Saturday came again, quiet and cold.
Mo Chen stood at the edge of the outer forest with a scabbard at his back and a small pouch of darts tied at his waist. The trees ahead were
thick enough to block most of the sunlight, and the ground was covered with dry leaves that rustled softly under each step.
He stopped once, took a slow breath, and let his spirit power settle.
Inhale.
Hold.
Exhale.
His breathing had become natural now. Not a technique he had to force, but a rhythm the body remembered.
He moved forward.
The forest was not deep enough to be dangerous to a prepared student, but it was still alive with spirit beasts, insects, and hidden movement. Mo
Chen did not rush. He listened.
A faint sound came from his left.
A branch snapped.
He turned slowly.
A grey wolfi-like spirit beast stepped out from behind a bush. Its body was lean, its eyes sharp, and its legs were built fior speed. It was not large, but
the way it lowered its head showed it was ready to attack.
Mo Chen did not retreat.
He slid one foot back and reached for a dart.
The beast sprang first.
Fast.
Mo Chen's eyes narrowed.
He flicked his wrist.
The dart shot out.
Not at the beast's body.
At the ground in front of its path.
Thak!
The wooden dart struck the earth and bounced, forcing the beast to shift its line.
That small change was enough.
Mo Chen stepped sideways.
Fourth Form: Wind Step.
His body moved lightly across the leaves, almost without sound. The beast passed where he had been a moment befiore, claws cutting empty air.
Mo Chen drew his sword.
The metal blade was simple, practical, and straight. Not elegant. Not grand. But balanced.
The beast turned quickly and launched again.
Mo Chen met it with his breath.
First Form: Swift Gale Slash.
The sword cut forward in a fast, clean line. A faint trail of air followed the blade.
The beast twisted and avoided the full strike, but the slash still grazed its shoulder. It barked sharply and backed away, eyes turning cautious now.
Mo Chen did not chase.
He watched.
Then he stepped again.
A second dart left his hand.
The beast shifted left to dodge.
That was exactly what Mo Chen wanted.
Its movement had become predictable.
He moved in.
Second Form: Rising Wind.
The sword rose from below in an upward arc. The beast's front claws came down to block, but the pressure ofi the strike pushed it off balance.
Mo Chen kept the pace steady.
He did not waste the opening.
Fifth Form: Twin Gale.
Two slashes came one after the other in a single breath cycle.
The first cut forced the beast back.
The second struck its flank.
The spirit beast snarled in pain and tried to retreat deeper into the forest, but Mo Chen was already moving.
His breathing stayed calm.
His body stayed light.
Third Form: Falling Tempest.
He raised the sword high and brought it down with full body force, using the breath release to drive the strike.
The blade hit hard.
The beast collapsed into the leaves.
Silence returned to the forest.
Mo Chen stood still fior a few seconds, breathing evenly.
He walked forward carefully, checked the beast's condition, and confirmed it was no longer a threat.
Then he bent down and picked up his dart.
"Control first," he murmured.
His sword returned to the scabbard.
The hunt was over.
But the lesson remained.
His dart training had worked.
His sword forms had worked.
Most importantly, he had not lost control.
That was enough for today.collect herb with recovery properties, the kind that could be processed into a simple healing paste if mixed correctly.
My pharmacy knowledge made the work easier. I did not need to guess blindly. I only needed to match shape, scent, and growth pattern to what I
remembered from the library notes.By the time I returned home, my pouch held herbs and my mind held another successful lesson.
That night, I ground the plants, boiled them, and prepared a basic recovery medicine.
Not perfect.
But useful.
The first batch of recovery paste sat quietly in a small clay bowl while I looked at it with a faint smile. My path was becoming clearer.