."

They vanished with the sack, the girl’s cries fading: "Help me!"

"Master. Time to work," Silver urged.

"Right."

"Brother… help me!"

Brother…

"Let go of that girl!"