The pink and white petals of cherry blossoms drifted upon the spring breeze, spiraling through the air like a gentle snowfall from the heavens. They scattered across the secluded courtyard, carpeting the stone tiles in fleeting beauty. Two full months of closed-door cultivation had turned this once-quiet training ground into a place of singular will and sharpened intent.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The iron dummy trembled beneath the assault, its dark surface riddled with dozens of shallow, frost-rimmed dents. Ordinary wooden spears had long since lost their meaning—each would shatter within moments of Hanyuan's current strength. In his hands now rested a heavy shaft of blackened steel, cold and unyielding.
"Returning Ice Arc!" Hanyuan barked.
His spear swept outward in a wide, horizontal arc, pale-blue Qi surging along the weapon like a frozen tide. Halfway through the motion, his wrists twisted sharply. The force did not disperse. Instead, the Qi compressed, crossed, and erupted into a razor-edged, frozen X that slammed into the iron dummy.
Boom!
The ground shuddered. Frost spread outward in spiderweb patterns across the dummy's surface before shattering into fine ice dust.
Hanyuan exhaled slowly, his chest rising and falling. He had done it. The third technique of the Glacial Spear Art was finally his. Yet as the last wisps of Qi faded, a familiar weakness crept into his dantian—his reserves flickering like a candle at the end of its wick.
Still, these two months had not been wasted. He had thoroughly consolidated the Second Layer of Qi Refining, tempering his energy until it was dense and stable, like an ancient glacier hidden beneath the earth. His foundation was firm.
But the world beyond his courtyard walls did not pause for his progress.
Minghan's visit earlier that week lingered in his mind. The boy had arrived with a swollen jaw and a dark bruise blooming across his cheek, his usual arrogance nowhere to be found.
"Hanyuan, stay here as long as you can," Minghan had warned, touching his face with a hiss. "Xueling… she's reached the Third Layer. That Spirit Pool changed her completely. She's a monster now. Yesterday she challenged a fourteen-year-old from the branch family and put him in the infirmary within ten moves. Even the Elders can't rein in her temper anymore—but she's too talented. They let it slide."
Now, seated on a stone bench, Hanyuan wiped the sweat from his neck as a servant placed a tray before him: steaming jasmine tea and honey-glazed buns. The fragrance was soothing, but his gaze remained fixed on the distant mountains beyond the courtyard walls.
Time was running out.
If a sect recruiter from a great force—Burning Steel Valley, or one like it—passed through Spirit Springs City, Xueling would be chosen without hesitation. She would soar skyward, stepping onto a greater stage… while he remained behind, trapped in this small city, watching her back grow ever more distant.
The iron dummy did not move. It did not bleed. It did not fear.
I need the forest, Hanyuan thought, sipping the bitter tea.
That evening, warmth filled the Main Hall. The scent of braised meat and ginger hung thick in the air. Bai Feng was in high spirits after concluding a profitable trade deal, while Lin Ruo sat nearby, carefully embroidering a new robe for her son.
"Father," Hanyuan said, setting down his chopsticks. "I want to return to the Wandering Beast Forest."
Clatter.
Lin Ruo's embroidery needles slipped from her fingers and struck the table. Her face drained of color. "Absolutely not! You barely survived that bear last time! Elder Wei said the wound was mere inches from your spine!"
"Mother," Hanyuan replied calmly, bowing his head slightly, "I'm already at the Second Layer. I have techniques now. I can't master the Glacial Spear by striking a metal pole. I need to face life and death again."
"No son of mine is entering those woods alone at ten years old," Bai Feng said firmly, though his tone held no anger. "The deeper regions harbor Tier Two Spirit Beasts. Even I tread carefully there. And Elder Wei is occupied overseeing the clan's spring defense drills—he can't babysit you."
Hanyuan clenched his hands in his lap, his disappointment plain.
Bai Feng glanced at his wife, noting the hesitation in her eyes, then back at his son's unyielding expression. After a long moment, he sighed.
"I won't let you go alone," Bai Feng said at last. "But I won't cripple your growth either. A caravan from the Li Clan will depart in three days, heading toward the Northern Pass. They've hired independent mercenaries to guard them through the forest outskirts."
Hanyuan's head snapped up, his eyes shining.
"I'll pull some strings," Bai Feng continued. "You'll join them as a junior trainee. You stay with the group, obey the mercenary captain, and hunt only the stragglers they drive out. If you agree to that, I'll allow it."
"I promise!" Hanyuan exclaimed, nearly leaping from his seat.
Bai Feng laughed. "Good. But if I hear you went off on a solo hunt for a Tiger-Cat or something equally foolish, you'll be grounded until you're twenty. Understood?"
"Understood, Father!" Hanyuan bowed deeply.
As he straightened, his blood surged with anticipation
The morning air at the Northern Gate was crisp, laced with the mingled scents of horsehide, sawdust, and travel grease. Frost still clung to the shadows of the stone walls as Hanyuan stood before a long line of carriages, his blackened steel spear wrapped in sturdy linen and slung across his back.
Just as his father had said, the Li Clan caravan was a bustling, disciplined affair. Eight heavy carriages stood in formation, each piled high with silks, refined ores, and sacks of spirit grain. The horses pulling them were broad-chested and steady-eyed, clearly bred for endurance rather than speed.
Scattered throughout the group were fifteen mercenaries.
Their armor was mismatched and scarred, their weapons nicked and dulled at the edges. These were not guards who relied on polished techniques or clan backing—they were survivors, men and women who lived with one foot in the grave and the other pressing forward.
Hanyuan's gaze drifted to the front of the caravan.
There, a mountain of a man stood speaking with the lead merchant. His short brown hair was caked with dust, and a thick beard framed a face carved by wind and hardship. Slung across his back was a massive saber nearly as wide as Hanyuan's torso. The Qi around him was heavy and oppressive.
Zhang Hu.Sixth Layer of Qi Refining.
As if sensing his gaze, the mercenary captain turned. His sharp eyes swept over Hanyuan from head to toe.
"Brat," Zhang Hu grunted, his voice like stones grinding together. "You must be the Bai brat. Second Layer at your age… tsk. Clan disciples really do live soft lives."
He leaned forward slightly, his aura pressing down like a warning.
"But listen well. In the forest, status is just a fancy word for first to be eaten. You follow my orders, or I'll tie you to a tree and leave you for the wolves. Clear?"
"I will be in your care, Captain Hu," Hanyuan replied, bowing with the practiced grace of a clan noble. His posture was respectful.
Before Zhang Hu could respond, a teasing voice cut in.
"Brother Hu, he's only a child! Don't scare him half to death."
A woman in her thirties sauntered over, clad in fitted leather light armor. Two daggers rested easily at her hips, their hilts worn smooth by years of use. A mischievous glint danced in her eyes as she reached out and patted Hanyuan on the head.
"Don't mind his tone, little Hanyuan. Our captain is a grouch—and terribly shy around new people," she giggled.
Zhang Hu stiffened. A faint flush crept up his weathered ears.
"Shen Yumei!" he roared. "Enough nonsense!"
He threw his hands up and stalked away. "Check the hitches! I want us moving before the sun climbs a finger-width higher!"
Shen Yumei laughed freely before turning back to Hanyuan. "I'm Yumei. Call me Aunt Yumei. I'll be watching the rear of the caravan. If you get scared, just look for the woman with the prettiest daggers."
"Thank you, Aunt Yumei," Hanyuan said earnestly.
A groom soon led over a sturdy brown pony, compact but well-muscled. Hanyuan mounted with ease and guided it to a position beside the third carriage.
"Move out!" Zhang Hu bellowed.
The caravan lurched into motion. Wooden wheels creaked and groaned as they rolled away from the safety of Spirit Springs City, the walls slowly shrinking behind them.
For the first few hours, the road was wide and paved with gravel. Hanyuan quietly observed the mercenaries. None of them relaxed. They rode in a loose but deliberate formation, overlapping fields of vision, eyes constantly sweeping the roadside and distant tree line.
As mid-afternoon approached, the road began to narrow.
The air grew cooler. Damp earth and rotting leaves replaced the dry scent of dust. Towering, gnarled trees rose on either side like ancient sentinels, their thick canopies knitting together overhead, dimming the sunlight into scattered emerald shards.
"Stay sharp!" Zhang Hu's voice carried from the front. "We're entering the forest outskirts. Any beast that comes within ten yards of the horses dies. Hanyuan—stay near the center unless I say otherwise."
Hanyuan nodded, his heart pounding—not with fear, but with electric anticipation.
The Qi here was different.
It was thicker. Wilder. Aggressive.
Not the thin, obedient energy of the city, but something untamed, pressing in from all directions like an unseen tide.
Crack.
A branch snapped within the dense brush to the right—too loud, too deliberate to be a bird or small animal.
His hand reached back, ripping the linen from his spear. Blackened steel gleamed coldly beneath the mottled green light. Beside him, he heard a low chuckle.
"Fast on the draw," Aunt Yumei murmured, a dagger sliding soundlessly into her palm. "Let's see if those clan teachers taught you how to aim at something that bites back."
From the shadows of the ferns, three pairs of crimson eyes flickered to life.
A low, wet growl rolled through the forest, thick with hunger. The horses of the lead carriage whinnied and stamped, their terror rippling through the caravan.
Hanyuan tightened his grip on the spear, Qi beginning to circulate.