A week later, the Herb Peak disciples were herded into the main square, buzzing with a nervous energy. Overseer Zhang, a man with a face like a dried persimmon, stood before them.
"The Mystic Herb Valley trial begins at dawn," he announced, his voice cracking through the morning chill. "Your task: find and return with one stalk of Moonshade Grass. Succeed, and you keep your place. Fail, and you will be assigned to permanent latrine duty."
A collective gulp went through the crowd. Zhao Ba cracked his knuckles, a predatory grin on his face. He wouldn't just be finding his own grass; he'd be "confiscating" the finds of others.
As they marched into the mist-wreathed valley, the air grew thick with the scent of a thousand spiritual plants, a chaotic perfume that was both invigorating and overwhelming. Disciples scattered like startled rabbits, their eyes desperately scanning the forest floor.
Ye Xingliu simply closed his eyes.
He let his Life Sensing unfurl, a silken net cast over the vibrant, noisy ecosystem. He felt the frantic scurrying of spirit-mice, the patient, photosynthetic hum of ancient trees, the aggressive thorns of a Snare-vine. And then, he found it. A cluster of subtle, cool rhythms, like moonlight given sound. Moonshade Grass.
He opened his eyes and moved, not with frantic haste, but with the quiet purpose of a hunter. Feng Shui'er fell into step beside him, her presence as natural as the mist.
"You've found some, haven't you?" she whispered, her shifting eyes gleaming.
"The good ones are never unguarded," he murmured back.
He led her to a small, shadowy clearing where several stalks of Moonshade Grass grew, their leaves the colour of polished silver. But coiled around their roots was a creature the size of a large dog—a Jade Horned Toad. Its mottled green skin was like polished stone, and a single, crystalline horn protruded from its brow, pulsing with a dull, poisonous light. It was a low-level spirit beast, but for an untrained outer disciple, it was a death sentence.
"Ah," Shui'er said. "The guardian."
From behind a tree, Zhao Ba and his two cronies emerged, having followed them. "Well, well," Zhao Ba sneered. "The joker found the motherlode. And he brought a toad to the party. Get lost. This is ours now."
Ye Xingliu ignored him. His focus was on the Toad. He could feel its life rhythm—a slow, powerful, patient beat, with a core of venomous energy centered in its horn. He also felt a tiny, almost imperceptible fluctuation in that rhythm every time the Toad blinked its nictitating membranes.
"Shui'er," Ye Xingliu said quietly. "A distraction. A small gust, right in its face."
Shui'er grinned. With a flick of her wrist, a sudden, localized wind kicked up a spray of leaves and dirt directly into the Toad's face.
The beast blinked in annoyance. In that split second, as its rhythm stuttered, Ye Xingliu moved.
It wasn't the full, chiming Comet Fist. That was for breaking bamboo, not beasts. This was a modified, precise version. He didn't put his whole body into it; he put his intent. His fist, wrapped in the cool energy of starlight, shot forward in that same, slightly curved, unpredictable path. He didn't aim for the horn or the tough hide. He aimed for the soft spot just below its jaw.
Thwump.
The impact made a sound like a damp drum. It wasn't meant to kill. It was a targeted shock, a vibration of pure, stunning force that traveled directly into the Toad's nervous system. The beast let out a choked croak, its eyes rolling back as it staggered sideways, momentarily paralyzed.
Ye Xingliu didn't pause. He darted forward, plucked three of the finest stalks of Moonshade Grass, and was back at the clearing's edge before the Toad had finished shaking its head.
Zhao Ba and his cronies stood frozen, mouths agape.
Ye Xingliu tossed one of the precious stalks to Shui'er, then turned to the three bullies. He wasn't smiling. "The Toad will recover in a minute. You can try your luck then. Or," he said, his gaze sweeping over to a pair of smaller, terrified disciples hiding behind a rock—the ones Zhao Ba had been bullying relentlessly. He walked over and handed each of them one of his remaining stalks.
"You... you're giving this to us?" one stammered, their eyes wide.
"The road is long," Ye Xingliu said, his voice quiet but firm. "It's better to walk it with friends than with slaves."
He turned his back on the sputtering, furious Zhao Ba and began to walk away, Shui'er falling in beside him with a look of pure admiration.
"Not bad, Star-eyes," she said. "You fight like you tell jokes. They never see it coming."
From his pocket, Little Comet buzzed with approval. "And you didn't even have to kill it! Very eco-friendly! Plus, the Toad's confusion tastes delicious."
Ye Xingliu looked at the compass, which had grown warm during the encounter.
Mortal Awakening – 7%
He hadn't just passed the trial. He had walked his own path through it, leaving behind not defeated enemies, but awed allies and a very confused toad. For the Wanderer, that was the only victory that mattered.