The sparse forest returned to its innate, deathly tranquility. All that remained was the rustling of the wind sweeping through the canopy and the miserable, feeble groans of the mountain bandits writhing in the dirt. The thick, metallic tang of fresh blood began to permeate the air, mingling with the scent of damp earth left by the torrential rain.
Tran Kien did not spare a single glance for the defeated. He gripped the matte black long saber in his hand, the fresh blood of his enemies still dripping from its edge, yet his gaze did not ripple in the slightest. He sheathed the saber onto his back, then turned and strode toward the two individuals he had just rescued.
The old escort leaned against a tree trunk, his complexion deathly pale. One hand clutched his bleeding arm, while the other still maintained a death grip on his sword. His eyes brimmed with wariness, yet he could not conceal the sheer astonishment in his gaze as he looked at Tran Kien. As for the young girl clad in azure robes, after her initial moment of shock, she had hastily scurried to the old man's side. Her large, limpid eyes stared at Tran Kien unblinkingly. Within that gaze lay gratitude and curiosity, but above all, a silent, scrutinizing evaluation.
"Are the two of you alright?" Tran Kien asked, his voice maintaining its unruffled serenity. He kept a safe distance, not daring to approach too closely. Although he had extended a helping hand, in this world of cultivation, the human heart was the most unfathomable thing of all. Absolute caution was never superfluous.
"M-Many thanks, young hero, for stepping forth to save us. This old man is Trinh Cong, and this is my granddaughter, Trinh Lam Vy. For today's life-saving grace, our Trinh Clan truly does not know how to repay you," the old man cupped his fist with great difficulty, his voice frail from the loss of blood.
"It was merely a matter of convenience," Tran Kien replied, his gaze sweeping over the wound on the old man's arm. The gash was quite deep; if the bleeding wasn't stanched in time, he feared it would leave hidden perils. "Elder, your wound requires immediate treatment."
Saying this, he turned and walked toward the edge of the forest. Seeing this, a sliver of vigilance arose in Lam Vy's heart. She hastily tightened her grip on her long whip and positioned herself firmly in front of her grandfather.
A moment later, Tran Kien returned, holding a handful of dark green leaves. He noticed the young girl's wary gaze but paid it no heed. Stepping over to a flat rock, he used the pommel of his saber to crush the leaves into a pulp.
"This is Dragonblood Grass. It possesses excellent properties for stanching blood and healing wounds," he stated, his tone as even as if he were explaining the most obvious truth in the world. "If you do not mind, Elder, apply this to the wound."
Trinh Cong looked at the mashed medicinal paste, then back at Tran Kien. He was a man of profound experience; a single glance told him this youth harbored no malicious intent. He gave a reassuring nod to his granddaughter. Only then did Lam Vy relax slightly, though her eyes never left Tran Kien.
Tran Kien placed the herbal paste onto a clean leaf and pushed it toward them.
"I harbor no ill will. I merely acted upon seeing injustice. Treat the wound; I will be taking my leave."
He had no desire to entangle himself too deeply. Saving lives stemmed from his original Dao heart, but traveling alongside strangers on this perilous road was an entirely different matter. With those words, he moved to turn and depart.
"Young hero, please halt your steps!" Lam Vy suddenly called out. Her voice was as clear as silver bells, yet it carried a resoluteness that belied her age. "You saved us; why depart in such a hurry? At the very least, shouldn't you allow our Trinh Clan the opportunity to repay your kindness?"
Tran Kien paused and turned his head to look at the young girl. Within those large, limpid eyes, beyond the stubbornness, he saw an unconcealed layer of anxiety. He instantly understood. The two of them, one old and one young, stranded in this desolate wilderness... Even though they had escaped the bandits, they were still in immense peril. They desperately needed an escort with sufficient strength to protect them.
"There is no need for repayment," he shook his head. "I am merely a passerby."
"You plan to head west, don't you?" Lam Vy asked abruptly.
Tran Kien's brows furrowed slightly.
Seeing him remain silent, Lam Vy pressed on, "I noticed you came from the east, carrying very little luggage. You are clearly a rogue cultivator out on a tempering journey. This western road is utterly desolate, teeming with demonic beasts and mountain bandits. We happen to be traveling to Lac Nam Town in the west to visit relatives. How about... we travel together? We can look out for one another."
This was no invitation; it was practically a plea.
Tran Kien remained silent. His mind was rapidly analyzing the situation. Traveling alone offered unbridled freedom, but it was also a path of profound solitude where he had to face every peril single-handedly. Traveling with them would tether him to new obligations and potentially attract further trouble, but he would have companions to converse with and mutual support. Furthermore, his senses told him that although this grandfather-granddaughter duo possessed mediocre cultivation bases, their bearing was far from ordinary. Their backgrounds were likely not simple.
Finally, he looked at Lam Vy's expectant gaze and the restless yet forcibly composed expression of Elder Trinh Cong. He couldn't help but recall his former self—equally solitary and helpless. A rare sliver of softness arose within his heart.
"Very well," he nodded. "But let me make this clear: I have my own matters to attend to. Once we reach Lac Nam Town, our paths will diverge."
Hearing this, Lam Vy's tense features instantly relaxed, blooming into a smile as radiant as a spring flower. "Deal! Then it is decided! Oh, right, we still haven't learned the esteemed name of our young hero?"
"This humble one's surname is Tran, given name Kien."
"Tran Kien..." Lam Vy murmured the name to herself, then let out a mischievous giggle. "A name that sounds incredibly steadfast and unyielding. Many thanks to Big Brother Tran for your assistance!"
After Elder Trinh Cong applied the medicinal paste to his wound, the color gradually returned to his face. The three of them tidied the scene slightly before resuming their journey. Tran Kien walked at the forefront to clear the path, while Lam Vy and the old man trailed behind with the horse-drawn carriage.
After traveling for a while, Lam Vy couldn't contain her curiosity and asked, "Big Brother Tran, that saber art you used just now was simply too formidable! It wasn't flashy in the slightest, yet every single stance was incredibly practical and overbearing. Which Sect's saber art is that?"
Tran Kien glanced at the matte black long saber on his back, a complex gleam flashing through his eyes.
"It does not belong to any Sect," he replied, his voice serene. "This saber art... I forged it myself within the furnace."
Hearing this, both Lam Vy and Trinh Cong were completely dumbfounded. They exchanged glances, their eyes brimming with sheer disbelief.
To personally create such a terrifying saber art? Just what kind of monstrous genius was this youth before them?
Tran Kien's inherently solitary journey now featured two unexpected companions. Little did he know that this chance encounter in the dew would introduce entirely unforeseeable variables to his path toward the Indigo Capital.