The morning sun burned faintly against the mist as Li Xian gathered the four of them near the Sect's southern gate. Her gaze was razor-sharp, her voice clipped with the authority of someone who had been through a hundred missions herself.
"This mission will test everything you've learned," she said. "I won't follow you. You will go, finish the task, and return to me with the relic. If you succeed, you'll prove yourselves as disciples worthy of the Thief Clan. If you fail…" her eyes narrowed, "then you'll prove yourselves unworthy of my time."
Chen Yuan swallowed. Bao Fu rubbed his hands nervously. Yan Mei only tilted her head, calm as always.
Lu Mao smirked. "Sounds simple enough."
"Simple missions," Li Xian replied coolly, "are the ones where careless disciples die."
That silenced them.
With a final wave, she dismissed them. "Go. Make the clan proud."
⸻
They set out together, the road snaking into a dense jungle. Birds cried in the canopy, and faint trails of mist coiled between ancient trees.
Bao Fu swung his arms, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, at least we're not being asked to rob an emperor's palace for our first job."
Chen Yuan groaned. "Don't jinx it. Knowing our luck, the next mission will be that."
Yan Mei glanced at Lu Mao. "You seem awfully calm."
Lu Mao stretched lazily, his tone amused. "Because nervous hands drop treasures. I prefer mine steady."
"More like you're reckless," Chen Yuan muttered.
They laughed, even if faintly, and pressed on until the muffled crackle of a campfire reached their ears.
Through the undergrowth, the scene unfolded: a wide clearing, a wagon draped with crimson cloth, crates stacked around it, and a group of mercenary martial artists lounging with weapons at the ready. The merchant sat cross-legged on a cushion, his fat body draped in silks, eyes like greedy lanterns as he slurped wine.
"Eyes of the Hawk," Lu Mao whispered, activating the technique.
Instantly, the world sharpened. Every breath, every twitch of muscle in the guards became visible. He could see the patterns of their patrol, the way one favored his left leg, the faint tremor in another's wrist. It was like watching a choreographed play where he knew the lines before they were spoken.
Yan Mei crouched beside him, her whisper softer than a breeze. "How many?"
"Six guards close to the wagon," Lu Mao replied. "Two more circling the perimeter. The merchant himself—fat, slow, overconfident."
Chen Yuan adjusted his satchel straps, whispering, "If we move with Shadow Steps, and time it between their patrols…"
"…we could reach the wagon unnoticed," Yan Mei finished.
Bao Fu rubbed his hands together. "Finally, something sneaky. I was born for this."
They exchanged nods. One by one, their figures blurred as they activated Shadow Steps, slipping into the undergrowth like specters. The silence was heavy, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the faint crackle of fire ahead.
Closer. Closer. The merchant's wagon loomed before them.
And then—
A sharp laugh cut through the stillness.
"Well, well. What do we have here?"
Lu Mao's eyes snapped up, his heart sinking.
Zhang Wei.
He emerged from the trees with five goons at his back, faces twisted with cruel glee. The sudden commotion snapped the mercenaries from their drowsiness. Blades hissed free, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Zhang Wei pointed straight at Lu Mao's group, voice booming. "Merchant! These rats were about to steal from you! No need to dirty your hands—we'll deal with them. You just sit tight and pay us later."
The merchant's eyes gleamed greedily. "Oh? You'll take care of them for me? Good. Do as you like. Whoever survives… I'll decide if they're worth hiring."
Chen Yuan's face went pale. "He—he's betraying us already?"
Bao Fu cursed. "Of course the fat bastard would do that!"
The mercenaries smirked, stepping back to watch. None of them moved to intervene. Why waste energy when these brats would butcher each other for free?
Zhang Wei's grin widened, blade flashing. "Lu Mao… I've been waiting for this."
⸻
The clearing erupted into chaos.
Zhang Wei lunged first, his blade crashing against Chen Yuan's guard. Sparks flared. Two of his lackeys rushed Bao Fu, who scrambled back, weaving his Finger Dance strikes desperately. Yan Mei blurred with Shadow Flicker, narrowly evading a slash aimed for her throat.
Lu Mao's expression hardened. He really picked the worst time.
With a snap, his Phantom Double shimmered into existence. A phantom version of himself appeared, sprinting to flank Zhang Wei's men. At the same time, his fist clenched, Wind Fist humming with compressed power.
Zhang Wei snarled. "Tricks won't save you!"
The fight was vicious. Steel clashed, fists struck, shadows blurred. Bao Fu's fingers danced like vipers, forcing his attackers back. Chen Yuan, despite his nerves, moved with his Blend Stride, slipping between strikes and countering with sharp precision. Yan Mei flickered through shadows, her strikes fast and merciless, forcing her opponent to stumble back with cuts lining his arms.
But Zhang Wei was relentless, his attacks brutal. He slashed Chen Yuan's shoulder, sending blood spraying. Chen Yuan staggered, teeth clenched against the pain.
Lu Mao's eyes blazed. Enough.
He activated Phantom Veil, his presence flickering, confusing Zhang Wei. In that instant, his silver Eyes of Hawk activated fully—he saw the precise moment Zhang Wei's muscles tensed for a killing strike, saw the angle of his blade before it moved.
Lu Mao's real body appeared behind him.
"I am Your end," he whispered.
Wind Fist erupted. A gust howled, striking Zhang Wei's back with bone-cracking force. He screamed, blood spraying from his mouth, his body crashing into the dirt.
The goons froze. Their leader lay broken, gasping.
The surviving followers, seeing Zhang Wei fainted, fled immediately into the forest. The mercenary guards beside the merchant received orders to attack and "bring them dead."
Lu Mao's eyes narrowed. He shouted sharply, "Run!"
The team hesitated for a split second, confused, then bolted into the jungle without question, believing he was leading them. In reality, only the Phantom Double was moving with them, while Lu Mao stayed behind, preparing his next move in silence.
The merchant chuckled smugly, thinking the brats had scattered. "Clever boy, sacrificing yourself. Now—"
But the mercenary sitting lazily beside him suddenly shifted, Doppelgänger active, and it was Lu Mao's face in the place of the guard. The merchant's eyes widened, realization dawning too late.
A single Wind Fist slammed into his gut. The fat man toppled backward, unconscious, eyes rolling.
Lu Mao crouched, rifling through the crates until his fingers closed around a small, ornate box. The relic.
He slipped it into his robe, expression calm. "Mission complete."
⸻
Deeper in the jungle, Yan Mei, Bao Fu, and Chen Yuan had set traps just in case things went wrong. Mercenaries barreled through, three of them caught in snares and pitfalls, curses ringing through the forest.
The rest halted suddenly as a loud thud echoed from the clearing.
They returned to find the merchant sprawled unconscious, the wagon ransacked, their target gone.
A silence hung heavy.
One of the mercenaries, a scar-faced veteran, stepped forward. His voice was low, bitter. "Those kids outdid us. Find out who they are… They've shamed us today."
The others exchanged grim looks.
The shadows of the jungle swallowed Lu Mao's team, their laughter faint in the distance.
And the legend of their first mission had begun.