Tao and Jian moved forward, their steps slow but deliberate, their bodies bearing the scars of battle. Their robes, torn and bloodied, clung to their skin, damp with sweat and the grime of their journey.

  The dense foliage around them whispered with the sounds of unseen creatures. Birds long accustomed to the presence of predators fell silent as they passed. Even the insects seemed subdued, as if sensing the latent energy that clung to them, the residual pressure of their breakthroughs.

  Tao’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, the weight of it grounding him. Jian walked beside him, his gaze sharp and wary.

  They were close now. The end of the Wilds was near. Beyond the thinning treeline lay the boundary of the Verdant Dawn Sect, the first sliver of civilization they had seen in weeks. The boundary between lawlessness and the watchful eyes of the sect. But they knew better than to relax.

  The ambush came without warning.

  Figures stepped out from behind the trees, their presence smooth, practiced, calculated. Five of them, clad in the robes of the Verdant Dawn Sect. Their postures oozed confidence, the kind that came from knowing they outnumbered their prey.

  At their centre stood Yun Fei.

  His smirk was the same as always, dripping with arrogance, but his eyes held something darker, anticipation. He studied them with feigned surprise, but Tao saw the flicker of satisfaction beneath it.

  “You actually made it back,” Yun Fei said, tilting his head. “I thought the Wilds would have finished you off.” His gaze flicked over their battered forms, lingering on the filth clinging to their robes, the dried blood streaking their arms. “Then again, maybe it did.”

  Jian exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders. “Move.”

  Yun Fei let out a short laugh. “Move? That is the first thing you say?” He gestured lazily to his men. “You have returned from the Wilds, which means you must have found something valuable. You know how this works. Hand it over, and I will let you walk away.”

  Tao remained silent, but his gaze flickered toward the disciples surrounding them. Their hands rested on the hilts of their weapons, but their stances were relaxed. Overconfident. They believed this would be an easy fight.

  Jian let out a breathless chuckle. “I have had a very long week,” he said, stretching his fingers. “So I am only going to say this once. Move.”

  Yun Fei’s smirk widened. “And if I don’t?”

  Jian answered by drawing his sword.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The clearing exploded into motion.

  The first disciple lunged, but Jian was already moving. His blade swept upward, catching the attacker’s strike with a sharp clang before twisting into a fluid counter. The disciple barely had time to register the movement before Jian’s blade carved through his guard, cutting deep into his shoulder. A strangled cry left his lips as he staggered back, blood staining his robes.

  Another charged from the side, but Jian pivoted smoothly, sidestepping the thrust. His sword flashed again, cutting across the disciple’s ribs in a clean, precise motion. The man collapsed, clutching his side.

  Tao moved with the same ruthless efficiency.

  The moment his fingers brushed the earth, the ground trembled. Emerald vines burst from the soil, moving with unnatural speed. One disciple barely had time to react before the tendrils coiled around his legs, yanking him off his feet and slamming him into the dirt. Another swung his sword wildly, trying to sever the vines, but they moved too fast, twisting around his arm and wrenching his weapon from his grasp.

  Tao did not stop.

  He shifted his stance, pouring more Qi into the Emerald Vine Puppet Arts. The plants responded instantly, forming jagged spikes that lashed toward another attacker. The disciple managed to dodge the first strike, but the second found its mark, slamming into his chest and sending him sprawling.

  Jian met another attacker in a head on clash. Their swords met in a flurry of sparks, the force of the impact vibrating up his arm. His opponent was stronger than the others, his stance solid, his movements disciplined. But he was too slow.

  Jian feinted left, drawing the disciple’s guard, then twisted his blade at the last second, redirecting his strike downward. The momentary opening was all he needed. He drove his knee into the man’s gut, forcing the air from his lungs, then brought his sword’s hilt down on the back of his head. The disciple crumpled, unconscious before he hit the ground.

  The clearing fell silent.

  Yun Fei stood frozen, his smirk long gone. His lackeys lay groaning around him, their weapons scattered, their bodies broken. This was supposed to be an easy victory. He had been so sure.

  Jian rolled his shoulder, flicking the blood from his blade. He turned to Yun Fei, his expression unreadable. “Still in our way?”

  Yun Fei took a slow step back, his hands trembling at his sides. “You…” His voice faltered. His gaze flickered to Tao, then back to Jian, as if seeing them for the first time.

  Tao met his gaze, his voice calm. “Leave.”

  Yun Fei swallowed. His pride burned, his rage seethed, but he did not attack. He had seen enough. With a sharp turn, he stormed away, disappearing into the trees.

  But they were not alone.

  A presence lingered in the shadows, hidden among the foliage.

  Wei had watched everything.

  He had known this would happen. He had told Yun Fei long ago that if Tao and Jian survived the Wilds, they would no longer be the same weaklings they once were. But seeing it unfold with his own eyes was something else entirely.

  Tao’s technique had been seamless, his control over the vines terrifying in its precision. Jian’s swordsmanship had been sharp, unrelenting, every movement refined and lethal.

  They had returned as different people.

  Stronger. Dangerous.

  A slow, creeping realization curled around Wei’s heart, cold and bitter.

  Tao was not someone he could afford to underestimate anymore.

  And that terrified him.