"Hey, Young Xia." A soft, rattling cough drew the little girl’s attention. She looked up from her work, her face smudged with dirt, and scowled at the old man leaning on his walking stick, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

  "What is it, you old geezer?" she huffed, her brow furrowed in concentration.

  "Can't you see I'm busy creating a stone pick!" She held up a small, sharp shard of flint, turning it over in her grimy hands, trying to find the best angle to chip away at it.

  "Ahh… what are you going to use that for? You brat," he chuckled, reaching out to smack her lightly on the back of the head.

  She pouted, rubbing the spot with a theatrical groan.

  "H-Hey! Don't hit me!" She then struck a dramatic pose, swinging the little pointy rock as if it were a legendary blade.

  "I'm going to hunt the Three-Horned Boar before I turn fifteen!"

  A hearty, rumbling laugh erupted from the old man’s chest. He reached down and affectionately patted her head, his large, calloused hand messing up her already wild pink pigtails.

  "That's impossible, Little Xia."

  The little girl groaned, her face scrunching up as she lightly hit her grandfather’s leg. "Why?! You think I can't do it? I'm not old and wrinkly like you!"

  He shook his head, his smile gentle. "No, it's just that… the Three-Horned Boar is very rare to find. It’s not that I doubt your strength, my fierce little hunter."

  He thought she would be satisfied with that answer. He was wrong.

  She grit her teeth, her small body trembling with a stubborn, unshakeable will. "NO! I want to find it!" Her eyes blazed.

  "I don't care! If it's that hard to find… then… then… I'll add three more years! Before I turn eighteen! I promise you, geezer!"

  A warm, proud smile came from Old Ying. He leaned down, his gaze meeting hers. "I'll hold you to that, Little Xia."

  That promise, made in the bright sun of a forgotten afternoon, echoed now in the cool, somber moonlight. Tears, hot and silent, streamed from Ying Xia’s eyes as she stood before her grandfather’s grave, a simple stone marker a few meters from the boisterous village feast. She gently touched the cold stone tablet, her fingers tracing the rough, carved name.

  "I-I did it… you old… geezer…" she whispered, her voice choked with a mixture of grief and triumph.

  She smiled, a wobbly, tear-streaked expression, as she poured a full cup of the fine, herb-infused wine onto the earth at the base of the stone.

  "It was even bigger than what you fought! And I killed it! Totally fair and square!"

  She chuckled, the sound a wet, broken thing as she wiped a fresh wave of tears from her face. "A-And, I learned how to sense Qi! They're like… little lights in the air! You totally should have seen me! I was so shocked!"

  She laughed again, a more genuine sound this time, as she began to move, her body re-enacting the battle in a clumsy, heartfelt dance for an audience of one.

  She explained every detail, every thought, sharing her victory with the only person whose opinion had ever truly mattered.

  "And it was like this! And then that!"

  A soft sigh escaped from the deep shadows behind a gnarled oak tree, the sound a quiet counterpoint to Ying Xia’s heartfelt, one-sided conversation.

  A small, knowing smile formed on Bi Kan’s face. "So this is where she is, huh?" he murmured to himself, scratching his head. He had been about to search for her, his mind a knot of worry, but seeing her now, her spirit so fierce and unbroken even in her grief, washed it all away.

  "She'll be alright," he concluded, a wave of profound relief settling in his chest.

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  "I got worried over nothing."

  He didn't disturb her. This was her moment, a private victory shared with a ghost. Instead, he turned his attention back to the larger, more dangerous world. With the silent grace of a predator, he scaled the nearest tree, its rough bark a familiar ladder under his calloused hands.

  He found a high perch in the canopy, a vantage point that offered a sweeping view of the forest, now bathed in the pale, ethereal light of the moon. His mission was far from over. He still needed to gather information from the villagers, to learn what they knew of the bandits' movements, their numbers, their leader.

  Then, he would have to explore the two other villages marked on his mission scroll. He had to understand the enemy before he could dismantle them.

  He looked up, his gaze sweeping over the vast, dark expanse of the wilderness. "I must be cautious," he vowed in the quiet of his own mind, "no matter what."

  Back within the sprawling, stone-walled confines of the Jade Pathways Sect, a new presence walked the familiar grounds of the Outer Disciple courtyard.

  An Inner Disciple, his robes a finer cut of deep blue, his aura a dense, powerful thing that seemed to press down on the very air, moved with a quiet, deliberate purpose.

  A small crowd of Outer Disciples, who had been engaged in clumsy, desperate duels for last-minute contribution points, froze as he passed.

  They instinctively parted, clearing a path, their faces turning away as if his mere gaze could inflict a wound.

  "W-Woah… Isn't he..?" one of them whispered, his voice a tight, nervous thing.

  His companion gulped, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple.

  "H-hey… Don't even say his name or look at him weird," he hissed, his warning born from a fresh and vivid terror. "That guy is unhinged. Did you hear that he—"

  The words were a distant, irrelevant buzz.

  The Inner Disciple ignored them, his focus absolute. The petty fears and ambitions of the Outer Sect were a world he had already left behind.

  He took the flight of stairs, his steps echoing in the sudden silence, his gaze sweeping over the numbered doors of the second-floor hallway, searching for a specific room.

  He rubbed his chin, a slow, almost thoughtful motion, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. It was not a smile of malice or contempt, but of profound, eager anticipation.

  He was looking for someone.

  his gaze sweeping over the numbered doors of the second-floor hallway, searching for a specific room. He came to a stop outside a familiar door, this was the one. He pulled something from his robe, a simple, folded letter. He opened it, his eyes scanning the contents one last time, making sure that he had written his message just right.

  "Oh? This brother greets fellow brother."

  The voice, slick with a false camaraderie, belonged to Si Gun.

  He had been lurking in the courtyard for days, a vulture waiting for news of a kill that never came.

  Seeing another Inner Disciple in this dump was unusual, and his curiosity got the better of him.

  The new Inner Disciple didn't bother to cup his fists. He simply offered a short, dismissive nod, his gaze not leaving the letter in his hand.

  Si Gun’s eyebrow twitched at the slight, but the sheer, oppressive power radiating from the other youth kept his usual arrogance in check.

  "H-hey… What're you standing at that guy's room for?" he asked, a sneer creeping into his voice. "I'll tell you, that boy's a piece of sh—"

  His words died in his throat. His eyes, which had been filled with contempt, shot wide, latching onto the letter.

  He could see the name, written in clear, deliberate strokes at the very top.

  I-It can't be…

  Does that boy have a connection with an Inner Disciple?! Not to mention… this guy looks strong. Very strong.

  Ignoring Si Gun completely, the Inner Disciple refolded the note, slipped it cleanly through the door’s mail slot, and turned to leave, his task complete.

  Si Gun’s panic overrode all etiquette. He shot forward, his hand grabbing the other disciple's shoulder.

  "H-Hey… Did you put it in the right room? Maybe you were mistaken… w-who was that note for?" Please, please don't actually be him…

  The Inner Disciple stopped. He didn't turn his head, but the pressure emanating from him intensified, a silent warning. He answered with a single, cold word.

  "Bi Kan."

  He took his leave.

  Si Gun’s hand fell from his shoulder as if it had been burned. He stood frozen for a long moment, watching the mysterious disciple descend the stairs and vanish from the courtyard.

  Then, a raw, guttural sound of pure fury escaped his lips. He spun around, his hands gripping the steel bar of the walkway railing with an intensity that made the metal groan.

  A vein on his temple popped, pulsing like a trapped thing.

  "T-Tch… Those idiots better have finished their jobs…" he growled through gritted teeth. His mind was a maelstrom of terror and rage.

  If Bi Kan had somehow survived, if he returned to find that letter…

  "If Bi Kan were to find out that it was me who sent them…"

  He gazed at the spot where the Inner Disciple had disappeared.

  He rubbed his aching head, a desperate attempt to soothe the pounding in his skull. "He may have connections that can take me out… And that Inner Disciple, even though we're the same… Rank… He's beyond me… I can tell…"

  The difference wasn't just a stage or two; it was a chasm, a difference in quality, in sheer killing intent that Si Gun had felt in his very soul.

  He smashed his fist against the stone wall, the sharp crack of bone and the burst of pain a welcome focus for his spiraling panic.

  A trickle of blood snaked down from his split knuckles.

  His eyes, burning with a new, more potent hatred, fixed on Bi Kan's door.

  "If he makes it out alive," he hissed, his voice a venomous promise to the empty room, "I'll stop at nothing to kill you, Bi Kan!"