He stood among the corpses of four traveling warriors, their coin pouches already stripped, weapons thrown into the dirt. Blood stained his rough clothes, and his shoulder ached where one of them had clipped him with a saber.
"Fancy bastards," he muttered, spitting to the side. "Should've hired more guards."
He crouched beside the youngest one—a scholar-looking type with soft hands and expensive boots. "What's a man like you doing out here?"
He rifled through the man's satchel and blinked. Inside were items he didn't recognize: a small jade bottle, a tightly rolled scroll with strange characters, a dusty black banner wrapped in old cloth, a plain leather-bound book—
—and a small drawstring pouch that clinked when he shook it.
Curious, he opened it and found ten smooth stones, each glowing faintly with a cool, inner light.
He frowned. "Jewels?" he guessed. "No... not cut right. Maybe some rich-boy gambling chips."
He shrugged and pocketed the pouch. "They'll fetch silver either way."
Next, he eyed the jade bottle. He shook it. Two round pills rolled inside.
"Medicine?" he guessed. "Could be worth silver at least."
The scroll was trickier. He unfurled it and scowled at the odd diagrams and words written in some ancient script. He couldn't read it.
He threw it aside. "Looks like trash from a failed sect."
The banner felt cold, even through the cloth. It made his skin crawl, so he shoved it into his sack without unwrapping it.
Last was the book. Its cover read:
> A Beginner's Biography of Cultivation
He squinted at the title, lips twisting. "Cultivation...?"
He'd heard of that word before, in tavern whispers and old wives' tales. Supposedly, it was something immortals did in the legends—drawing power from the heavens, flying on swords, living for centuries.
"Nonsense," he snorted. Still, he flipped it open. The first line caught his eye:
> This manual was prepared for future generations. May the path of cultivation rise again.
He kept reading. Spirit roots. Spirit stones. Qi. Dantian. Realms with names like "Qi Refining" and "Golden Core."
"Sounds like rich man fantasy," he muttered. But there was a strange curiosity stirring in him.
Another line made him pause:
> To test your Spirit Root, simply place your hand on this page and push Qi into it. A few spirit stones may help draw it out if your root is weak.
He scoffed. "Qi, huh? As if I've got any of that." Still, he glanced at the pouch of glowing stones again.
He pressed his palm to the page.
Nothing happened.
"Tch. Figured."
He leaned back against the cave wall, tossing the book beside his pack. The sun was setting beyond the mist-covered hills. Wolves would be howling soon, but he wasn't worried.
He'd eaten well, killed clean, and looted enough to last him through the next town.
But something strange lingered in his sack—something whispering faintly from inside the cloth-wrapped banner.
He didn't notice it.
Not yet.