The Unlucky Gadin Jennings

Inside, all the transcendents were human. It seemed as though they were cut off from the world, entirely isolated with no contact with the outside.

In a remote mountain range lay a vast tribe of tens of thousands.

Among them was a young man with red lips and white teeth, full of life. At times, he'd catch sparrows; other times, he'd simply lie in the sun, hands behind his head, gazing skyward in deep thought—carefree. 

This young man had vanished the moment Gadin Jennings attempted to spy on him, as if a powerful force had intervened to prevent it.

"Lord Gadin…"

"Do you think you can hide this from me?"

Gadin shook his head. 

In the past, he'd mastered the hibernation better than anyone, even Kreig Jordahl. Nothing could escape his sight—not even a hidden presence.

"This has nothing to do with cultivation," he murmured.

"Even ants fight to survive," he said slowly, his figure solitary.