The afternoon wind rising from the depths of the ravine cut to the bone, shaking Feng's already precarious balance at the very edge. Eva still gripped the collar of his shirt tightly, her fingers pale from the pressure. Her face, usually bright, was now filled with tension and a terrifying sense of desperation.
"Eva, calm down!" Feng shouted, struggling to keep himself from toppling any farther. The ground at the cliff's edge was fragile; small pebbles had already broken loose and vanished into the darkness below.
"I am calm, Feng. Too calm," Eva replied. Her voice was flat and cold as stone, just like the wind whispering between them. Her eyes—once sharp and full of spirit—were now empty. "You know my mother is gravely ill. She's been bedridden for weeks, her breathing like a saw being pulled back and forth. The healer said there's only one medicine, and it's incredibly expensive." Her gaze shifted to the four-leaf plant scattered on the ground near the basket. "With that plant, her life can be saved. This is my only chance."
Feng tried to move, searching for firmer footing. Feeling his resistance, Eva immediately pressed down harder, using her weight to force him farther back. Feng's breathing grew heavier.
With great effort, Feng moved his still-free right hand. Driven by pure survival instinct, his hand shot out and clamped around Eva's neck. The difference in physical strength between them—a man and a woman accustomed to hard labor—became apparent at once. Using the momentum, Feng reversed their positions. With a heavy grunt, he slammed Eva to the ground and ended up on top of her.
His fist clenched tightly, emotions surging—anger, pain, confusion.
"Ugh!" Eva groaned as the first blow landed on her shoulder, not her face. Feng held himself back.
"I understand, Eva! I really do understand how desperate you are!" Feng shouted hoarsely. "But it doesn't have to be like this! It doesn't have to end with us killing each other!"
"Not killing each other?" Eva snorted, then let out a short, bitter laugh. Her voice cracked. "You've never felt it, Feng. Never sat there keeping watch, seeing the person who gave birth to you, the person who loves you, slowly being dragged toward death—while you can do nothing but watch!" Tears welled in her eyes, but none fell. Then her gaze sharpened again, piercing. "Oh, right. I forgot. You're an orphan. You don't have a mother to save, do you?" she mocked, her words wrapped in heart-piercing sarcasm.
Those words hit like a brutal slap.
A pure, burning fury surged from Feng's chest through his entire body. That was the line. Insulting his circumstances, insulting the memory of his grandfather, insulting the loneliness he had carried for so long—this was something he could not tolerate. His fist trembled, aching to strike.
Yet in the midst of that raging anger, an image surfaced: the face of his old grandfather, who had always taught him patience—and perhaps, too, the lingering feelings for someone he had once called a friend. Feng looked down at Eva beneath him, her face smeared with dirt and hatred, yet also filled with pain. He saw not only a traitor, but also a desperate child.
Breathing heavily, slowly forcing himself to calm down, Feng released his grip on Eva's neck. His fist unclenched. Gradually, he rose from her body. Staggering slightly, he walked over to the precious plant, picked it up, and placed it into his fallen basket. Without looking back, he began to walk away, leaving Eva gasping on the ground.
"This time, I forgive you," Feng murmured, his voice so soft it was almost carried away by the wind. There was no anger left in his tone—only a deep sadness, as if something beautiful had shattered beyond repair. "But we're done."
The afternoon wind grew stronger, lifting Feng's long, tangled black hair. His dark eyes were now filled with complex shadows—disappointment, sorrow, and a bitter maturity. He walked on, leaving behind Eva, still lying on the ground, her body shaking as sobs finally broke free—a mix of shame, pain, and despair.
On the way to the gathering point, the silence around Feng felt heavier than the basket on his back. It was then that the voice sounded again in his mind, emerging from the bracelet on his wrist.
"Do you still want to become a Practitioner?" the woman asked. The question was simple, yet it rang like a gong through the hollow space of Feng's emotions.
Feng did not answer right away. He kept walking, eyes fixed on the familiar dirt path ahead. The question lingered in his thoughts, tangled with the image of Eva's cold stare and the threat of the abyss moments before.
Seeing Feng's silence, the Practitioner continued, her voice no longer as cold, carrying instead a tone of instruction. "If you truly intend to walk this path, you should know that what just happened is commonplace. In fact, it could even be considered a rather mild first lesson."
Feng remained silent, but inwardly, he listened closely.
"The human heart is the deepest and darkest sea," the voice said calmly, philosophically. "Someone may appear like a benevolent angel on the surface, yet harbor the intentions of a devil within. A close friend can become the sharpest blade at the very moment you let your guard down. To survive—let alone to grow strong—you must learn to read the intent behind smiles, be wary of sudden kindness, and always, always be cautious. Trust is a luxury often paid for with one's life."
Those words sank into Feng's quiet heart. The woman within the bracelet did not demand an answer or affirmation. In the world of Practitioners, offering advice like this was already a rare act of mercy. Normally, a mortal's impertinence alone would be reason enough for punishment.
At last, Feng arrived at the gathering place. The low chatter of workers who had already returned greeted him. Jun, clearly impatient, strode over at once.
"Why are you so late? We almost left without you!" Jun snapped, his face dark.
Feng did not defend himself. Slowly, he lowered the basket from his back. From inside, he carefully took out the four-leaf plant—yellow and red—and handed it to Jun.
Jun's expression changed instantly. His anger vanished, replaced by open astonishment and greed. His eyes lit up.
"This… you actually got it!" he exclaimed, quickly snatching the plant and inspecting it under the afternoon light. "Well done! Truly well done!"
He gestured to one of his guards, who produced a small pouch. Jun took it, counted out several silver coins, then handed them to Feng.
"Here—forty coins. Remember, ten coins are deducted for taxes and protection fees while in the forest."
Feng accepted the coins without protest. He already knew Jun's unwritten rules. Arguing would only bring trouble. Even so, forty coins were still immensely valuable to him. His grip on them tightened, as if they were seeds of his future.
As Feng rejoined the group of workers, a few people approached to congratulate him.
"Impressive, Feng!"
"Lucky young man!"
The praise sounded formal and flat, driven more by curiosity—and perhaps a hint of envy—than genuine admiration.
Suddenly, the crowd parted slightly. Eva emerged from the direction of the forest, her face pale, hair disheveled, dirt stains and faint bruises visible on her arm. Their eyes met. There was no warmth or teasing left—only two cold gazes sharing a dark secret of cliffs and betrayal. An invisible wall had risen between them.
Jun noticed Eva's late arrival and immediately unleashed a barrage of curses far harsher and more humiliating than what Feng had received. Eva simply lowered her head, accepting it all in silence, her hands tightly gripping her half-empty basket.
The journey back to Ken City continued under a different kind of quiet. Exhaustion from a full day of searching, combined with the tense events some had endured, left most of the workers choosing silence.
Amid the light drizzle of afternoon rain beginning to fall, washing dust from the dirt road, Feng walked along the edge of the group. His gaze rested on the pale bracelet around his right wrist. After a long while, he finally spoke, whispering so softly that only the voice could hear.
"Senior," he called. The nervousness from their first meeting was gone, replaced by a new, sorrow-tinged resolve. "Are you willing to teach me? Teach me how to become a Practitioner?"
From within the bracelet came a brief silence, as if the woman were considering.
"Hm?" she murmured meaningfully. After a pause that felt long, her voice returned to Feng's mind—this time clearer, carrying both a promise and a warning.
"Of course I can. But remember, this is not an easy path. We'll see… whether you possess the resolve and talent required to endure it."
With that promise hanging in the damp afternoon air, they continued onward. The dense forest behind them gradually disappeared into mist, while the lights of Ken City began to flicker in the distance, welcoming the workers home with their dreams.
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