A streak of vibrant pink tore through the Outer Sect marketplace, weaving through the tapestry of bodies with the subtlety of a fired arrow.

  "Woah!" A merchant yelped, clutching a stack of wooden crates to his chest as the air pressure around him suddenly dropped.

  "Watch where you're going, bra—"

  His words died in his throat.

  By the time he turned his head, the space was empty, the culprit already dissolved into the wind.

  To the casual observer, the girl was a disaster waiting to happen. She moved with a reckless velocity that seemed destined for a collision.

  But within Ying Xia’s mind and body, time flowed like syrup.

  Before her shoulder could graze a passing disciple or her boot could catch on a cobblestone, her body made the adjustment.

  A micro-shift of weight, a pivot of the heel—she swerved through the chaotic crowd with an instinctual, predator-like grace, dodging obstacles her conscious mind hadn't even registered yet.

  She skidded around a sharp corner, her boots kicking up a small cloud of dust.

  "Damn it!" The shout erupted from her chest, startling a trio of disciples nearby.

  "I should've asked Bi Kan where the darned Screeching Croak actually is!"

  Her voice boomed through the alleyway, bouncing off the stone walls.

  A few paces away, a middle-aged mortal froze.

  He had been adjusting the strap of a heavy burlap sack, but at the mention of the "Screeching Croak," his eyes widened, and his hand instinctively went to the hunting knife at his belt.

  Xia’s head snapped to the side.

  Her nostrils flared.

  Beneath the sect’s perfume of incense and sweat, she caught it—the pungent musk of wild game, the metallic tang of dried blood, and the distinct, sulfurous odor of swamp mud clinging to worn leather boots.

  A hunter. And he's been deep in the muck recently.

  "You!"

  Her finger shot out, leveling at the man like a spearpoint.

  "You know where I'm supposed to be going, don't you?!"

  The man flinched, pointing a trembling finger at his own chest. "M-Me?"

  This girl... she was a blur just a second ago. How did she notice my reaction from that distance?

  He swallowed hard, recognizing the crest on her robes.

  "U-Uh, Yes, Great Cultivator." He dropped into a hurried, clumsy bow.

  A wide, triumphant grin split Xia’s face. Bingo.

  The man slowly raised his head, intimidated by her intensity.

  "I... I happen to live in a village bordering the Screeching Croak. My family has hunted those wetlands for generations."

  Xia pumped a fist. "Perfect! If you're not busy, lead the way!"

  She took a step forward, then paused. Her brow furrowed as she remembered the stuffy Junior Elders who always watched her duels, scribbling in their notebooks with their noses in the air.

  I represent the sect now. I should sound... dignified. Pretentious. Like them.

  She cleared her throat, puffing out her chest and adopting a stiff, unnatural posture.

  "A-And!" She deepened her voice, trying to sound authoritative.

  "If you are currently occupied with mortal affairs, I shall trouble you to provide verbal directions towards the goal I am headed."

  Ugh. That felt weird. I sound so condescending! Like I'm reading from a rulebook!

  She groaned internally, fighting the urge to shake out her limbs.

  The mortal stood there, blinking in confusion at the sudden shift from aggressive shouting to stiff formality.

  Don't look at me like that! I'm trying to be polite here!

  Xia scrunched up her nose, then caught herself and coughed loudly. "Well?"

  The man straightened, snapping to attention.

  "Y-Yes! I can help lead the way!" A bead of sweat traced a path through the grime on his cheek.

  "I was just... on my way home. I finished selling my game to the butchers."

  Xia nodded, dropping the act and gesturing for him to move. "Lead on then!"

  She followed closely behind him, her hands clasped behind her head, radiating calm confidence on the outside while practically vibrating with excitement on the inside.

  Everything works out for the Great Xia! The Screeching Croak, eh? Surely there are other creatures lurking there. Maybe something even bigger than the bear Mi Jin talked about!

  Two hours melted away as the manicured stone paths of the sect gave way to dirt trails, and finally, to the dense, canopy-covered gloom of the outer wilderness.

  The air grew heavier, thick with moisture and the sound of buzzing insects.

  Xia's eyes seemed to track movement from her left, but ultimately she shrugged it off.

  The mortal stopped at a fork in the path, gesturing nervously toward a trail that seemed to descend into a darker, mist-shrouded valley.

  "W-Well, this is my stop. The village is just down there." He pointed a trembling finger toward the mist.

  "If you keep heading in that direction, past the old willow line... that's where the Screeching Croak begins. It's filled with all sorts of furry creatures... and disgusting ones, at that."

  Xia nodded, scanning the treeline. "Thanks for the help, Mortal!"

  The man scurried off toward the safety of his village. Xia cracked her knuckles, her eyes locked on the dark path ahead.

  She took a decisive step forward, ready to plunge into the unknown.

  Don't delve too deep, Xia.

  Bi Kan’s voice, dry and laced with that perpetual exhaustion, echoed clearly in her mind.

  Xia froze mid-step, her foot hovering over a gnarly root

  . She grimaced, the imaginary voice sounding irritatingly like the real thing.

  Ask the villagers for strange activities first.

  Don't go in blind.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, visualizing his dark-circled eyes piercing right through her soul, judging her recklessness.

  He looked like a disappointed parent.

  "Ugh!" She stomped her foot down, kicking a spray of dirt.

  "You're supposed to be gathering info, not going head in! I know, I know!"

  She wrestled with the urge to ignore him.

  The thrill of the hunt was right there.

  "Fine!"

  She spun on her heel, turning away from the exciting, monster-filled swamp and marching grudgingly toward the mundane, peaceful village.

  "I'll ask the villagers! Happy now, you ghost?!"

  The villagers turned in unison, drawn by the shout that cracked like a whip across the quiet afternoon.

  Work stopped.

  The rhythmic chopping of wood ceased, and conversations died in throats.

  Xia cleared her throat, squaring her shoulders as she marched toward the village center.

  A weathered stone well sat in the middle of the square, a sturdy wooden bench perched beside it.

  She didn't hesitate, hopping onto the bench to elevate herself above the gathering crowd.

  She crossed her arms firmly, channeling the imposing aura of the Junior Elders she so often mocked.

  "Everyone! Lend me your ears for a moment!" she announced, her voice projecting clearly.

  "This is a matter of life and death!"

  Slowly, the villagers drifted in, forming a crescent around the well.

  Children peeked out from behind their mothers' skirts, eyes wide with excitement at the sight of a cultivator, while the adults exchanged dark, worried glances.

  "Cultivators don't come down here to make speeches..." a withered old woman wheezed, leaning heavily on a gnarled cane. Her cloudy eyes darted nervously toward the forest edge.

  "Not unless blood has been spilled."

  "Could it be about that?" a man near the back muttered, stroking a patchy beard.

  He leaned closer to his neighbor. "It was eerie... he just found it minutes ago. There's no way the Sect knows already. Information doesn't fly that fast."

  Xia’s expression remained impassive, but her ears, honed by years of tracking game in the silence of the woods, picked out the threads of conversation woven into the noise.

  So there is something recent.

  "Silence!"

  Her command cut through the murmurs like a blade.

  "I appreciate your curiosity," she continued, her gaze sweeping over them, "but I am here for something specific. A hunt."

  She raised a hand, opening her palm dramatically toward the sky.

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  "Days ago, two disciples of the Jade Pathways Sect were assaulted.

  The beast responsible injects a potent venom that cripples the body and rots the spirit. One of our own currently lies bedridden, fighting for his life!"

  A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Hands flew to mouths, and parents pulled their children closer.

  "I have come to investigate. I have come to purge this filth from the Screeching Croak."

  She clenched her open hand into a tight fist. "The creature takes the shape of the nightmares that crawl in your walls.

  Eight legs. Many eyes glowing with dread."

  Xia spread her arms wide, exaggerating the scale.

  "But this is no common pest. It stands half the height of a bear on its hind legs! It possesses the strength to pierce the hide of a mature Iron-Fur Bear in a single strike!"

  Her hand slashed through the air, mimicking a stinging tail.

  "It carries the tail of a scorpion! Such a distinct monstrosity does not go unnoticed. I know the forest talks. I hope that at least one of you has the courage to speak up."

  The crowd shifted uneasily. Eyes darted to the ground. The silence was thick, heavy with secrets.

  Near the back, a tight knot of men circled a shivering figure.

  "Y-You don't have to tell her," one of the men hissed into the shivering man's ear, his hand gripping the other's shoulder a little too tightly.

  "We can just... bury the evidence. Pretend you never saw it."

  Xia’s eyes narrowed. The hunter within her woke up.

  She didn't walk. She moved.

  One moment she was standing on the bench, the next she was a blur of pink and grey hurtling through the air.

  She landed in the center of the huddled group with a heavy thud that sent dust billowing around their boots.

  Flash.

  Light erupted from the ring on her finger.

  The golden Dragon-Fang Spear materialized in her grip, the metal singing as it sliced through the air.

  The tip arrested millimeters from the trembling man’s Adam's apple.

  "Speak."

  Her voice was low, devoid of the theatrical flair she had used moments before.

  It was the cold, hard tone of an executioner.

  "If you withhold vital information from the Sect, that is a direct violation of our compact."

  Her eye twitched slightly, a crack in the mask, but she smoothed it over instantly.

  "You enjoy our protection in exchange for being our eyes in the Wilderness. We cannot be everywhere at once."

  She pressed the spear forward, the cold metal kissing the skin of his throat.

  "Speak now. Or the consequences will be... severe."

  The man was paralyzed, his eyes locked on the gleaming golden blade, his breath coming in short, terrified gasps.

  He couldn't form words; fear had locked his jaw tight.

  Xia leaned in an inch closer, her patience wearing thin.

  "Please! Stop!"

  A blonde man from the group threw his hands up, stepping between the spear and his friend.

  "I know why he's shaking! I know what he found! Don't hurt him!"

  Xia’s head snapped toward the interrupter, though the spear didn't waver from its target.

  "Then you speak. Now."

  The blonde man swallowed hard, wiping sweat from his brow.

  He looked at the trembling man, then back at the fierce young cultivator.

  "He... he told a few of us just now," the man stammered, clearing his throat to speak louder.

  "He was out gathering mushrooms and herbs, just on the edge of the deep woods earlier today. He was minding his own business, digging near a rotting log, when his nose caught a whiff of—"

  The forest air grew heavy, the usual chorus of cicadas dying out as if suffocated by a thick, metallic miasma.

  Xia stepped over a gnarled root, her boots sinking into damp earth.

  She didn't need the villager to guide her anymore.

  The story held true.

  Her nose twitched.

  The scent wasn't the earthy decay of the swamp; it was sharp, copper-rich, and fresh.

  "I didn't expect this."

  She stopped before a massive oak tree.

  A deep, horizontal gouge marred the bark, sap weeping from the wound like amber tears.

  But it was what lay at the foot of the boulder just beyond that drew her gaze.

  A figure clad in the fine, silk robes of the Inner Court lay slumped against the stone.

  Or rather, parts of him did. The body had been bisected cleanly at the waist, the top half sliding precariously to the side, entrails spilling out into a grim pool that soaked the moss.

  The Jade Pathways crest on his chest was sliced perfectly in two.

  "No wonder that guy was shaking so hard," Xia murmured, her expression tightening.

  "He probably thought the Sect would blame him for finding a dead Inner Disciple and not reporting it instantly."

  She crouched, inspecting the wound. The edges of the flesh were smooth, almost surgical.

  "How awful." Her fingers hovered over the cut, analyzing it with a hunter’s eye.

  "But... this doesn't make sense. The Spider-Scorpion kills with venom. It melts, it paralyzes, it eats. It doesn't have the anatomy to shear a cultivator in half like a piece of paper."

  She stood up, her grip tightening on the shaft of her spear.

  "There's no reason for a beast to leave a kill this clean."

  Snap.

  A soft, unnatural rustle cut through the stillness—the sound of heavy fabric whipping against the wind.

  Xia spun on her heel, her instincts screaming.

  "Maybe it was another creature that did this," she said to the empty air, her eyes tracking a blur of movement in the canopy.

  "And it's very smart."

  From the dense foliage to her left, a shadow detached itself from the darkness.

  It didn't pounce like a beast; it blitzed with the calculated trajectory of an arrow.

  A gleam of steel flashed in the filtered sunlight, aimed directly at the exposed nape of her neck.

  CLINK!

  Xia didn't even look.

  She swung her golden spear behind her back in a blind parry, the Dragon-Fang shaft catching the descending blade with a shower of sparks.

  "Ngk!"

  A grunt of surprise escaped the attacker. The force of the impact vibrated through his arms, the shockwave rippling through his cloaked form.

  He used the recoil to kick off the spear shaft, flipping backward to create distance.

  He landed silently in a crouch ten paces away, his face swallowed by the deep cowl of his hood.

  His blade, a curved, wicked thing, dripped with fresh blood that matched the pool by the boulder.

  "Now this is a surprise," Xia said, turning fully to face him. She spun her spear in a lazy arc, resting the butt against her hip.

  "I didn't expect to be ambushed by a fellow cultivator out here."

  Her green eyes sparked, the thrill of battle igniting within them.

  She leveled the golden tip at the figure lurking in the shade of the trees.

  "You must be him. The one the Mission Hall is whispering about. The Rogue Cultivator."

  The Rogue slowly straightened. He didn't speak. He didn't posture.

  He simply raised his blade, assuming a stance that was devoid of any recognizable style.

  Xia peered into the darkness of his hood, trying to catch his gaze. When she found his eyes, her smirk faltered for a fraction of a second.

  They were filled with killing intent, undeniable and potent. But it wasn't the fiery rage of a bandit, nor the desperate hunger of a beast.

  His pupils didn't dilate with adrenaline or hate.

  They remained static.

  Dead.

  It was weird. It was an intent to kill, yet completely saturated with indifference.

  As if severing her head was no different than chopping a piece of firewood.

  Bi Kan’s eyes were narrow slits of cold calculation, harboring a malice that yearned for a kill.

  His fingers twitched, imagining the tactile snap of bone, but his hand stayed at his side.

  I cannot kill him. The thought was a cold bucket of water on his burning intent.

  Sect rules.

  No crippling.

  No killing.

  I must dissect him without breaking the toy.

  As their names were announced, the atmosphere in the courtyard shifted.

  The casual passerby stopped, and a ring of eager spectators solidified around them.

  "A fight between two disciples at the 8th Stage?!" A bald disciple pumped his fist into the air, his voice cracking with excitement.

  "It’s rare to see the high-level Outer Disciples actually throw down!"

  "Usually they're hidden away," a girl with a ribbon in her hair agreed, her eyes wide.

  "They’re always cultivating, too focused on the Inner Court to bother with street fights!"

  Another disciple clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

  "You say that, but the Pink Whirlwind has been putting on a show all week. Seeing two disciples of that caliber? This won't be a sloppy brawl. This is going to be a clinic in technique."

  A studious disciple nearby clutched his notebook so tightly his knuckles turned white, craning his neck.

  "I wonder what martial arts they've mastered..."

  Bi Kan stood motionless, letting the waves of speculation wash over him.

  He watched his opponent—the leader of the group—puff out his chest, soaking in the attention.

  All these eyes. He loves it. Bi Kan analyzed the slight shift in the leader’s stance, the way he squared his shoulders to look broader.

  He’s easily swayed by the atmosphere.

  His ego is his pilot.

  Just because we share the same realm doesn't mean we share the same mindset.

  The Arrogant Disciple roared, launching himself headfirst into the fray. His fist tore through the air, a straight, heavy thrust aimed squarely at Bi Kan’s chest.

  Limit movement. Conserve energy. Don't let the cracks show.

  Bi Kan didn't leap away. He didn't block. He simply shifted his weight.

  The fist hammered into the empty space where his ribs had been a fraction of a second before, the fabric of his robes fluttering from the wind of the blow.

  The Arrogant Disciple’s eyes widened. He gritted his teeth, retracting his arm and unleashing a relentless barrage of jabs and hooks.

  "W-Woah! Look at that zombie-looking guy!" a spectator shouted, laughing. "He's literally dancing around him!"

  Laughter rippled through the crowd. The Arrogant Disciple’s face flushed a deep, humiliating crimson. His ego took a physical blow with every miss.

  He’s unraveling, Bi Kan noted, swaying back from a wild haymaker.

  But there's something wrong.

  His technique isn't bad, but he's hesitating at the end of his extension.

  He suspects I’m injured? Or is he just afraid of overcommitting?

  Then, a sly, predatory grin twisted the disciple’s face.

  He pulled his right arm back for a heavy blow, baiting the dodge, but his left hand shot out with blinding speed—a snap jab faster than anything he’d thrown before.

  Bi Kan’s pupils constricted.

  Fast.

  He twisted his neck, jerking his head to the side.

  The knuckles grazed his chin, burning the skin.

  The sudden, violent torque sent a shockwave of agony through his damaged core.

  "Ngk!"

  Bi Kan’s movement stalled. His face scrunched up, a grimace of pure pain flashing across his features as his hand instinctively went to his chest.

  The disciple’s right fist was already flying, aimed for a knockout—but it stopped. It froze inches from Bi Kan’s wincing face.

  The Arrogant Disciple blinked, his momentum dying instantly.

  T-This guy! I barely grazed him and he's wincing like he's dying?! The disciple’s mind raced, his pride warring with his aggression.

  Is he already injured? If I knock him out now, while he's clutching his chest... the crowd won't cheer.

  They'll say I beat a cripple. They'll say I won unfairly!

  "O-Oi!" The disciple stammered, pulling his fist back slightly, confusion clouding his killing intent.

  "Are you mocking m—"

  So, you're that kind, huh?

  Bi Kan’s eyes snapped open, the pain shoved into a mental box to be dealt with later.

  You let your guard down because of your twisted sense of honor. That naivety is fatal.

  Bi Kan didn't hesitate.

  Heat surged through his meridians, not the gentle warmth of cultivation, but the violent hiss of water hitting hot iron.

  Faint wisps of steam rose from his skin as his blood began to boil.

  It is incomplete. A fragment of the power.

  But it is enough.

  "Hah!"

  Bi Kan’s fist drove forward.

  It was a blur, propelled by the sudden, explosive pressure of the Legendary Boar Technique (Mini-Version).

  It slipped past the disciple’s hesitation, past his guard, and slammed into the side of his neck with the force of a sledgehammer.

  THWACK.

  The disciple didn't even have time to look surprised.

  His head snapped violently to the side.

  His eyes rolled back into his skull, showing only the whites.

  His body convulsed once, a puppet with its strings cut, before he collapsed.

  He hit the stone pavement with a heavy, final thud.

  Hss...

  A sharp, throbbing ache radiated from Bi Kan’s right arm, echoing deep into his shoulder socket.

  He kept his face impassive, sliding his hand into his sleeve to hide the faint tremor of his fingers.

  That took a lot out of me...

  The rush of steam from his pores dissipated into the cool air.

  The silence in the courtyard was absolute, the kind of heavy quiet that follows a sudden execution.

  "H-Hey, what was that...?" a disciple whispered, eyes wide. "That was too quick!"

  The murmurs began to swell, a tide of confusion and awe.

  High above, perched on the curve of a pagoda roof, a figure in pristine white robes snapped his notebook shut.

  He tucked it deep into his sleeve, his slicked-back white hair catching the afternoon sun.

  "Impressive. Even I almost missed the activation flow," the Junior Elder muttered, his eyes narrowing as he studied the boy below.

  "That technique... the compression, the explosive release... it doesn't belong to the Jade Pathways Sect."

  A cold, calculating smile curved his lips.

  "He possesses no notable talent, his foundation is mediocre, yet that martial art is far too high-level for an ordinary Outer Disciple."

  His figure flickered and dissolved into nothingness.

  Down below, a phantom chill raced up Bi Kan’s spine. He stopped mid-step, his head snapping up to scan the empty rooftops.

  There was nothing there but tiles and birds, yet his paranoia screamed at him.

  Did I show off too much? I had no choice... but now, I’ve definitely been marked.

  The silence broke. A thunderous round of applause erupted from the crowd, drowning out his unease.

  "Even though it was quick, that is what a true duel should be!"

  "Exactly!" another disciple shouted, nodding fervently. "Flashy moves are useless! In a duel without bets, your pride is the only prize. You must win decisively! Don't drag it out!"

  Bi Kan let out a small, weary smirk. He dusted his hands off, stepping casually over the unconscious body of the Arrogant Disciple as if he were stepping over a puddle.

  The lackeys, pale and shaking, scrambled past him to tend to their fallen boss.

  If this were a life and death match, you'd be cooling in a pool of your own blood by now, Bi Kan thought, casting one last cold look at the heap on the ground.

  Let this be your lesson. Hesitation is just a slower form of suicide.

  He pushed through the crowd, leaving the cheers behind.

  As he rounded the corner, the looming silhouette of the Jaded Knowledge Library came into view.

  Standing behind the reception desk was a familiar figure.

  Wei Zing adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, the lenses flashing opaque as they caught the reflection of the afternoon sun.

  He looked up from his ledger as Bi Kan’s shadow fell across the desk.

  "If it isn't Junior Brother Bi Kan," Wei Zing drawled, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

  "Here to study again? I must say, you've been incredibly studious lately. But from my observations, you haven't accepted a single mission requiring such lore. Just pure, unadulterated curiosity, is it?"

  "A-Ahem." Bi Kan cleared his throat, forcing his aching body to straighten up.

  "It's nice to see you as well, Senior Brother Wei Zing."

  His eyes hardened, the pleasantries dying instantly.

  "But no. This time, it isn't curiosity."

  SLAM!

  Bi Kan’s palm crashed against the wooden reception table, startling Wei Zing into dropping his brush.

  "Give me the book that contains every beast lurking in the Screeching Croak!" Bi Kan leaned in, his voice urgent and low.

  "I need to know what lives in the shadows. Now."