Dawn arrived wrapped in fog so thick Joseph could barely see his own outstretched hand. The Mist Path lived up to its name—a winding trail disappearing into swirling gray vapor, the forest beyond reduced to dark silhouettes. His breath came in short clouds as he adjusted the borrowed satchel across his chest, the straps digging into his shoulders.
Lin Yue stood motionless beside him at the trailhead, her profile sharp against the gloom. She'd tied her hair back severely, exposing the pale scar along her temple Joseph hadn't noticed before. Her fingers flexed around her sword hilt in a rhythmic pattern—once, twice, thrice—like she was counting heartbeats.
"You're late," she said without turning.
Joseph rubbed sleep from his eyes. "The sun isn't even—"
"Precisely." She finally looked at him, her dark eyes reflecting the mist like polished stones. "We should have left an hour ago."
A gong sounded from the sect behind them, deep and resonant. The trial had officially begun.
Lin Yue set off without another word, her boots silent on the damp earth. Joseph scrambled to follow, nearly tripping over a root already slick with morning dew. The forest swallowed them whole, the path narrowing to a faint impression in the undergrowth.
The air smelled different here—earthy and sweet with decay, undercut by something metallic. Joseph's skin prickled. It reminded him of the hospital from his old life, that sterile sharpness beneath the antiseptic.
"You feel it too." Lin Yue's voice was barely audible.
Joseph blinked. "Feel what?"
She didn't answer, just quickened her pace.
****
The Deeper Woods
Two hours in, the mist thickened until Joseph could only track Lin Yue by the occasional flash of her sleeve ahead. Strange sounds echoed through the trees—not quite animal, not quite human. Once, he swore he heard whispering from the bushes, the words dissolving before he could catch them.
A root snagged his ankle.
Joseph crashed face-first into the mud, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. His sword skittered away into the fog. For one terrifying moment, the world reduced to damp earth and his own frantic heartbeat.
Then—cold steel at his throat.
Lin Yue stood over him, her real sword drawn for the first time since they'd met. The blade gleamed oddly in the diffused light, its edge hovering a hair's breadth from his Adam's apple. Her expression was unreadable.
"Prove you're Wei Shen," she demanded.
Joseph's mouth went dry. The jade amulet Ping An had given him burned against his chest beneath his robes. "What?"
"Three weeks ago," Lin Yue said slowly, "during monsoon drills. What did you say to me when I slipped on the north bridge?"
Joseph's mind raced. He had no memories of Wei Shen's life beyond what he'd pieced together these past days. The sword pressed closer.
"I—"
A twig snapped in the forest.
Lin Yue's head whipped around. Her sword arm didn't waver, but her eyes widened fractionally. Joseph followed her gaze.
Between the trees, something moved.
Not an animal. Not a person. A shifting darkness that seemed to absorb the mist around it, forming a silhouette too tall, too thin. The whispering sounds returned, now clearly coming from that direction.
Joseph's fingers inched toward his fallen sword.
Lin Yue made a small, choked noise. The first real emotion he'd heard from her—fear.
The thing took a step forward.
****
The Serpent's Dance
Joseph moved without thinking. He grabbed his sword and rolled, sweeping Lin Yue's legs out from under her just as the creature lunged. They hit the ground together as something razor-sharp whistled through the space where her neck had been.
The impact knocked Lin Yue's sword from her grip. She recovered faster than Joseph could blink, snatching a dagger from her boot as she sprang upright.
"Behind me," she ordered, though her voice shook slightly.
The mist parted.
The serpent was easily twice Joseph's height when it reared up, its scales shimmering between red and green like oil on water. Its eyes were all wrong—too round, too human, the pupils slit vertically like a cat's. Venom dripped from curved fangs as long as Joseph's forearm.
Lin Yue's dagger looked pitifully small.
"Don't move," she breathed. "It tracks motion."
Joseph's fingers tightened around his wooden sword. Useless. The amulet against his chest grew hotter, almost painful.
The serpent struck.
Lin Yue twisted aside with impossible grace, her dagger scoring a thin line along the creature's flank. Black blood welled up, sizzling where it hit the ground. The serpent hissed—a sound that vibrated in Joseph's bones—and coiled for another attack.
Joseph saw the opening before Lin Yue did.
As the serpent lunged again, he brought his practice sword down with every ounce of strength left in his battered arms. The wood connected just behind the creature's skull with a sickening crack.
The serpent screamed.
Not a hiss—a full-throated, human scream that echoed through the trees. Birds erupted from the canopy as the creature thrashed, its tail whipping dangerously close to Joseph's head.
Lin Yue didn't hesitate. Her dagger flashed once, twice, finding gaps between scales with surgical precision. Black blood sprayed across her face, but her expression never changed.
The serpent collapsed, its massive body convulsing before going still.
Silence.
Joseph's arms trembled violently. His sword had split down the middle, rendered useless.
Lin Yue wiped her dagger clean on the grass before turning to him. Blood streaked her cheek like war paint.
"You're not Wei Shen," she said quietly.
Joseph opened his mouth to deny it, but the words died when she continued:
"But you fight like him."
She sheathed her dagger and walked past him toward a faint glow in the underbrush—their spirit blossom, its petals pulsing softly amid the carnage.
****
The Return
The journey back passed in a haze. Joseph's body ached in places he didn't know could ache. The amulet had cooled, but he caught Lin Yue glancing at his chest more than once.
They found the first trail marker just as the mist began lifting. The sect's rooftops appeared in the distance, their familiar curves suddenly comforting.
Lin Yue stopped abruptly.
"Whatever you are," she said without looking at him, "keep pretending. For both our sakes."
Joseph swallowed hard. "Why help me?"
She touched the scar on her temple absently. "Let's just say I owe Wei Shen. And now I owe you."
Before he could respond, shouts came from up the path. Han Bo and his partner emerged from the trees, their robes torn but triumphant. Han's eyes lit up when he saw them.
"You're alive!" He jogged over, grinning. "We won, by the way. Found two blossoms before noon."
Lin Yue rolled her eyes and kept walking.
Han Bo fell into step beside Joseph, lowering his voice. "So? How bad was it?"
Joseph glanced at Lin Yue's retreating back, then at the broken sword still clutched in his hand.
"Ask me tomorrow," he said. "If I'm still here."
Han Bo laughed like it was a joke.
Joseph didn't correct him.