The city gates were distant now, swallowed by fog and forest.
Li Yuan Tian adjusted the strap holding his spear to his back. Three others stood with him: Ji Hu, cocky and theatrical with quick hands; Ren Shi, quiet as a shadow, bow on her back; and Chen Bo, thick-built and sweating, his armor clearly borrowed.
They weren't here by chance.
Earlier that morning, Elder Zhao, one of the senior instructors at Bai Martial Academy, had gathered them in the inner hall.
The man was stern-faced, long-bearded, with eyes like cold iron. He had a quiet reputation: once a Blood Opening cultivator who fought alongside Old Bai in wars long past. Now he oversaw practical missions.
"You four have trained long enough," Elder Zhao said, sweeping a gaze over them. "Your skills must meet the world now."
He dropped a scroll on the table. "Caravan escort. Routine route. Should be nothing."
Ji Hu yawned. "Sounds dull."
Zhao's eyes narrowed. "Then pray it stays that way."
Before they left, Old Bai found Yuan Tian on the stairs.
He didn't say much.
Just a low voice: "Observe. Don't just fight. Understand people. That's what keeps a blade sharp."
---
Now, the only thing surrounding them was silence.
"Too quiet," Yuan Tian muttered.
Ren Shi gave a faint nod. "Even birds aren't calling."
Ji Hu grinned. "You two are like old women. This is how the forest is."
Chen Bo opened his mouth to say something—then an arrow slammed into the cart beside him.
The second buried into a tree trunk.
The third—grazed Ji Hu's shoulder.
"Ambush!" Ren Shi shouted, rolling behind the cart and drawing her bow.
Figures emerged from the trees—seven of them, masked and lightly armored. Knives. Cleavers. A chipped dao.
Bandits.
---
Yuan Tian didn't freeze.
Mid-stage body tempering gave him speed and force most rookies lacked.
He surged forward, ducking under a flying blade, stabbing upward. His spear pierced through leather, stopping a man cold. He pivoted, struck with the butt of the weapon—cracked a kneecap—and swept his foot.
One down. Another bleeding.
Ren Shi's arrows sang.
Chen Bo struggled to hold the line, blade trembling.
Ji Hu flipped over a barrel, slashing one attacker across the thigh.
Then came the choice.
A bandit—barely older than Yuan Tian—dropped his weapon and held up his hands. "Please! I was forced—my family—"
Yuan Tian hesitated.
His father's voice returned:
> "Be cold. Be sharp. Never hesitate."
But so did his mother's:
> "When the world breaks you… rebuild."
His grip on the spear wavered. Then lowered.
"Go."
The boy ran into the trees.
---
By the end, four bandits were dead, two wounded, and one vanished into the woods.
The caravan was intact.
Ren Shi looked at Yuan Tian. "You let one go."
"I did."
"Good," she said after a pause. "He'll fear you more now than if you'd killed him."
They didn't speak further.
---
That night, under the crooked pine trees, they camped.
Ji Hu brooded in silence. Chen Bo cleaned his borrowed blade obsessively. Ren Shi kept watch.
Yuan Tian sat by the fire.
His hands were scratched. His blood was not his own.
But his mind?
Clear.
This mission hadn't just tested his strength.
It had tested who he was becoming.