My head jolted off the wall where I’d been leaning, snapping me awake.

  I blinked, disoriented for a moment, before remembering where I was. Still sitting in the chair beside Wei Lin’s bed. My body was stiff, my muscles sore. I twisted my neck carefully, feeling the pull of stitches at the back. I wasn’t meant to fall asleep here but exhaustion had clearly won that battle.

  I rubbed the grit from my eyes, the wooden chair creaking as I shifted. I decided to do what I was supposed to last night.

  I called on my system and it responded.

  Qi absorbed.

  System sync in progress…

  Stat Increased

  Spirit: 16 → 18

  Constitution: 15 → 16

  Agility: 10 → 11

  Progress: Mortal 4/10 → 6/10

  I stiffened slightly.

  Two full tiers. Another chunk of my body reforged by Qi. I could feel it too. The more I progressed, the more the Qi was changing me, making everything feel sharper, tighter, stronger. Building in me, waiting for something I was unaware of.

  I exhaled slowly and reached inward, pulling up my full status sheet.

  Status

  Name: Ethan Ward

  Cultivation: Mortal – 6/10

  Titles:

  ? Diligence’s Chosen

  ? Otherworlder

  Skills:

  ? Last Stand

  Stats:

  Strength: 11

  Agility: 11

  Constitution: 16

  Spirit: 18

  I stared at it for a long moment, a strange feeling twisting in my gut. I needed to max out my cultivation. And I had a feeling there would be plenty of opportunity to in the next few days. Especially if my injuries were healing as fast as I felt they were.

  A commotion interrupted me, snapping me away from the system window still hovering faintly at the edge of my vision.

  Loud shouting. Sharp enough to cut through the morning haze.

  I pushed myself up from the chair too fast.

  Pain lanced through my side, sharp and punishing. I gritted my teeth, cursing under my breath. Dumb move.

  Still, I staggered to the front door and pushed it open.

  The air outside was thick and heavy. A cluster of villagers had gathered at the edge of the square, voices rising in a low, chaotic hum. I spotted Master Kai immediately. He was in the center of it all, sleeves rolled up, snapping orders like he was on a battlefield.

  Two hunters sat slumped at his feet, battered and bloodied.

  I moved forward, weaving between the crowd, I needed to know what was happening.

  As I got closer, I caught the tail end of the hunter’s frantic explanation.

  “We went out to check the southern traps,” he panted. “Us and the others. Normal rounds. Then—then they came.”

  Master Kai knelt, binding the wounded man’s leg with swift, efficient hands. “What came?”

  The man swallowed hard, his face pale.

  “Beasts,” he said. “Not just one. A mix. Packs of them. Too many. We didn’t stand a chance. We ran… we ran back as fast as we could—”

  A sharp bark of laughter escaped his companion, half delirious. “Would’ve been meat if old Garen didn’t trip that ridge snare on the way back.”

  The other hunter muttered darkly under his breath, voice thick with exhaustion, “And we’re being chased. Bet my good arm on it.”

  The words struck the crowd like a hammer blow.

  People stiffened. Some clutched their tools tighter. Others exchanged quick, fearful glances.

  Elder Tian pushed his way through the gathering crowd, his scarred face thunderous.

  “Enough!” he barked. His voice cracked across the square like a whip.

  He stood there, robe flaring slightly with the breeze, arms folded tightly across his chest.

  “You heard them.” he said. His gaze swept over the villagers like a blade. “This is no time to be standing around.”

  He turned, barking sharp orders to those closest.

  “Barricade the gate. Get the paddies cleared. And you lot—” he jabbed a finger toward a cluster of older hunters still lingering on the fringes “—arm yourselves. And arm everyone you can.”

  “Spirits above,” a farmer muttered beside me. I turned and looked at him. It was the same farmer from yesterday. “It’s happening again.”

  The small village turned into organized chaos.

  The young and the elderly were ushered toward the Fallen Mist Sect building, a long procession of wide-eyed children and hunched grandparents, clutching what few belongings they could carry. The rest of the villagers, anyone who could still swing a hammer or lift a board, scattered across the square, reinforcing barricades, dragging carts into chokepoints, hammering makeshift planks across weak spots in the fence line.

  I stood on the porch, feeling useless.

  My hand itched for a weapon.

  The sun hung low, painting the fields in burnt gold. Shadows stretched long across the road. Every snapped branch or distant rustle made heads jerk around.

  I squinted toward the treeline, scanning the fields past the broken paddies.

  Movement caught my eye.

  A white silhouette, low to the ground, moving with slow, predatory grace just at the edge of the trees. I narrowed my gaze, catching a glimpse of its long, misty tail before it slipped back into the undergrowth like a ghost.

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  I tensed, my hand instinctively clenching into a fist.

  A breath brushed my shoulder.

  I turned slightly.

  Master Kai had moved up beside me at some point, standing quiet, arms folded.

  His sharp eyes followed my line of sight.

  “You saw it too?” he asked, voice low.

  I nodded once.

  Kai’s mouth tightened. His weathered hands flexed at his sides.

  “Mistfang Hound,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Bloody spirits.”

  He spat off to the side.

  I glanced at him sharply. “You know what they are?”

  He nodded grimly. “Old breed. They were used during the Sect Wars, back in the days when the sects tamed beasts for battle. Not many wild ones left anymore. But the ones that are…” He shook his head. “They’re scouts. If they’re sniffing around the village… the rest aren’t far behind.”

  I swallowed hard.

  Kai clapped a hand on my shoulder and then turned back toward the clinic.

  A few moments later he reappeared, carrying something wrapped loosely in a cloth.

  He tossed it toward me.

  I caught it reflexively.

  It was my sabre.

  Still scratched. Still bloodstained. But intact.

  “You’re going to need that again,” Master Kai said, his voice heavy. “Sooner rather than later.”

  He met my gaze for a long, grim heartbeat. Before heading off to do whatever the only healer in the village does.

  The day dragged on.

  The sun slipped lower, casting long shadows that crept along the floorboards of the clinic. I used the time to rest. What little rest I could manage.

  Fi Yan sat stubbornly beside my bed, swinging her legs back and forth like she had nowhere better to be.

  Apparently, the sect building was too stuffy with “old farts,” in her words.

  I knew I should’ve told her to go back up there. That it wasn’t safe down here. That she’d be better off surrounded by thick walls and as many able bodies as possible.

  But the words stuck in my throat.

  In some twisted way, she reminded me of myself at her age. Always ready to fight the world with nothing but a stubborn will. Always eager to challenge anything that moved. It was that same reckless spark that kept me and Elise alive back home. I loved it and hated it at the same time. Because it was the same reckless spark that had landed me here. Away from everything I knew.

  Fi Yan picked at a loose thread on her sleeve, unusually quiet for once.

  Then, in a voice small, she asked, “We’re gonna be okay, right?”

  I looked at her.

  At her crooked little buns and smudged cheeks. At the kid who thought taming giant toads was a reasonable life goal.

  And I made another promise I wasn’t sure I could keep.

  “We’ll be fine,” I said. “I’ll protect you.”

  Her shoulders loosened.

  She smiled, a small, tired thing and for a moment, she looked far older than ten.

  I couldn’t let that sit.

  So I reached for the first thing that came to mind.

  “How about another one of your adventures?” I asked, forcing some lightness into my voice. “You said you had a thousand, right?”

  Her face lit up immediately, all traces of fear forgotten.

  “I’ve got a thousand and five!” she declared proudly. “Wanna hear about the time I tried to catch a thunder eel with nothing but a bamboo pole and a bucket?”

  I leaned back against the pillow, closing my eyes with a tired huff of breath.

  “Sure,” I said. “Hit me with your best one.”

  She launched into the story with all the enthusiasm in the world, her words tumbling over each other faster than her mouth could keep up.

  When she finally wound down her story. Something about getting chased out of Madam Shen’s garden by an “angry spirit goose” I leaned back with a tired chuckle and fished around inside my robe.

  Somehow, miraculously, when they’d gone to salvage what they could from the wreckage of the cabin, someone had thought to grab our weapons… and my phone.

  It was half-cracked, the screen spiderwebbed at the corners, but still intact.

  A little piece of Earth. Of home.

  I turned it over in my hands for a second, thumb brushing over the worn case.

  Then I popped the back open and fished out one of the old wireless earpieces tucked inside.

  Fi Yan watched with growing curiosity, her head tilting slightly like a bird watching a shiny rock.

  I held out the earpiece.

  “Put this in your ear,” I said, grinning a little. “You’re about to experience real magic.”

  She hesitated, just for a breath, then snatched it from my hand and jammed it into her ear without question.

  I chuckled and scrolled through my cracked playlist.

  Found the one I was looking for.

  Sticky Fingers — How to Fly.

  Home.

  The opening chords hit, rough and mellow, crackling slightly through the battered speakers. A lazy, wandering melody poured into the quiet room, carrying with it memories of a city a world away. Long nights and fun memories. The kind of simple freedom I hadn’t felt in what seemed like a lifetime.

  I watched Fi Yan carefully, waiting for her reaction.

  At first, she just blinked.

  Then her eyes widened.

  Her mouth opened slightly, then closed again.

  She sat there, frozen, as the music wrapped around her, head cocked like she was trying to catch every note and hold it in her hands.

  For the second time since I’d met her, Fi Yan had no words.

  None at all.

  Just wide, wonderstruck eyes and a tiny smile growing at the corners of her mouth, like the song was something sacred she didn’t want to break by speaking.

  I leaned back, closing my own eyes, letting the music fill the cracks the world had left in me.

  When the song ended, Fi Yan stared at me expectantly.

  Her mouth opened immediately, her eyes shining.

  “More,” she demanded. “I need more. Right now, Big Brother Fang! Pleeeeeease.”

  I let out a soft, helpless laugh.

  God, how could I say no to that?

  “Alright,” I said, thumbing through my playlist. “I’ve got one I know you’ll love. This one’s an absolute classic.”

  I scrolled, finding the next track.

  Bhad Bhabie—

  The horn outside blew.

  A long, low blast that echoed across the village, cutting the moment clean in two.

  I bolted upright, grabbing my sabre from where it leaned against the wall.

  The sound of it woke something in me. Training. Survival. That old, primal instinct that didn’t care how tired or hurt I was.

  “Get to the sect building,” I barked at Fi Yan. “Now.”

  I didn’t wait for a response.

  I was already out the door, boots slamming onto the packed earth.

  The square was chaos. Men and women rushing past, some armed with spears, others with old farming tools sharpened to deadly points. Lanterns flared, shadows dancing wildly across the walls.

  I pushed through them, my injured foot protesting with every step. But I shoved the pain down, locked it away in a small, hard place inside me.

  Ahead, near the front gate, I spotted him.

  The Elder Tian.

  Scar Face, as I’d come to think of him, stood at the centre of the crowd like a boulder in a river, unmoving as people surged around him. His heavy axe rested against one shoulder, and he barked orders sharp enough to slice through the noise.

  When I reached the front line, he caught sight of me and gave a grim nod.

  “Brace yourselves!” he shouted. His voice rolled across the square like a war drum. “Something’s coming!”

  I tightened my grip on my sabre, feeling the edge of the blade vibrate with my heartbeat.

  The world narrowed to a razor’s edge.

  I was ready.

  For once in my damn life, I was ready.

  I wouldn’t let anything happen to the people behind me.

  Not Wei Lin.

  Not Fi Yan.

  Not the sisters.

  Not Master Kai.

  Not anyone.

  Not while I still drew breath.

  We stood there.

  Waiting.

  The world seemed to hold its breath.

  And then—

  A shape emerged from the tree line.

  The tension in the air could have snapped a bowstring.

  I shifted my stance, weight balanced, muscles taut.

  The figure grew clearer.

  An ox.

  Pulling a battered old cart behind it.

  For a second, no one moved.

  Then Scar Face cursed loudly enough to be heard across the whole village.

  “False alarm!” he barked, throwing a hand up. “Stand down, all of you!”

  The crowd sagged visibly, relief and exhaustion crashing into the square like a wave.

  The cart creaked as it pulled into the village proper, the ox snorting and tossing its head lazily, completely unaware of the panic it had caused.

  A young man, jumped down from the cart bed with a surprising amount of energy.

  He was lean, dressed in plain traveler’s robes, dusty and road-stained, with a wide, lazy grin stretched across his disgustingly handsome face.

  He adjusted a satchel slung over one shoulder and spread his arms theatrically.

  “Well, well,” he said brightly. “Looks like I’ve walked straight into the lion’s den.”

  No one answered.

  The young man continued, completely unfazed.

  “Greetings, good folk of Fallen Mist! I suppose now’s as good a time as any to introduce myself.” He gave an exaggerated, flourishing bow, sweeping one arm low. “I’m your merchant from Lianzhou. Here at your service.”

  He straightened, his grin widening.

  And then, very deliberately, he looked up.

  His eyes locked directly onto mine.

  A flicker of something unreadable passed through his gaze. Sharp. Calculating. Just for a heartbeat.

  Then it was gone, replaced once more by that easy, disarming smile.

  I narrowed my eyes slightly, instinct prickling the back of my neck, making my stitches feel itchy.