Shadow flexed his wrists, feeling the loosened metal shift with a faint scrape. His dark eyes darted toward Rabbit, who gave a slight nod, his hands already free. Ears walked on the opposite side, his gate slowed, ready to explode. All three exchanged glances—brief, tense, but filled with understanding.

For days, they had been working silently to loosen their manacles, their bonds more suited to adult prisoners than boys. Their patience had finally paid off.

In the waning evening light, they were crossing the bridge into Ashen Hollow.

Ahead, the mercenaries bantered about the brothels they would visit and the drinking they would do. Dim, flickering torches created deep shadows at the center of the bridge. Shadow’s pulse quickened. This chance would not come again.

A sharp gust of wind swept over the bridge, making it sway and creak. Shadow’s eyes flicked to the edge of the bridge, a narrow span over a rushing river below. The current was strong enough to carry them far, but there would be no room for hesitation once they jumped.

He nodded once, and Rabbit and Ears followed his lead.

As the bridge swayed left, all three jumped over the side of the bridge while gripping the edge of the stone railing and dangled precariously above the rushing water. Shadow’s breathing was steady, his mind racing ahead to the next step. He let go, falling into the darkness below.

The icy shock of the water bit into his skin as he plunged into the river. The current yanked him violently downstream, but Shadow fought to the surface, his head breaking free with a desperate gasp. He squinted against the spray, his ears straining for the sounds of his friends. A few moments later, Ears emerged, coughing and sputtering, with Rabbit thrashing wildly beside him.

“Keep moving!” Shadow hissed, his voice barely audible over the roar of the river.

On top of the bridge, the mercenaries erupted into chaos.

Shouts of alarm pierced the night. The air above the bridge shimmered faintly, and Shadow caught sight of one of the guards activating a tracking talisman. Its glow expanded into the air like a pulse, a wave of energy spreading outward in search of the boys’ signatures.

“Down!” Shadow barked, plunging his head beneath the water. The river muffled the talisman’s searching pulse, energy skimming harmlessly over the surface. When he surfaced again, Rabbit and Ears were close, clinging to a broken piece of driftwood that bobbed in the current.

The mercenaries weren’t giving up.

Two leaped onto flying artifacts, their silhouettes gliding above the river like hawks circling prey. Their eyes glowed faintly with the sharp perception of cultivators, their auras rippling outward in search of the escapees.

Shadow’s jaw clenched as he pointed toward the far bank, staying low in the water to avoid detection. The cultivators’ energy swept over the river, probing the currents like invisible fingers. One paused, his gaze snapping to the water where Shadow and the others had been only moments before. Shadow’s heart thundered, but they had already drifted out of range, the river's roar masking their presence.

They reached the bank further downstream, scrambling onto the muddy shore as quietly as they could. Shadow hauled Rabbit onto the rocks, gripping his friend's shoulder as he gasped for breath. Ears collapsed beside them, his chest heaving.

For a moment, the only sounds were the rushing of the river and the faint hum of distant voices. But the reprieve was short-lived. One of the cultivators above had turned his attention downstream, his sword angling toward their position.

“They’re searching the banks,” Shadow whispered harshly, his eyes darting toward the tree line. “Split up. It’s the only way.”

“No!” Rabbit’s voice cracked as he grabbed Shadow’s arm. “I—I can’t—”

“You can,” Shadow said firmly, his grip tightening on Rabbit’s shoulder. “Meet in Tianshi. The Old Man’s kin will help. If you get caught, don't resist. They want us alive.”

Ears hesitated, his expression hardening. “And you?”

“I’ll go the opposite way,” Shadow replied, rising to his feet. “Go!”

Ears didn’t argue. He pulled Rabbit to his feet, his expression grim but resolute. Rabbit clung to him, his tear-streaked face twisted with fear, but he let himself be led toward the trees. Shadow watched them disappear into the darkness, his chest tightening with guilt and determination.

The cultivator’s energy swept closer, a sharp ripple of Qi cutting through the night. Shadow turned and bolted in the opposite direction, his bare feet pounding against the rocky ground. He didn’t dare look back, focusing instead on weaving through the underbrush, his movements silent and precise.

The cultivator’s energy pressed closer, his aura sharp and oppressive.

“Show yourself, boy,” the man snarled, his voice echoing through the forest. “You can’t hide from me.”

Shadow crouched lower, steadying his breathing and pulling in his aura like the old man had taught him.

He pressed himself against the dirt and waited until the man’s energy swept past. Then, silently, he slipped deeper into the forest, his movements as fluid as a shadow.

He didn’t stop until he reached higher ground, climbing a ridge that overlooked the river. From there, he could see the mercenaries’ torches bobbing in the distance, their shouts growing fainter as they split up to search. But it wasn’t the torches that held his attention.

Far below, near the riverbank, Ears and Rabbit had been caught.

Shadow’s breath came slow and steady as he crouched on the ridge, watching the scene below. Two mercenaries dragged them back toward the camp, their torches casting uneven shadows over the forest floor. Rabbit stumbled, earning a sharp cuff to the back of the head. Ears glared at his captors but didn’t struggle—he knew better.

His mind raced, weighing his options. Charging in now was useless—he was no match for them. The memory of the Old Man's lessons surfaced unbidden: Everyone has a weakness.

His gaze swept over the terrain below. The mercenaries were heading back toward the main group, their torches bobbing as they moved. Their attention wasn’t on their surroundings. If Shadow stayed hidden, he could follow them—wait until they stopped moving, until they made a mistake.

“I’ll find a way,” he murmured, his words lost to the wind.

----------------------------------------

Granny Xiu’s hooves thudded against the dirt road, a steady, unhurried rhythm that matched Jin Wu’s quiet demeanor. The wagon creaked along behind her, its wooden frame swaying with every bump. Jin Wu sat slouched in the driver’s seat; his wide-brimmed straw hat tilted low to shield his face from the late afternoon sun. To any observer, he was just another weary old peddler, indistinguishable from the countless others who traveled these roads.

But Jin Wu’s senses told a different story.

He had left the wave a few kilometers back, letting the wagon return to the ordinary pace of travel. Now, his Portent Art stretched outward, scanning the surroundings like a fisherman casting a net.

The energies carried faint traces of something subtle, like an old scent lingering on the wind. To most, this would have been nothing more than the natural ebb and flow of the world. But to Jin Wu, it was unmistakable. Ripples in the unseen currents brushed against the edge of his awareness, each whispering movement, emotion, and disturbance.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Someone familiar had passed this way.

He glanced ahead at the bridge, where the narrow road wound toward the town of Ashen Hollow. Its crooked rooftops peeked above the treetops, smoke curling lazily from chimneys. Faint voices carried on the breeze, blending with the sound of water rushing beneath the bridge.

A soft grunt from Granny Xiu pulled his focus back to the road. The mule’s ears twitched, and she tossed her head, clearly uneasy. Jin Wu patted her neck with a weathered hand. “Steady, old girl,” he murmured. “We’re almost there.”

The wagon creaked as it rolled onto the bridge. Jin Wu’s fingers tightened on the reins as the Flow around him shifted. Something had happened here. The disturbance wasn’t fresh, but it lingered, threading through the air like the faint scent of ash after a fire. He closed his eyes briefly, attuning himself to the subtle currents. They were frayed and uneven, like a torn net dragged through the water.

“Shen seeks harmony,” Old Yu had told him, “unless someone’s soul disturbs it.”

Jin Wu’s lips thinned. Whoever had crossed this bridge carried that kind of disturbance—grief, anger, or fear sharp enough to leave an imprint. He let his fingers relax on the reins, forcing his breathing to steady. Granny Xiu snorted, oblivious to the tension, her ears flicking toward the sound of rushing water below.

“Distress,” Jin Wu murmured. “Could it be…?”

The faintest flicker of hope stirred within him. Could it be his Ferrets?

The town square bustled with life. Merchants hawked their wares under brightly colored canopies, their voices cutting through the hum of villagers bartering for food, tools, and trinkets. Children darted around a weathered stone well, their laughter carrying on the breeze, while a long queue of townsfolk waited outside a noodle stall, their conversations rising and falling like the murmur of a distant stream.

Jin Wu guided his wagon to a shaded corner near the market’s edge; a spot just removed enough to avoid attention while still catching the occasional curious eye. Farmers shuffled by with sacks of grain, and an older woman eyed his wagon suspiciously before shuffling on.

To the untrained observer, Jin Wu was nothing more than a weary old peddler. But as he unrolled a faded cloth and began arranging his wares—jade talismans, dried herbs, and painted charms—his sharp gaze swept over the crowd. He wasn’t looking for customers. He was looking for answers.

Granny Xiu snorted softly and dipped her head into the bundle of hay Jin Wu had set out. The mule’s calm presence was a steady contrast to the faint unease tugging at his senses.

He had barely finished arranging his display when a shadow loomed over him. Jin Wu glanced up to find a tall, broad-shouldered man standing before him, arms crossed over his chest. The man’s tunic bore a stitched emblem—a hammer crossed with a wheat stalk—that marked him as a guild officer. His expression, however, bore none of the welcoming warmth that might accompany such a title.

“No permits, no sales,” the man said flatly, his tone brooking no argument. “We don’t allow outsiders to peddle here.”

Jin Wu straightened, leaning lightly on a cane that appeared in his hand as if by magic. He offered a tired smile belonging to a man too old to challenge anyone.

“Ah, honored Guild Master,” he said, his voice soft and apologetic. “Forgive me for intruding. I’m but a humble traveler hoping to earn enough for my next meal. Surely the guild can show a little kindness to an old man?”

The man’s scowl deepened, and he gestured toward the market square with a broad sweep of his arm. “Rules are rules, elder. The guild doesn’t make exceptions.”

Jin Wu’s eyes flicked to the man’s belt. Among the pouches and tools hung a crude wooden charm, its surface scratched and faded from overuse. A faint glint passed through Jin Wu’s eyes, though his face betrayed nothing but polite curiosity. He clasped his hands before him, tilting his head.

“That charm,” Jin Wu said, his voice thoughtful, “has served you well, but it’s seen better days. Luck isn’t something to take for granted, Guild Master.”

The man’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t interrupt as Jin Wu continued.

“Just three days ago,” Jin Wu said, shaking his head with a faint air of regret, “the Guild Master of Ironpine tripped, fell down a flight of stairs, and broke his arm. He’d been wearing an old, worn-out charm just like that one.”

He gestured toward the charm. “May I take a look? With your permission, of course.”

The Guild Master frowned, his suspicion warring with curiosity. After a moment’s hesitation, he unhooked the charm from his belt and handed it to Jin Wu.

Jin Wu held the charm delicately, closing his eyes as though listening to something only he could hear. He muttered a nonsensical string of sutras under his breath, his free hand tracing meaningless sigils in the air. Then he opened his eyes with a faint sigh of regret.

“Just as I thought,” he said, returning the charm with a grave nod. “Its energy has run dry. You’re carrying an empty vessel.”

The Guild Master’s frown deepened as he tucked the charm back onto his belt, clearly unsettled. Jin Wu took the opportunity to reach into his sleeve, producing a small jade talisman. Unlike the trinkets he displayed for sale, this one shimmered faintly with a subtle warmth, its polished surface imbued with just enough Shen to make its presence felt—even to a mortal.

“Perhaps,” Jin Wu said, his tone soft yet confident, “I can offer a replacement. This heaven-grade luck charm is one of a kind. Its twin sold for two gold taels in Ironwood just last month.” He paused, letting the statement hang in the air. “But for you, honored Guild Master, I’d part with it for one gold tael… and, perhaps, a small permit to set up shop for the day.”

The Guild Master’s gaze lingered on the jade talisman, his expression torn between skepticism and desire. The faint hum of energy emanating from the charm was impossible to ignore. Finally, with a gruff nod, he snatched the talisman from Jin Wu’s hand and tucked it into his pocket.

“Fine,” he muttered. “You can stay—for today. But only today.”

Jin Wu bowed deeply, his expression one of gratitude. “Many thanks, honored Guild Master. May fortune smile upon your ventures.”

As the man strode away, Jin Wu straightened and adjusted his hat, the faintest smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Granny Xiu flicked her ears, munching contentedly on her hay.

“Always a pleasure to do business,” Jin Wu murmured, resuming the arrangement of his wares.

By sundown, Jin Wu had sold enough talismans and herbs to fill his purse with a respectable sum of silver. It wasn’t only about the silver—though Jin Wu was never one to pass up the chance to earn a few more taels—it was the whispers that came with it.

“They came through here four days ago,” one farmer muttered as he inspected a charm. “A whole group of them, mercenaries. Nasty-looking bunch.”

“Had slaves with them,” another added, lowering his voice. “Two were captured after they ran. Poor souls. One drowned in the river, or so they said.”

Jin Wu’s fingers stilled as he handed a talisman to a young woman. His expression remained calm, but his thoughts raced. Two captured, one drowned. He doubted the story was entirely true. They had to be disciples.

Later, as he sat at the edge of the market eating a steamed bun, he listened to a conversation.

“They’re heading to Ironclad Peak,” a trader said to his companion, his voice low. “That’s their main camp.” He had heard this piece of news at least five times.

Jin Wu bit into his bun, his gaze steady as he listened. In other towns, there had been nothing, yet here, everyone seemed to know the mercenary's plans.

The pieces fit together too neatly and too quickly. Are they leaving a deliberate trail?

If everyone knows your enemy’s plans, Sergeant Fong had once said, then he probably told them.

The following day, Jin Wu guided his wagon out of Ashen Hollow. The road stretched ahead, bathed in the morning sunlight. Granny Xiu plodded along without complaint, her ears flicking at the occasional rustle of leaves. Jin Wu sat hunched in the driver’s seat, his straw hat pulled low over his eyes.

But his senses were sharp. The Shen around him rippled faintly—a subtle disturbance. He didn’t turn around or quicken his pace. Only smirked.

Someone was following him.

The presence wasn’t strong—likely a cultivator of middling skill—but their movements were deliberate, their aura masked. Jin Wu’s lips curved into a faint smile. “They think they’re being clever,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the creak of the wagon.

Granny Xiu snorted as if in agreement.

Jin Wu flicked the reins and started to whistle an old army tune, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.