Deep within the forest that had become so familiar to him, Feng was busy harvesting herbal plants, just as he did on most days. Yet, there was a subtle change about him. His face, which once often showed only calmness or quiet sadness, now appeared colder and more focused. The remnants of youthful naivety—of a boy who believed in the goodness of everyone—had faded, replaced by vigilance sharpened through Eva's betrayal and three months of brutal training.
On his right wrist rested the pale-colored bracelet—or rather, Lean, his master—quiet and unassuming. Thanks to the uncompromising guidance of the mysterious Practitioner, Feng had undergone significant growth. Not only was his body sturdier, but his perspective on the world had also changed.
The sun stood directly overhead, signaling the scorching heat of midday. The warmth pierced through the leafy canopy, but Feng was used to it by now. "Time to take a short break," he muttered, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his worn clothes.
He found a shaded flat rock beneath a large tree and sat down cross-legged, assuming a meditation posture. Over the past three months, Lean had not only trained his body, but also taught him basic breathing techniques to calm the mind and relax the body—an essential foundation before sensing Essence. Feng closed his eyes, regulating his breath until it became deep and steady, trying to draw his entire focus inward.
With his heart emptied of distractions as best he could manage, he once again attempted to sense the presence of Essence around him. For three months he had trained, and for three months he had been met with failure. Today was no different. After concentrating for a long time, no special sensation appeared. There was only the wind, the sounds of the forest, and the dull pulse of fatigue within his own body.
"Hah… failed again today," he sighed inwardly, a trace of frustration lingering despite his effort to accept that this process required time.
Meanwhile, at the edge of the forest, a horse-drawn carriage—luxurious by Ken City's standards—was parked quietly. Inside sat a well-dressed young man: Jun, the son of Feng's employer and the overseer of the herb gatherers. Across from him sat a sharp-eyed, hard-faced man. He was no ordinary guard; the aura he emitted was heavy and dangerous.
"Do we do it now?" the man asked in a hoarse voice.
"Soon. Wait until he's truly alone deeper inside," Jun replied softly, an unpleasant smile forming on his lips. In his heart, a sinister whisper echoed. Forgive me, Feng. But your recent luck is far too suspicious. I need to know your secret.
Unaware of the danger closing in, Feng resumed his work. As his eyes swept over the area, Lean's voice suddenly sounded in his mind. "To the northeast, about a hundred steps from here, there's a cluster of mature Silvervein Moss."
"Thank you, Master," Feng replied silently, then headed in the indicated direction. From time to time, Lean informed him of the locations of rare plants. The reason was simple: to relieve boredom and, quietly, to help Feng earn more money for his basic needs. To Lean, these mortal coins meant nothing.
After pushing through dense bushes, Feng arrived at a small pool of clear water surrounded by slick stones. At the center of the pool, atop a protruding rock, Silvervein Moss grew in abundance, shimmering with a silvery glow under the sunlight filtering through the leaves.
Feng removed his simple leather shoes and was about to step into the shallow pool. His hand stretched out to pluck the plant.
"Stop!!"
The loud, familiar voice froze him in place. He turned toward the source, his heart pounding.
Jun stood there, followed by two armed guards with imposing expressions. What made Feng's scalp prickle, however, was the fourth man standing slightly behind them. He was broad-shouldered, his face cold as stone, his eyes looking at Feng as though he were an insect. A terrifying, almost imperceptible pressure radiated from him, making the surrounding air feel heavy.
"So they finally show themselves," Lean's voice echoed in Feng's mind, sounding both annoyed and amused.
"What do you mean, Master?!" Feng asked in panic.
"It means someone's been clumsily following you for a while now. I was getting bored waiting for them to come out of hiding," Lean replied casually, as if this were merely an interesting spectacle.
Feng forced himself to calm down. He stood upright, facing Jun and his group. "What is it, Jun? What are you doing here?" he asked, doing his best to conceal the unease gnawing at his chest.
"What secret are you hiding, Feng?" Jun shot back without preamble, cutting straight to the point. His voice was flat, filled with confidence.
"What do you mean?" Feng played dumb, his survival instincts urging him to do so.
"Don't pretend," Jun snapped, a faint, mocking smile still on his lips. "Ever since you found that four-leaf plant three months ago, you've been ridiculously lucky. You often come back with rare herbs that should be extremely hard to find." His gaze then locked onto Feng's right wrist. "And ever since then, that bracelet appeared. It looks simple, but… it feels different. Very valuable."
"I really don't know what you're talking about," Feng denied, keeping his tone even.
"Come on, Feng," Jun stepped closer, his two guards following warily. "Oh right, I'm curious. What are you using all that money for? After selling that first rare herb, you earned forty coins. Add the others you've found over these three months, and it must be around a hundred and fifty coins by now, right? There's no way that much money is just for food and grain. What are you saving it for?"
Under the pressure of their stares and piercing questions, Feng decided to offer a partial truth. "I want to become a Practitioner," he said coldly, even as his palms grew clammy behind his back. This was his first time facing such a direct, threatening confrontation.
His answer was met with a brief silence—before it shattered into loud, mocking laughter from Jun and the two guards. Their voices echoed around the pool, disturbing the forest's tranquility.
"You?! Hahahaha!" Jun clutched his stomach, laughing until it hurt. "A poor nobody like you wants to become a Practitioner?" His ridicule lashed out like a whip. "Aren't your dreams a little too high? Even someone like me, born into wealth with connections, wouldn't buy those so-called Practitioner manuals sold in the market! They're all scams, Feng! Complete nonsense meant to squeeze money out of fools and the desperate! And you can't even see through such obvious deception, yet you still dare to dream big!"
Feng remained silent, offering no rebuttal. Inwardly, he even felt a hint of relief. In truth, I didn't end up buying those books. Now I have a real master. Good thing I didn't waste my money on a scam.
In fact, Feng was already wealthy enough to survive for at least five years, but as Lean had advised him to always keep a backup plan, he continued to work and save. At the same time, he clearly saw how shallow and narrow-minded Jun's thinking was. The man could not see beyond material wealth and his own status.
"Enough of this pathetic joke," Jun suddenly said, his expression turning serious and cruel. He raised his hand, signaling the two guards beside him. "Take the bracelet. And 'persuade' him to be honest."
The two guards lunged at Feng with swords drawn. Their movements were fast and disciplined, nothing like ordinary bandits or laborers.
The first attack was a vertical slash from the guard on the left, aimed at Feng's shoulder. The instincts he had honed over three months kicked in. Feng was no longer the same person. He leapt sideways nimbly, the blade narrowly missing him. Before he could fully regain his balance, a horizontal slash from the second guard came sweeping in from the right. Feng ducked swiftly, the sword passing just above his head. Using the momentum, he twisted his body and drove his right fist—now filled with gathered strength—straight into the second guard's solar plexus.
"Ugh!" The guard staggered back, his face flushed as his breath was knocked out of him.
Good thing I learned a few moves from Master, Feng thought quickly, confidence beginning to rise.
Seeing his companion struck, the first guard became more aggressive. His next slashes were faster and fiercer. Feng was just a fraction too slow to evade. The sharp blade sliced through his left sleeve, cutting his skin and leaving a red line that immediately began to bleed. A sharp pain flared, but instead of panicking, it sharpened his focus.
He stayed calm. Just as Lean had taught him: Use your opponent's movement. Before the sword could be fully withdrawn, Feng seized the hilt with his right hand. His body spun, and using the rotational force and his free left arm, he struck the guard's jaw hard with an open palm.
Thwack!
The loud sound echoed. The guard stumbled, his vision spinning, before collapsing unconscious beside his companion, who was still groaning and clutching his stomach.
In the blink of an eye, two trained guards lay on the ground.
Jun was stunned. The arrogance that had filled his face moments ago was replaced by shock—and, for the first time, a trace of fear. He had never imagined that Feng, the poor and quiet laborer, possessed such ability.
Feng stood upright, his breathing slightly ragged, the wound on his arm throbbing. Within him, a new realization ignited. So… I'm already this strong. This was his first real fight, a life-or-death gamble he had won with his own strength. His gaze sharpened as it shifted toward Jun—and then to the mysterious man behind him, who had remained silent the entire time, observing as if he had just discovered something interesting.
The real battle was only just beginning.