The road wound endlessly through green valleys and steep ridges, each turn revealing another slice of the vast world Lin Dong had only heard of in stories. The Red Leaf Caravan creaked forward, wheels crunching over gravel, banners fluttering faintly in the wind.
Lin Dong sat on the rear cart beside Li Yan, the archer who'd recruited him after the wolf attack. Her bow rested across her knees, and a half-eaten apple dangled from her fingers.
"Not every day a boy your age cracks a Windfang's jaw with a stick," she said, side-eyeing him. "You sure you're not hiding a spirit beast in there?"
He smiled faintly. "If I am, it doesn't listen."
She chuckled — low and rough, like gravel. "Then you're lucky. Most things that powerful don't take kindly to being ignored."
The caravan moved in silence for a while. The air smelled of pine and smoke. A hawk cried somewhere high above.
Lin Dong studied the guards: seasoned men with quiet eyes, hands always near their blades. Each bore different insignias — minor clans, mercenary bands, wandering swordsmen. The world beyond Qingyang, he realized, was stitched together by power and survival, not loyalty.
"Where are you headed?" he asked.
"Yan City," she replied. "Same as you. Caravan business. But mostly," she added with a smirk, "I like to live where the money and danger are equal."
"And which do you find more?"
"Depends who's paying."
Her gaze flicked again to the token around his neck. "You really plan to join the Martial Hall?"
"That's the idea."
"Then you'd better learn fast. Yan City isn't a place for the naive. Power there doesn't come from birth — it comes from what you're willing to sacrifice for it."
Her words lingered, sharp as thrown knives.
They reached a narrow gorge by dusk. The cliffs rose steeply on both sides, painted crimson by the sinking sun. The caravan leader, an old merchant with a hooked nose, called for a halt.
"We rest here. Fires low — the mountains echo, and not everything that hears is human."
Lin Dong jumped down from the cart, stretching his sore legs. The forest beyond was dense, alive with unseen motion.
He crouched near a small fire, the rune beneath his collarbone glowing faintly from the day's exertion. He could feel it feeding, like it was drinking from the energy around him — from the storm within the mountains themselves.
A quiet voice interrupted his thoughts.
"It's not ordinary Qi, is it?"
He turned. Li Yan sat opposite him, sharpening her dagger. The firelight flickered across her face, revealing the faint tattoo under her left eye — a sigil of the Azure Falcons, a mercenary group known for hunting spirit beasts.
"What makes you think that?" Lin Dong asked carefully.
She shrugged. "Qi flows smooth. Yours… crackles. Like it's alive."
He hesitated, then looked down. "I don't know what it is. I just woke it up one day."
"Then keep it close. And hidden." Her tone hardened. "There are men in Yan City who'd kill to possess something like that — or kill you just to dissect it."
Before he could reply, a guard shouted from the ridge.
"Riders! Six of them!"
The camp burst into motion. Swords drawn, bows raised, firelight flashing against steel.
The riders emerged moments later — cloaked figures on dark horses, faces masked. Their leader dismounted slowly, moving with a predator's calm.
"Evening," the man said smoothly. "We mean no harm. We just need your cargo."
The merchant sputtered, "We've paid the road toll—!"
The man smiled. "Then consider this an adjustment."
His eyes locked on Lin Dong. Something in them flickered — recognition? Greed?
"And you, boy… where did you get that rune mark?"
Lin Dong stiffened. Li Yan's bow came up instantly.
"Back off."
The man chuckled, but his hand glowed faintly under the torchlight — black Qi.
"Ah. The stories were true. The Lin boy lives."
Before anyone could react, he struck.
A surge of shadow exploded outward, scattering the guards like leaves. Lin Dong barely managed to shield himself — the rune flared, forming a translucent barrier that shimmered gold under the night sky.
Li Yan loosed an arrow. The man caught it midair — snapped it — and vanished.
He reappeared behind her. But Lin Dong was faster. He thrust out his hand, and the air sang.
A pulse of golden energy slammed into the attacker, hurling him backward into a rock wall. The impact shook the ground.
The other riders hesitated — clearly not expecting that kind of resistance.
Their leader stood, blood trickling from his lip, and hissed,
"So it's true. The Talisman Spirit chose a vessel."
Then, to Lin Dong's shock, he smiled.
"Good. That makes it easier."
He whistled sharply. The sound wasn't human.
From the shadows above, something massive stirred — wings unfolding, eyes burning with red flame. A winged beast, part panther, part crow, dropped onto the ridge, shaking the earth with its weight.
"Kill the others," the man ordered. "Bring me the boy alive."
The caravan erupted in chaos again.
Li Yan grabbed Lin Dong's arm.
"We can't fight that thing — run!"
But Lin Dong didn't move. His eyes fixed on the beast as the rune ignited again, casting his face in golden fire. The air around him crackled, alive with unseen force.
He whispered, almost to himself,
"If I keep running… this will never stop."
He stepped forward as the monster roared, its claws tearing through the ground.
The golden light in his palm flared brighter — and for a heartbeat, the night became day.