With the immediate loot secured, Han Yu turned toward the outpost.
It was a modest wooden structure nestled into the stone wall of the caldera—likely meant as a temporary base for monitoring and resting, not long-term residence. He stepped inside cautiously, glaive ready.
No movement. No traps. Just silence and the faint creaking of wooden beams in the heat.
Inside, he was greeted with far more than he expected. Shelves stacked with supplies—clay jugs of water, baskets of dried grains and fruit, sealed pill jars, and bundles of gauze and salve. A wooden chest under one of the tables held a neatly folded set of spare robes, clearly uniforms for Mist Eye disciples.
It was clear the Mist Eye Sect had prepared well for this mission. They had all the supplies they might need in a place including plenty of water to drink, Spare clothes to change in case they were dirty or burned, as well as burn medicines and ointments to deal with physical injuries.
But what caught Han Yu’s eye the most were the scrolls.
He skimmed the nearest pile quickly. Most were mundane—reports on patrol routes, bestiary notes on caldera beasts, and supply records—but a few were more intriguing.
His eyes narrowed as he read phrases like:
"Caldera Mission – Secondary Expedition Team"
"Preliminary Survey Results: Possibility of Hidden Altar beneath the magma crust."
"Unusual spiritual activity around the southeastern ridge, correlating with map fragment recovered from..."
Han Yu didn’t waste another second.
He swept all the scrolls and documents into an empty satchel, making sure none were left behind. He’d read them later, somewhere far safer.
He then turned to the supplies. His stomach growled at the sight of food. Without formality, he tore into a dried meat skewer and chased it with water straight from the jug. After a few more bites and a bun, he began packing—standard issue grain balls, jerky, and dried fruits wrapped in cloth, along with a second waterskin.
From the chest, he retrieved the clean robes and quickly changed.
He stripped off his ruined garments, the fabric clinging to burns and blood. The cool air stung his raw skin as he applied burn medicine from one of the clay jars. It hissed and bubbled upon contact, but it dulled the pain enough to function.
The Healing medicines that the Mist Eye Sect had prepared for burns was rather good and it was possible that they had it experienced many injuries from this area so had brought a lot of burn salves and more.
Han Yu slathered it thickly over his chest, arms, legs, and even his face, which was red and half-peeled from the earlier escape. The pills from earlier had helped with the worst, but regenerating the skin would still take days.
With the medicine applied though, the stinging reduced by a lot and a cooling sensation soon began to spread on his body after a few minutes.
Bandages followed. He wrapped himself up thoroughly, layer upon layer of cloth over salved skin.
He resembled a mummy by the end of it, but at least the pain was manageable.
The bandages weren’t too tight, so he didn’t have issues moving around. He had made sure of it or he reckoned he might get caught off guard if a battle happened in this state. Being injured and restricted on top of it would result in a very bad outcome for him.
Thus he made sure to keep his joints free at least, so that he could move smoothly.
Finally, he slipped on the inner robes—plain white—and layered the Mist Eye Sect robes over them. Dark green with black trim and the Mist Eye insignia stitched on the chest.
The Mist Eye sect seemed to have quite a few different types of robes, which was probably due to their different ranks and designation. Han Yu simply picked the robes which seemed the most common.
After all, it would be hard to pretended to be someone of a high rank.
He then found a thin linen head wrap and bound it tightly around his head, hiding his features and further shielding the raw, blistered skin on his face. Only his eyes remained uncovered, gleaming red from exhaustion and burn-induced irritation.
He had seen a few other Mist Eye Sect disciples go around too, so it wouldn’t be out of the norm.
Now, he could blend in—or at least pass for a disciple at a distance. If needed, he could remove the sect robe and claim to be a wandering cultivator.
Versatility. Always leave yourself an out.
With everything prepared, Han Yu turned back to the bodies.
He dragged them one by one into the outpost—gritting his teeth with every pull. Each body left a smear of blood behind, but that didn’t matter. He piled them against the far wall, as if they had been resting indoors when the fire struck.
He then found a clay jug of lamp oil and began dousing the interior—over the bodies, the shelves, the walls, everything. The smell was sharp, pungent, and slightly dizzying.
Satisfied, he knotted a strip of cloth into a long makeshift fuse, trailing it outside through a cracked window.
He stood at the edge, looking back once more at the outpost.
Then, with flint and steel, he struck a spark.
The flame caught quickly, crawling along the oiled cloth like a serpent of fire.
Han Yu didn’t wait to admire his handiwork.
His gait was awkward, still sore, but adrenaline carried him.
A few minutes later, as he crouched behind a ridge of scorched rock, a whoosh filled the air, followed by a loud crack as flames burst from the outpost.
Fire roared and smoke billowed.
Han Yu narrowed his eyes.
"Hopefully... they’ll think some fire beast got out and torched the place," he murmured.
A lie born in fire to cover the truth. One of many, he suspected, he’d have to tell before this mission was over.
He turned away from the blaze, face hidden under bandages and ash.
And walked deeper into the night.