As dawn broke over the horizon, the first rays of light filtered through the misty morning air, casting a soft glow on the entrance to the cave. Tao, Gu, and Minho were already awake, and a quiet tension hung in the air. Shun still hadn’t returned, and his absence was a cause of mild concern. However, the members of the Thunder Sky Brotherhood held onto hope. They believed Shun had either managed to secure a ride down to the base of the Jing Mountains or found some way to avoid trouble, after all they had anticipated a few days' travel if he found a ride.
"If Shun got himself a ride, we’ll see him back in a week," Gu said, trying to reassure the others as he packed his gear. He meticulously folded the rope, checked the flints, and carefully wrapped their provisions. Today, he and Tao would be venturing into the depths of the tunnel to try and open the mysterious door.
Tao, who had been stirring a pot over a small fire, ladled some warm stew into a bowl and handed it to Minho. “Eat up, Minho,” she said, her tone soft but firm. “You’re not coming with us today, okay?”
Minho frowned, a hint of protest bubbling up in her chest. “But Sister Tao—” she began, her voice slightly pleading, but before she could finish, Gu stepped in.
“You’ve got an important job, Minho,” Gu said, kneeling down to her level. “You’re going to stay here and keep watch. If you see anyone trying to sneak into the cave, you need to run inside and warn us right away. Can you do that?”
Minho's eyes lit up, and she straightened her posture, nodding with a newfound sense of purpose. “Ah, okay! I can do that!” she said, her voice brimming with confidence. For once, she felt like she had been given a real, important role, and she was determined to do her best.
Gu smiled, his eyes softening. The truth was, they didn’t want to take Minho into the tunnel because of how easily distracted she could be. In the past, even when the Thunder Sky Brotherhood went out foraging, Minho’s curiosity would always get the better of her. She’d wander off to inspect a strange plant or chase after a butterfly, making it impossible for anyone to keep her on track. Yuan and Yang often had to tie a rope around her waist and attach it to Tao just to keep her from straying. The tunnel was far too dangerous for her unpredictable nature—full of unknown crevices, sheer drops, and possibly even venomous creatures. If she wandered off in there, it could mean serious trouble, and with just the two of them, they couldn’t afford to take that risk.
“Alright then, Sister Tao and I will be back in a few hours. Remember, stay inside, and don’t do anything reckless,” Gu said, his voice turning serious as he hoisted a small torch.
Minho pouted, puffing her cheeks in indignation. “I’m not a kid, Brother Gu! I know what to do!” She folded her arms but couldn’t help but smile a little when she saw the affection in Gu and Tao’s eyes. Ever since the tragedy that had befallen their group, The loss of so many of their companions had weighed heavily on all of them, but seeing her act so resolutely, even if just for a moment, gave them a small sense of hope. It felt like things were slowly starting to get better.
Gu and Tao shared a brief, reassuring glance before lighting their torches and disappearing into the dark, yawning mouth of the tunnel. The flickering orange glow of the flames quickly faded, swallowed by the shadows, until all that was left was the faint smell of smoke. Minho watched them go, waiting until their footsteps had completely faded before she hurried back to her small hut. She had her own plans for the morning—plans that she had been eagerly waiting to carry out.
Once inside, she crawled over to the dry hay bed and carefully pulled out a small bag she had hidden underneath. From the bag, she retrieved the [Smartphone]. Minho could hardly contain her excitement as she sat down on the hay, the device cradled in her hands.
“Alright, let’s see if I can make the magical [Video] work this time,” she murmured to herself, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. She had been trying to figure out how to play a [Video] ever since she first saw the moving images, and now, with Gu and Tao deep in the tunnel, it was the perfect time to experiment. She didn't have to worry about anyone hearing the sounds or catching her in the act.
Minho stared at the glowing screen, trying to remember exactly what she did last night to get to that page. After a few moments of fumbling and poking at the screen, she managed to retrace her steps. She typed “[Mandarin Basics]” into the search bar, just as she had before, and navigated to the same website where she had been reading about the basics of the language. Her heart skipped a beat as she waited for the familiar advertisement to pop up.
Sure enough, an ad appeared on the screen, showing a bright, cheerful slogan: “Why buy sugar when you can make it at home?” Minho’s fingers trembled as she clicked on it, and the [Smartphone] redirected her to the same page she had stumbled upon the previous night. With a deep breath, she tapped the large triangular button in the middle of the screen, her anticipation building.
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“Welcome back to my channel, everyone! Today, we’re making homemade sugar!” a cheerful woman’s voice chirped from the device. The woman on the screen was smiling brightly, her hands moving in expressive gestures as she spoke. To Minho, it was as if the woman was speaking directly to her, like a tiny person had been trapped inside the [Smartphone], offering to teach her a secret.
Minho’s eyes widened with amazement. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before. The way the woman’s lips moved, the way her voice resonated clearly—it was all so real, yet completely surreal. It was as if she was watching a tiny, enchanted human, a creature no bigger than her hand, delivering a lesson on a rare craft. She leaned in closer, fascinated by the way the images moved seamlessly, as if by magic.
The woman on the screen continued to explain the process of making sugar, her tone upbeat and enthusiastic. To Minho, it was almost impossible to believe. Sugar was a rare and valuable commodity, something that could only be bought from traders who ventured to The Frost Kingdom. And yet, this woman was casually demonstrating how to make it at home, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
Minho marveled at how easy it was to understand the spoken words. She had been struggling with the complex written characters, but hearing the language made it much simpler. “[Mandarin]” wasn’t so different from the Han language, she found herself catching on quickly. The more the woman spoke, the more Minho felt like she was understanding this strange new world, one word at a time.
The lesson on sugar-making continued, with the woman carefully explaining each step, and Minho watched in rapt attention, her mind brimming with questions and wonder.
Meanwhile, Shun awoke to the soft light of the morning filtering through the window of his unfamiliar room. Stretching, he rose and decided to explore his surroundings. Now that the sun was up, he could finally see where he had spent the night. Stepping outside, he took a leisurely walk around the grounds, trying to orient himself. The mansion was far grander than anything he had expected to find in the Jing Mountains—a sprawling estate with multiple detached buildings, likely accommodations for the staff of whoever owned the place.
As he wandered further, he stumbled upon a small training ground, neatly paved and open to the morning sun. There, two young people were sparring, their movements fluid and sharp, cutting through the air with precision. Shun's curiosity was piqued, and he moved closer, quietly observing the scene.
The first was a young man with a handsome, clean-cut appearance. His brown hair was tied back neatly, and he wore a crisp martial uniform that highlighted his athletic build. His demeanor was sharp and focused, but there was an ease to his movements, a natural grace. As he dodged and weaved, a confident smile played on his lips, suggesting he enjoyed the challenge. Opposite him was a young lady, likely around the same age, with dark hair that flowed freely as she moved. She wore a hanfu-style martial arts uniform with slits on the sides, allowing for ease of movement. Her face was set in deep concentration, eyes never leaving her opponent as she wielded her staff with practiced precision.
The young man moved with agility, deftly evading the staff's swift, precise strikes. Each time the staff came at him, he slipped past it with a fluid sidestep, his footwork immaculate. He retaliated quickly, but the young lady was just as swift, using graceful, almost dance-like movements to maintain distance, keeping herself poised to launch another attack at any moment.
To Shun, it was immediately clear that he was witnessing something rare—an exchange between two skilled martial artists who had been trained to a high level of proficiency. In the rough and rugged terrain of the Jing Mountains, most martial artists were self-taught or developed their skills through necessity, scraping together techniques learned from mercenaries, bandits, or in rare cases, traveling masters. But these two were different. Their movements were polished, precise, and disciplined, the kind of refinement that only came from a master’s teachings, possibly from one of the well-known martial sects.
Shun had seen plenty of fighters in his time, having joined countless raids and brawls, but what he was watching now was on a different level altogether. It wasn’t just about skill—it was about technique, form, and the sheer elegance with which the two moved. The young man was light on his feet, his stances steady yet flexible, allowing him to flow seamlessly from defense to offense. Meanwhile, the young lady was all poise and precision, her movements sharp yet controlled, every strike with the staff calculated and intentional.
At one point, the young lady shifted her grip on the staff, using it to push off the ground and launch herself into the air, aiming a swift kick at the young man’s chest. It was an impressive move, combining both agility and strength. Shun's eyes widened as he anticipated the impact, but the young man reacted just in time, rolling to the side and dodging the kick with a fluid motion. Yet, she didn't give him a moment to recover. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she spun the staff in her hands, aiming it right at him.
The young man had barely regained his stance when he saw the staff speeding toward his face. With remarkable composure, he caught it in his hands, halting the attack mid-swing. However, the young lady was quick to counter; in an instant, she wrapped her leg around the staff and pushed, leveraging the force to pull it free from his grip. The sudden maneuver forced the young man’s hands to jerk forward, and in an almost comedic turn of events, he ended up smacking his own face. The brief moment of surprise caused him to lose his hold on the staff entirely, and she took advantage of the opening, unwrapping her leg and gripping the staff tightly, charging at him once more.
But the young man was quick to adapt. As she closed in, he sidestepped, dodging her lunge with a swift pivot. With a calculated motion, he brought his hand down in a chopping strike, aimed at her exposed side. She tried to block, bringing her arm up in defense, but he managed to connect, albeit lightly. The strike wasn't enough to hurt, but it did disrupt her balance, forcing her to step back and put distance between them again.
They resumed their stances, the young lady positioning herself at a comfortable range, her staff at the ready. Meanwhile, the young man raised his arms, his muscles tense and prepared for the next exchange. Despite the intensity of their sparring, there was an unspoken respect between them, a mutual acknowledgment of each other’s skill.
From where he stood, Shun could barely contain his admiration. The techniques they were using—the swift footwork, the fluid transitions, the clever counters—were all hallmarks of refined martial arts, the kind that spoke of years of training under a seasoned master. He marveled at how easily they seemed to blend strength, speed, and strategy, each movement precise yet dynamic. In the wild, unpredictable world of the Jing Mountains, it was rare to see such artistry in combat. Most fights here were brutal, straightforward, and practical. But this was something else entirely—a display of finesse and discipline that made it look almost effortless.
Shun couldn't help but be captivated by the duel.