The sun dipped beneath the western ridge, painting the Green Spirit Fields in bruised shades of violet and crimson. The final bells of the labor shift had long since finished their tolling, and the Work Disciple Area had fallen into an eerie, heavy silence.
Hanyuan descended from the observation platform for the final time. His mission was officially over at dawn, but as he walked the narrow dirt path between the terraces, he felt a familiar prickle at the base of his neck. The sense of being watched, which he had been tracking for nearly an hour, finally sharpened into killing intent.
He stopped, the tip of his Spear resting lightly on the soil.
"You've been trailing me since the mid day bell," Hanyuan said, his voice flat and echoing in the twilight. "Come out. Or must I drag you from the bushes?"
A raspy, low chuckle emerged from a cluster of thick pines ten paces ahead. Four figures stepped out of the lengthening shadows, their movements coordinated to block the path.
At the center stood a man in his forties with barrel like shoulders and a face scarred by years of hard labor. Hanyuan recognized him,this was Captain Mao, the unofficial leader of the veteran work disciples. Beside him stood a lanky, sharp eyed old man and two younger, burly workers.
Hanyuan's obsidian eyes narrowed as he scanned their auras. One 7th Layer, three 6th Layers. Interesting.
"You've got sharp eyes for a brat," Captain Mao rumbled, a thick iron saber resting across his shoulder. "Relax, little brat" We don't want a bloodbath. We just know that the Sect gives you greenhorns far more than you need. Hand over your pouch of spirit stones, and you can walk back to your stone hut with your limbs intact."
One of the 6th layer disciples smirked, spinning a rusted hatchet. "Consider it a 'protection tax' for your two weeks here. You managed to find a lot of high quality herbs, didn't you?"
Hanyuan didn't reach for his pouch. Instead, his Qi began to circulate with a violent, icy hum.
"Someone like you," Hanyuan sneered, the air around him dropping in temperature, "doesn't deserve to call me brother. And you certainly don't deserve my stones."
Sou!
Without another word, Hanyuan lunged. He used a sliver of the Azure Cloud Footwork, appearing before Captain Mao in a blur.
"Too fast!" Mao roared, instinctively swinging his saber to parry.
CLANG!
The iron saber vibrated so violently upon impact that Mao's wrists let out a sickening pop. The sheer density of Hanyuan's frost Qi surged into the blade, turning Mao's fingers numb. He stumbled back, his eyes widening with genuine fear. "What is this strength?! You're only a 6th Layer!"
"Kill him! Take his arm!" Mao shrieked, his arrogance replaced by panic.
The three 6th layer disciples closed in from three sides. The lanky old man stabbed a jagged dagger toward Hanyuan's kidneys. Hanyuan didn't look back, he trusted his senses. He pivoted on his heel, his spear flashing like a serpent's tongue.
Sou! Sou! Sou!
Three rapid thrusts. The lanky old man managed to parry the first two with a scream of effort, but the third found its mark,Hanyuan's frost tipped blade pierced clean through the man's shoulder.
As the other two closed in, Hanyuan transitioned into his Spirit rank technique.
"Silver Crescent Horizon!"
He swept the spear in a massive horizontal arc. A razor sharp wave of translucent ice Qi erupted from the blue steel. The two 6th layer disciples tried to block with their Weapons, but the frost wave tore through it and their light leather armor, opening shallow but freezing gashes across their chests. They were blasted back five paces, their breath coming in white puffs as the cold entered their lungs.
Hanyuan didn't give Captain Mao a second chance to recover. He took a single, thunderous step forward, channeling His Qi.
"Star-Point Piercer!"
He thrust. The tip of the Cold Cloud Spear became a single point of blinding light.
BOOM!
The heavy iron saber of Captain Mao shattered into a dozen pieces as the focused Qi beam punched through it. The force carried through, striking the center of Mao's chest. The sound of ribs cracking rang out as the man was launched five meters through the air, crashing into an ancient banyan tree with a heavy thud.
The leader of the work disciples slumped to the ground, unconscious, his chest bruised a deep, icy purple.
Hanyuan lowered his spear, the frost runes slowly fading. The other three disciples were groaning in the dirt, clutching their wounds, their faces masks of disbelief and terror.
"The Sect told me to ensure nobody was slacking or stealing," Hanyuan said, wiping a single drop of Blood from his spear. "I suppose that includes trying to steal from me."
He didn't bother to kill them, the Elders would eventually find them, and their punishment as Work Disciples for attacking a True Disciple would be worse than death.
Hanyuan turned his back on them and walked away, his steps light and silent. As he headed toward the bridge of light, the silver moon rose over the mountain.