The air in Heavenly Dragon Sect was crisp with the bite of late autumn. Maples along the stone paths had already turned red, and the steady fall of leaves whispered that another season was slipping away. Li Wei stood at the edge of the courtyard, his pack strapped to his back, jade token secured at his waist. The mission scroll rested inside his sleeve, its seal unbroken. The moment he tore it open, the path north would begin.
"Heading out again, are you?"
The voice drew his attention. Liang Fei approached, his steps easy, hands tucked into his sleeves. His expression carried the same cool confidence he had worn back during the Xianglong Tournament, though the edges were tempered now by the grind of sect life.
"You've been busy," Liang Fei continued, eyeing the worn scuffs on Li Wei's boots and the faint line of bandages peeking beneath his sleeve. "Word is you're already climbing past Rank 150. The rest of our Xianglong batch can't stop talking about it."
Li Wei gave a faint nod. "And the others?"
Liang Fei's mouth curved in a half-smile. "Jian Tao has become friends with other scions from different kingdoms, don't know much except that hes been pushing for peak Qi Refinement recently. Xu Feng's after reaching his limit on the Stele has been venturing out on lots of solo missions, his pride doesn't allow him to accept others help. Finally, Shen Mu's been taking fights, learning from each loss and victory. They're all moving forward, but none of them burn like you do."
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "They say you fight as though time itself is at your throat."
"Because it is," Li Wei replied. His voice was quiet, but firm.
For a moment, Liang Fei studied him, as if weighing words unsaid. Then he shook his head with a chuckle. "Well, whatever drives you, don't die on some frozen trail. I'd like to see how far you climb before you burn out."
Li Wei tightened the straps of his pack. He did not owe explanations. His path was his alone.
---
The outer gates of Heavenly Dragon Sect opened with a groan of ancient hinges, revealing the winding mountain road beyond. Once he passed the protective array, the air felt different—less steady, raw and sharp against his skin. He adjusted the strap of his pack and began his journey north.
The road narrowed as it descended, twisting along cliffs where the wind howled and tugged at his robes. Villages dotted the foothills, smoke curling from chimneys, but many seemed subdued. Doors shut early. Windows shuttered even before night fell. Whispers of fear clung to the air.
He stopped in one such village, exchanging a few coins for a bowl of hot broth at a roadside tavern. The innkeeper's hands trembled as she set the bowl down. "You're from Heavenly Dragon Sect," she whispered, glancing around as if afraid of unseen ears. "If you're heading north… be careful. Caravans vanish. Hunters don't return. Some say it's beasts. Others say it's men."
Li Wei said nothing. He only finished the broth, left payment, and continued on.
That night, he slept in a loft above a stable, the smell of hay and horses thick in the air. He lay awake, listening to the creak of beams and the restless stamping of hooves below. The words of the innkeeper replayed in his mind. Men, not beasts. If so, then the threads of Redclaw Hollow stretched farther than he had realized.
Days stretched long on the road. The northern wind carried a chill that bit through his robes, and each night he lit only the smallest of fires, wary of drawing attention. The mission scroll, when unsealed, revealed its charge clearly:
Investigate disturbances along the northern routes. Protect trade caravans. Identify source of repeated disappearances.
It was exactly as he had expected. The faint echoes of Redclaw Hollow had now grown into a pattern too sharp to ignore.
On the third day, he passed through a ravine where old stone markers lined the path, their surfaces worn by centuries of wind. Locals said they were erected for travelers who never returned. He paused a moment before them, offering silent respect, then moved on. The wind there carried a strange stillness, as though remembering screams it could not forget.
On the fourth day, he discovered a caravan wreck. The wagons lay overturned, wheels shattered, goods scattered across the trail. The ground bore the marks of a struggle—deep boot prints, clawed grooves, spatters of blood long dried. No bodies remained.
Li Wei crouched, fingers brushing the dirt. The marks were too clean. Too deliberate. Whoever had struck here had taken their victims alive.
Slavers.
His hand closed tighter around his sword hilt.
The next village he reached carried the same weight of silence. Men gathered near the square, cudgels and hunting spears in their hands, but fear hollowed their faces. When Li Wei approached, their eyes widened with recognition at his sect robes, though hope and suspicion warred in equal measure.
One man finally spoke. "Strangers came two nights past. Took three of ours. We heard screams, but when we ran out, they were gone. Left no tracks we could follow."
Another added bitterly, "The weak are prey. That's what they said. Masks on their faces, blades in hand."
A woman clutched her child to her chest and asked, voice trembling, "Will Heavenly Dragon protect us? Or are we left to fend alone?"
Li Wei's jaw tightened. He left them promises of protection, though he knew words were little comfort. Until steel cut chains and blood was repaid, fear would remain their only companion.
He lingered longer than usual in that village, asking quiet questions, marking every detail. The masked men came at night, always taking captives rather than killing outright. Torches were seen moving toward the higher passes. Sometimes screams echoed from the cliffs, cut off suddenly. The people no longer believed these were mere bandits. They spoke of demons in human skin.
On the sixth day, Li Wei encountered a group of hunters returning empty-handed. They told him of trails where animal tracks ended abruptly, as though whole herds had vanished into thin air. In their eyes, exhaustion and fear ran deep, but also anger. One spat into the snow, muttering, "If the sect doesn't deal with this soon, there will be nothing left for them to protect."
Li Wei pressed onward, silent, but every word carved deeper into his determination. These raids were not random. They were a harvest.
On the seventh day of his journey, snow began to fall. Sparse at first, then heavier, veiling the pines in white. The road narrowed into a defile between high cliffs, a place where even caravans moved uneasily.
Li Wei slowed, senses stretching outward. The silence was too complete. No bird calls, no rustle of branches. Only the crunch of his boots in snow.
Then he saw it.
A strip of cloth, torn and bloodied, caught on a branch at the cliff's edge. The faintest trace of qi lingered in the air, sharp and wrong. A trail leading deeper into the mountains.
Li Wei exhaled, steady and deliberate, his breath misting in the cold. His jade token weighed heavy against his side, its glow faint beneath his robes. This mission would push him past the threshold. And beyond that threshold waited Foundation… and answers.
He placed a hand on his sword and stepped forward, into the narrowing pass.
The slaver network was waiting.