Day One
It was a windy road, bumpy and uneven, where the cart swayed with each rut and stone. Autumn leaves fell gently through the air, drifting down in lazy spirals. The green forest surrounding them was painted with bright colors—gold and crimson and amber mixing with the fading green of summer. Birds chirped their melodies from hidden branches, and the atmosphere carried a calmness that seemed at odds with the nature of their journey.
The rhythmic creaking of the cart and the steady clip-clop of the donkey's hooves created a hypnotic backdrop to the silence that had settled over the four travelers.
"So you're the new member of our team, huh," Hu said finally, breaking the quiet. He didn't look at Zhung as he spoke—his gaze was directed toward Bai, who sat with eyes closed in a lotus position, apparently meditating despite the cart's constant movement. The masked driver remained focused on the road ahead, his attention seemingly absorbed by the simple task of guiding the donkey.
Zhung ignored Hu completely. His expressionless gaze looked straight ahead, his dark eyes tracking the movement of leaves and the play of light through the forest canopy, as if the bearded man's words hadn't even registered.
Hu's lips twisted into a sneer. The tension in the cart immediately grew heavy, thick with unspoken malice radiating from the older man. His expression shifted to one of clear irritation at being so blatantly dismissed.
Then his voice echoed again, this time carrying a sharp edge of annoyance: "Hey. What did you do for a living, huh? In your past, before working this job?"
Bai's left eye opened slowly, his golden gaze shifting to observe Zhung with analytical interest. The driver's right eye also glanced back, barely visible beneath the brim of his straw hat, watching to see how the youngest member of their group would respond to the increasingly hostile questioning.
Zhung remained sitting perfectly still, his expression unreadable, his eyes cold and distant as winter ice. The silence stretched for several long seconds while he considered whether to answer at all.
"Just a normal sixteen-year-old kid trying to survive..." He paused deliberately, letting the words hang in the air before continuing in a tone colder than before. "By killing."
His voice was flat and emotionless, delivering the statement as if discussing the weather rather than confessing to taking lives.
Hu and the driver couldn't help themselves—both burst into laughter that echoed through the forest around them. The sound was genuine but carried an edge of dark appreciation, the kind of laughter shared by people who'd all crossed certain lines and could recognize their own kind.
Bai remained quiet, though his left eye closed again as he returned to his meditation, a small smile barely visible at the corner of his mouth.
Hu leaned forward and suddenly slapped Zhung's back with enough force to make most people lurch forward. Zhung didn't move, absorbing the impact without reaction.
"You really are a man, huh!" Hu's laughter continued, genuinely amused now rather than mocking. "Good thing you have experience killing, or else..." He paused, his grin widening to show teeth. "We might have had to force you to kill someone. Break you in proper, so to speak."
His tone was sarcastic, but underneath lay a truth they all understood—people who hesitated on jobs like this didn't last long.
The driver was chuckling up front, his shoulders shaking with quiet mirth. Bai continued to ignore everything, his breathing slow and even as he maintained his meditative state. Hu, now satisfied that he'd gotten a reaction—even if indirectly—showed a genuine grin and settled back, apparently content.
---
As the sun descended and the sky turned brilliant shades of orange and pink, the cart finally came to a halt in a small clearing just off the main road. Night was approaching, and they needed to make camp.
Bai and Hu were assigned to set up the camp itself—clearing the ground, preparing the fire pit, arranging where the tents would go. Meanwhile, Zhung and the driver were tasked with hunting food for the evening meal.
The two of them moved into the forest together, separated from the others by enough distance that voices wouldn't carry. For several minutes, they walked in complete silence, neither making any attempt at conversation.
Then a small voice echoed in Zhung's ear—so quiet it was almost a whisper, a noise that most people would have immediately forgotten or dismissed. But Zhung's recent body tempering had enhanced his senses, sharpening his hearing beyond normal human limits.
"Had experience hunting?" the driver asked, his voice flat and neutral.
Zhung's expression remained unreadable. "Yes. And also some failures." His cold tone suggested those failures had been costly, though he didn't elaborate.
They continued moving through the underbrush, their footsteps careful and quiet, until both spotted their prey simultaneously.
A hornet boar stood in a small clearing ahead—a dangerous beast that combined the worst traits of wild pig and giant hornet. Tough scales covered its brown skin like natural armor. Its tusks dripped with venom that could paralyze or kill depending on the dose. Its eyes were bloodshot and wild, suggesting aggression and territorial instinct.
The two hunters froze, both going completely still without needing to communicate the strategy.
Zhung reached into his pack and pulled out one of the Albino Mountain Wolf bone shards he'd prepared—sharp as any blade, carefully shaped into a projectile. He also retrieved a blow dart tube, positioning the bone shard inside with practiced efficiency.
He raised the tube to his lips, taking aim at the boar's eye—the only vulnerable spot on a creature with such thick hide.
The driver's hand suddenly moved, gently pushing Zhung's arm down to wait. His masked face turned slightly, and Zhung followed his gaze.
A second hornet boar emerged from the opposite side of the clearing, moving to join the first. Two targets meant more meat but also more danger if the hunt went wrong.
The driver waited, watching the beasts' positions, calculating angles and timing. Both boars were now aligned—one slightly behind the other, but both with clear sight lines to the hunters.
"Now," the driver whispered.
Zhung blew hard into the dart tube, feeling his enhanced lung capacity provide more force than a normal person could manage. The bone shard flew straight and true, entering the first boar's eye with a wet *thunk*.
The driver had moved simultaneously, his own projectile—a small throwing knife Zhung hadn't even seen him draw—flying toward the second boar's eye with equal precision.
Both beasts dropped dead almost instantly, their brains pierced before they could make a sound or charge at their attackers.
The two hunters approached their kills carefully, verifying they were truly dead before attempting to move them. Then came the laborious work of dragging two large carcasses back to camp.
---
When they arrived, struggling under the weight of the dead boars, they found Bai and Hu still arguing.
The tents weren't set up. The fire pit was only half-dug. The two men were facing each other with clear frustration, gesturing animatedly about something neither would explain when asked.
The driver and Zhung exchanged a look—or at least, Zhung thought they did; the mask made it hard to tell—and simply set down their kills without comment.
A couple of hours passed before the camp was finally organized. The tents were erected properly. The fire was blazing cheerfully. The two hornet boars had been butchered efficiently and were now roasting over the flames, their meat beginning to drip fat that sizzled in the fire.
The four of them sat around the campfire, waiting for the meat to cook properly. The mood was quiet, almost boring, until Hu reached into his bundle and pulled out a wine bottle with a flourish.
"No point in suffering through a boring evening," he declared, already uncorking it.
The mood immediately improved. The driver accepted a cup. Bai took one as well, though he drank slowly and with obvious moderation. Hu filled his own cup generously and raised it toward Zhung.
"You drinking, kid?"
Zhung shook his head once, a simple refusal that needed no explanation.
Hu shrugged and took what would have been Zhung's portion for himself.
As the wine loosened tongues and lowered guards, Hu—now clearly drunk based on his slurred words and exaggerated gestures—began explaining his current situation with surprising candor.
"Got into gambling again," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm directed at himself. "Now I'm in debt. Again. You'd think I'd learn, but apparently I'm too stupid for that."
He took another long drink, then laughed bitterly at his own predicament.
"Well, you deserve it for being foolish," Bai said calmly, his voice carrying no judgment, just statement of fact.
Hu's expression immediately shifted to irritation. He pointed an accusing finger at Bai, swaying slightly. "Then how about you, huh? Donating all your money to that orphanage you grew up in? You throw away enough coin to solve my problems ten times over, and for what? Kids who'll never even remember you?"
Bai's golden eyes reflected the firelight, his expression unchanged. "They'll have better chances than I did. That's enough."
"Besides," Hu continued, his voice growing louder and more aggressive, "if I hadn't adopted you when you were starving on the street... you wouldn't even be the same person you are today. You'd be dead in some gutter, and we both know it."
The statement hung in the air, heavy with history and complicated emotions neither man seemed willing to fully address.
Zhung and the driver simply watched this exchange. The driver occasionally chuckled at particularly sharp comments from either side, clearly entertained by the familiar banter. But Zhung remained unmoved, his expression as blank as ever, observing without participating.
*So Hu adopted Bai,* Zhung noted mentally. *That explains the dynamic—not equals, but not quite parent and child either. Complicated. Potentially useful information.*
The argument continued for a while longer, circling through various grievances and old resentments, before eventually running out of steam. The wine bottle was nearly empty. The meat was finally cooked.
They ate in silence, tearing chunks from the roasted boar, chewing slowly, each lost in their own thoughts.
The fire blazed between them, its sparks rising into the night sky like tiny stars trying to rejoin their celestial brothers. The flames danced and shifted, creating moving shadows that made the forest beyond seem to pulse and breathe.
Around them, the night was calm—like snow settling over a landscape, peaceful and quiet. Everything coexisted in this moment: the fire's warmth, the forest's sounds, the four travelers bound together by contract and necessity if not trust or friendship.
But all four of them understood, even if no one said it aloud, that this calm was temporary.
Another day, another time, everything could be lost forever. Camps could be attacked. Jobs could go wrong. Allies could become enemies. Trust could shatter like glass.
For now, though, the fire burned steady, the meat was good, and they were alive.
That would have to be enough.
Zhung stared into the flames, his dark eyes reflecting the dancing light, his expression revealing nothing of his thoughts. He didn't drink with them. Didn't laugh at their jokes. Didn't share stories or build false camaraderie.
He simply existed in their space, apart but present, a piece on the board that didn't quite fit the expected pattern.
*Day one complete,* he thought without emotion. *Two more days until we reach Xia Lu Town. Two more days to understand these people and determine who might be useful and who might need to be eliminated if circumstances demand it.*
*The Broken Path doesn't care about friendship or loyalty. Only survival and progress.*
The fire crackled and popped, sending another shower of sparks into the darkness above.
And in that darkness, the future waited with patient inevitability.
---
**End of Chapter 18**