“Aye, who are you?”

  Hao turned slowly, his eyes scanning the group. There were three, all men, and two had sabers pointed at Hao. Another, the third, stood in the back. His hands open out in front of him. All from Two Rivers Fortress, wearing that dust-brown, yellow robe. The robes didn’t prove affiliation by themselves. But only disciples of Two Rivers Fortress would approach with such audacity on top of pre-drawn weapons—Of course, oversized sabers of all things.

  “Do you know why all these peach-wood passes were thrown around like this?” Hao asked, facing the two with the sabers as they inched close.

  The two in the front took turns speaking. Careful not to speak over each other. They could have been a comedy duo if they didn’t stink like corpses. If the drawn sabers didn’t drip red-tinted water.

  The taller one was more aggressive, taking a step forward as he spoke. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

  “I wouldn’t pick it up unless you want the Sun-Burnt Swordsmen coming after you. Not that he’d have a chance unless you give up your Sect’s camps.” The other saber wielder was quick to back up his partner. He darted forward, the saber rising to Hao’s neck height as he moved downhill.

  The one in the back walked slowly. His eyes bulged as he stared downhill at Hao.

  Hao found himself surprised; they spoke well. Far better than most of the muscle-bound Disciples he observed from Two Rivers Fort, even better spoken than the food-loving Dong Lingli. He stared at them, working through. When he heard Sun-Burnt Swordsmen, the spore-covered face of Meng Hongyu popped into his mind. The man followed Hao into the trial. It was easy to imagine the rage-filled face of the sharp-eyebrowed man turning to anyone back on that day.

  “Do you know if a tool maker, one of your Martial Brothers, entered the Trial? It would have been a while ago.” Hao tilted his foot, angling his head away from the approaching saber tips.

  “Hoh? I was wondering what someone was doing alone away from the two mining camps… You Drifting Stream people are shameless.”

  “At least try to be conspicuous while stealing information. Spy.”

  Hao squinted his eyebrows, “Spy? I’m just checking on a friend.”

  One took a big step forward, his harsh scoff sending spit landing near Hao’s feet. “Pfft. I didn’t think anyone but that Mo bastard could lie with such a convincing straight face. It must be the first thing they teach in the Drifting Stream Sect.”

  The tip of the saber was close to Hao’s shoulder; if he were facing them, it would touch his neck. Something must have happened… Hao let out a long sigh. His hand reached up to touch the end of the saber.

  The one whose saber Hao touched pulled his blade back, his brow creasing. His eyes became hard. “You! Are you trying to start a fight?”

  Hao started, “I am not lying. If you have information on Mo Bangcai, I would like that as well…”

  “Ha,” The sudden burst of sound stopped his words. “Your group picked quite the fool to spy on others; everyone knows where that beast is. Everywhere he goes, he tries his damndest to grab attention. That’s the problem with you, Drifting Stream freaks. You all pretend to be righteous while your self-proclaimed successor collects a tax to protect his fellow disciples.”

  The one in the back joined in, laughed, “That fool deserved every lesson he received. I’m sure there will be more to come. All he, no, the entire Drifting Stream can do is bully the weak!”

  He continued, getting closer to the backs of the two wielding sabers, who nodded their heads as he spoke. “Harassing women was already going too far. But that little beast touched a girl from Blue Moon’s Mountain. Now your whole Sect will pay even if you get out of the Secret Realm.”

  Hao’s head nearly fell off his shoulders, his neck rolling back. His unkempt hair hit the space between his shoulder blades. Even when their only association was the color of their robes, Mo Bangcai caused Hao some trouble, an achievement in a manner. Everywhere the man went. No matter the place, whether ignorance or arrogance, Mo Bangcai did something that wronged someone, murdering the innocent and old, or worse. It would do more than cost Hao anger and a friend this time. It seemed it would cost everyone in the Sect, if not the Sect itself.

  “Too bad he had all his little bodyguards, or the Sun-Touched Swordsmen would have split him in two. A real man, defending his people, unlike that animal, Mo Bangcai.”

  “Where is he?” Hao asked.

  “Oh, are you going to rush to his defence?” The sabers drew closer again.

  It burned Hao’s ears, just hearing the name. The note that his little group was still hanging around him. The ones that beat Grandpa He to death in front of his wife. That old man… Hao kept the flare of anger off his face, but it broke out through his voice.

  “It’s more likely I will carry the little beast’s head out myself!” Hao shouted.

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  All three fell to silence, their breaths pausing from the words, and the two in front were quick to squint their eyes. The back one flashed his teeth; his eyes bulged as though someone had taken them from a giant sea owl and forced them into his skull.

  “Enough of this. All his words are lies. You’re just a spy trying to find the Cannon Master’s last disciple!” Owl-eyes yelled, taking out a small yellow sheet of paper, slapping it on the side of the saber.

  Hao didn’t have a chance to say anything more. The saber rose and fell, though it was slow in Hao’s eyes. He could see it through his streaky vision. The shapes were clear and well defined, his sight was almost as good as before, but light stretched and pulled in strange ways.

  Owl-eyes in the back leaped back, taking out another sheet of yellow paper, pressing it on the back of the other saber-wielder. He crouched down with his role, it seemed, prepared to run if he had to. For allies, or to flee, Hao wasn’t going to find out.

  The close saber, Hao, shot his hand out too, feeling his Seventh Rank Cultivation flow in combat for the first time. The World Energy was light and fluffy, cloud-like. But when he moved it, it felt like a wave. It added power to his hand, sending the saber out wide.

  The weight of the blade surprised Hao.

  Though a little extra weight couldn’t slow him down, as the saber swung wide, he pressed his palm into the face of its wielder.

  The blade fell from his hand as it hit the ground like a boulder, and the man flew back towards Owl-Eyes. The second man was the opposite.

  Hao performed the same technique. Easy to land on the weapon with such wide blades. The saber went flying, spinning off behind Owl-eyes. The man hit the ground like the first saber did, a stone in a lake.

  With both of them unarmed and down, the first one unconscious, the other struggling to get up. Hao leapt at Owl-eyes before he could do whatever he was planning.

  The big-eyed man was quick to launch a counterattack. Despite the yellow robes and muscled appearance, he didn’t take out a saber but another sheet of yellow paper. He scratched the corner of the paper before sticking it out at Hao’s palm. It stuck to his hand.

  Hao felt like the weight of a tree trunk stuck to his right hand. His outstretched palm was open and empty, yet if he had a blindfold on, he would assume someone set a mountain on it. Gravity flipped his aim, pulling him down towards the ground. Hao’s strike hit the grass. His hand sank deep into the soft, rich soil. He kept his eyes on Owl-eyes, who was already moving back towards the Forest.

  Hao slid his feet forward. He crouched to lift his hand with his legs, and he crouched again, placing his arm down on his knee as he turned his palm over. The yellow piece of paper had a drawing of an anvil fit inside the matching word, both in red paint. In the corner was a circle of red with a scratch through it. Hao touched that circle like Owl-eyes did. There was an abundance of something like World Energy seeping from it into the rest of the paper. The power was far thicker. Hao tried to absorb it like normal World Energy.

  The paper exploded.

  Hao’s hand slapped against his chest, with all the weight suddenly vanishing. He didn’t let himself get distracted. He leapt forward, using Seven Colored Steps to catch Owl-eyes and cut him off before he could get too far. Hao didn’t have to say anything. Owl-eyes raised his hands.

  He moved back as he spoke, pointing. “Mo was wandering from mountain to mountain, taking amethysts from people. He was away, chased from that mountain close to the blue forest, and he disappeared into the trees. His head still peaks out every once in a while. As for the Cannon Master’s disciple…”

  “Stop! Say no more…” The larger one, with the paper on his back, shouted a dozen giant footsteps away.

  Hao sighed, “Is he alive?”

  Owl-eyes nodded, “But, he had no interest in Amethysts, only wanted a few to look at, he found a place to hide with other disciples…”

  Hao sighed again, this one different, a little relief filling his stomach, “Hah, is that so… What about people who entered the central mountain? How long have you guys been here? Did you see anyone come out?”

  Owl-eyes shook his head this time. “Only a few days, but no one from the mountain. We’ve seen nobody go in either… You are the first person we’ve seen at all… since we came here…”

  Hao knew the man had no more to say on the topic; the last part was an obvious lie. Owl-eyes lifted his head, his neck on display, almost as if he was asking for a clean death. His neck bobbed with a gulp.

  “You can go, leave, after you tell me about this paper?”

  He seemed surprised, “Ah, um… It’s just a talisman, a tool from an Elder…” He stopped himself, his neck pulling back and his steps retreating. “I can’t make them, it was a gift, they are nothing that special, really. Not reusable or anything, I scratch that circle to let my Elder Spiritual Energy out…”

  Hao stepped forward and touched the man’s shoulder, nodding.

  Owl-eyes stood there a while longer, his thumbs tapping each other, “Senior? I’ve never seen you at the mountain camps before…” he spoke awkwardly.

  Hao turned, leaving them to help each other. He went towards the mountain he knew as Joy, a strange name for a Mountain, especially when you know its namesake. The people behind him called out, but he ignored their words and kept going forward. It would have been bad if they noticed they were missing a few things. He didn’t take everything from their bags and pockets; he left their food and drink.

  A season ended, and another was reaching its end. Hao had not been in a gathering of people in that time, not seen a single one. Those three were the first. He had been in the cave all that time. The people he knew before entering the trial may not recognize him now, and he felt taller. When he looked at his reflection in the water, he hardly recognized himself.

  I wonder how Meiqi will react, Hao chuckled to himself as he reached into the Spirit-Holding bag’s Space. There was always one feature that stuck out without a doubt. He took handfuls of grey stone dust and rubbed it into his hair. The charcoal black and blonde streaks blended into a new color altogether.

  The hair fell loose. Hao could not tie it, keep it from his face. The string Meiqi had given him had long broken from wear. He had other strings, bits of tattered cloth, but he didn’t bother. Inside the bag, he kept the medicine bottle he had received from Senior Yi during his early days at the Sect.

  Of course, the only robe he had, he wore. Shredded in a few spots and tight in others. He was growing well, at least he thought so. Good food helped him along the way when he could eat it. Not only beast meat, but herbs and plants growing in the bag.

  A sense of freedom filled him as he thought and moved under the moon in the night sky. He slipped into Seven Colored Steps, now appreciating the Technique more than ever. Eager to study the third stage, thinking it would now be easy to comprehend.