Mount Silentspring is a relatively easy mountain to hike, as long as one travels up it. When climbing the mountain, the hiker is met with gentle slopes and shallow inclines with sturdy, stable rocks that almost seem to lend extra support to every step. The trees provide shade and the air is crisp and clear. All in all, a pleasant experience by all reckoning of the word.

  When travelling down, however, the Silentspring can be quite capricious towards its guests. The closer one gets to either of the Steamy Rivers cutting through the twin valleys, the thicker the mist grows until it turns into this dense, all-concealing mire of fog and steam. On bad days, in Spring especially, it gets so thick you can't even see the ground you're stepping on

  As such, the few dozen or so villages and small towns that populate the fertile banks of the winding Steamy Rivers are situated at the highest points they can manage. While this often isn't enough to escape the fog entirely, it is enough to avoid the worst of the springtime boiling season.

  When the thaw comes and the glaciers retreat from the great mountain ranges of the north, the surge of meltwater supercharges the Steamy River's naturally hot waters until it reaches near boiling temperatures. As the largely agrarian villages have to plant in spring if they hope to survive the next winter, they are forced to wait until nightfall—when the waters are generally cool enough to not produce boiling hot steam—in order to see to their work. When the morning comes, the farmers turn homeward to repeat it all again the following night.

  So when Ren, Zhurong, and Tally pass by an empty village full of discarded tools—while journeying to Zhurong's Fortress on the eastern side of the Miststep Valley—in the middle of the day, they stop to take in the odd sight.

  "It's... Deserted," Ren says as the creaking of a door fills the air. He shakes his head at the sight of a swinging door, the odd architecture of the Valleymen continuing to convince him of the superiority of Riverfolk sliding doors. No hinges, no creaks!

  "Monsters, I'd guess," Zhurong says as she nudges a red-eye frog—a curious species of local amphibian that absorb all their needed moisture from the steam, the process of which vaguely resembles certain herb smokers—away from her boot, "They've been coming down the mountain in droves, after all."

  Ren frowns, the expression carving deep lines on his face as concern mixed with shame spikes him through the chest. There are people in danger and here he is judging them for their architecture!

  Tally gulps, his prominent larynx dancing up and down his throat like a fisherman's bobber. He clutches at the several talismans dangling from his neck, each a lesser copy of the gingko's guardian. While stacking talismans does nothing to improve the effects, he still seems to find comfort in it.

  Zhurong snorts, "There aren't any monsters left, not here anyways." She makes a big show of sniffing the air, nostrils flaring with every inhale as something prickles against Ren's dormant qi senses, "Yep, no monsters here." A slight frown creases her lips as her brows furrow, "Well, actually, hold on..."

  She pauses, eyes narrowing as she pivots on her heel, "Rou Ren," she says, using both Ren's generation and given name, as is only proper for a teacher to do, "What is wrong with this village?"

  Ren frowns, brows furrowing as his eyes run over the village once again. Rice paddies cling around the base of the hill upon which the majority of buildings rest. The buildings look to be well-maintained, like they had seen recent attention and repair. Tools, in good condition, lie scattered in the water and around the streets. Through open windows, Ren spies half-eaten meals still sitting pristine on plates and tables. This village was quickly abandoned, the villagers weren't expecting to need to leave as quickly as they did.

  A monster attack would certainly do that to a village, and yet... Where are the bloodstains? Where is the damage to the buildings? Such attacks usually bring fires in their wake, from untended hearths igniting whatever falls into range of flying sparks, but nothing even hints at such a fate. No ash, no embers, and certainly no fires.

  So, if it wasn't a monster attack, could it have been bandits? No, the same reasoning applies to them, too. If neither monsters nor bandits drove them away, why did the villagers abandon their homes?

  To leave their tools where they fell speaks of hurried flight, of panic and terror. Such tools are expensive, often passed down from father to son over the course of generations. The average mortal lacks the funds to easily replace lost equipment. And not only that, but the spirits of their ancestors often linger behind in inherited tools, providing strength and luck to one's efforts. To leave them behind like this is an insult to one's entire ancestry and would likely doom whatever poor fool was responsible.

  "No evidence of disaster, yet the tools are scattered about as if there was some panicked flight," Ren eventually says, explaining his thought process to Zhurong as he does.

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  Zhurong lifts a brow, "You gathered all that just from your eyeballs?" She whistles and nods, "But, what about the totem beast? Every village has one, yeah? So, where's it at?"

  The totem beast... Usually, a totem beast resides in a shrine near the heart of a village. Fed and worshipped by the villagers, totem beasts have an obligation to protect them from threats mortals cannot deal with, such as cultivators or monsters. Most totem beasts take this duty seriously and will die to give their villagers time to escape any threat the beast cannot handle.

  But, once again, no signs of battle. No bloodshed, no craters, no nothing. The shrine is empty, too, meaning that either this village didn't have a totem beast—presumably because their old one reached the end of its life—or the beast left with the villagers.

  Zhurong listens quietly as Ren gives his report, a small smile steadily growing on her face, "That's all well and good, but why don't you reach out with your qi? Eyeballs and thinking'll only get you so far, you know."

  Ren frowns, but does as asked. Bracing himself for the coming overload, he takes a deep breath and opens his third eye... Only to immediately slam it shut, heavy gasps leaving his throat as he staggers, golden energy searing itself into his mind's eye.

  Zhurong folds her arms and gives Ren a long look, a gleam of good humor in her gaze, "You okay there? You know how to reach out with your senses, right?"

  "I-I do, yes," Ren says through a haggard cough, his chest feeling tight, "It's just that your Golden Core keeps overwhelming me."

  In an instant, three things happen. Tally stiffens, shock and awe spilling from his open mouth as he looks to Zhurong; her eyes lose their light, the face of death lurking beyond an empty stare; and, an iron grip tightens around Ren's throat, his back slamming against the ground.

  Zhurong's hand presses against Ren's throat, fingers bloodlessly pushing through skin to firmly grip his esophagus. Her off-hand points at Tally, the weight of her spirit forcing him to his knees yet leaving Ren untouched, "Twitch and die."

  Tally stays absolutely still, not even allowing himself to breathe. Zhurong nods, her dead eyes never leaving Ren's for an instant yet somehow he knows that her attention only now focuses on him, "How do you know I have a Golden Core?"

  The sloppy, somewhat slovenly way of speaking is gone. Her words are flat, monotone, and devoid of any hint of emotion. There is no hesitation in her eyes, nothing at all. She, as far as Ren can perceive, is an empty husk of a person, inhabited solely by the specter of death.

  "I," Ren chokes out, his voice wet yet raspy. Her grip leaves him enough room to draw breath, but only just, "Nobody did, I sensed it."

  "Impossible," her grip tightens ever-so-slightly, "it would take strength beyond a Golden Core to pierce my aura suppressing techniques."

  "I can sense it," Ren scowls, gritting his teeth as anger wells within. He gave himself to her, balanced on the very edge of breaking his oaths, and this is how she repays him? Fine! If that's how she wants to play, then so be it, "And if you think I'm lying, then you should just kill me now!"

  Death stays silent, time slowing to a trickle, as Tally's face turns purple. Eventually, a hint of emotion crawls into those eyes, a small semblance of feeling in her voice as she speaks, "Say I believe you." She tilts her head to Tally, "Him, I need. Him, I have scared stiff. You?" She releases her grip as she steps back, her hand falling to the sword at her waist, "I have known you for two days, so you have two chances to explain to me why I should not kill you."

  Ren's fate now balances on the edge of Zhurong's sword. One misstep, and it's over. A bead of sweat joins its brothers at the back of his neck, a trail of siblings leaking down his brow. He needs to think, to consi-

  "You said you needed cultivators," Ren says, eyes widening with surprise, as stress forces the first thought from his mouth, "and I am one."

  "I need secrecy more," Death returns, drawing the sword, "One more chance."

  Ren bites his tongue, his breathing quickening as fury twists tight in his chest. So, so damn helpless... He couldn't save the woman from the flames, he couldn't even give Chen his proper burial. He nearly burnt the bridge that saved his life, repaying that kindness with service to bandits, and he can't even stop himself from blurting out the first damn thought that comes to mind!

  So fuck it. If he's going to die, he does it on his terms.

  Ren takes a step forward, meeting the eyes of Death head on, "My name is Shang Rou Ren. I am the son of a farmer and a nurse practitioner and I have two older brothers." Another step brings him closer, his stare never faltering in an instant, "Immediately after I unlocked my cultivation, I survived the fall of a sect. A day later, I killed one of the monsters responsible. Four days after that, I fought a verbal duel with a Golden Core cultivator to a stalemate. While I was heavily wounded from the aforementioned battle with the monster." He takes another step, nearly face-to-face with Death. "Apparently, my six-day-old senses are able to pierce the concealment techniques of a cultivator many, many times my superior. I did all of that in only a handful of days, so just think about how strong I could get if I had more time."

  Ren glares into the eyes of Death, daring it to make the first move. "If that's not a good enough reason for me to live, then just fucking get it over with already, you damned coward."

  A burst of starlight forces a blink from Zhurong's eyes. Stumbling back, she lets the sword fall, the tip touching the ground, "Fucking Heavens above, kid, fucking Hells below," she swears as she shakes her head, a laugh slipping free from her lips, "a monster, really? How the hell did you manage that?"

  Ren pauses, curled lips frozen in a glower, the sudden whiplash leaving him nearly woozy, "With a rock."

  Zhurong stares, brows lifting high, only for a sudden collapse to break her incredulity. Tally lies against the ground, fainted from lack of air.