His eyes fluttered open to the soft, dancing light of a fire. He was in a cave. The air smelled of damp earth, woodsmoke, and something sharp and medicinal.

  A rough, fur-lined blanket was draped over him, and a thick, poultice-soaked bandage was wrapped tightly around his head. He tried to sit up, but his body felt impossibly heavy, his limbs filled with lead, a profound numbness still clinging to him like a shroud.

  He slowly took in his surroundings, his blurry vision finally focusing on his saviors.

  A man sat by the fire, sharpening a skinning knife on a whetstone. He was broad-shouldered and rugged, his face etched with the lines of a hard life, though he looked to be in his mid-thirties. He was no cultivator; the steady, solid presence of a mortal was unmistakable.

  Beside him, a young girl, no older than ten, sat watching the flames with a solemn intensity. She held a small, wickedly sharp hand axe, not as a toy, but with the quiet, familiar competence of a seasoned woodsman.

  "T-This Disciple…"

  Bi Kan’s voice was a weak croak, but the ingrained formality of his sect training took over.

  The man’s head snapped up, his eyes widening in surprise.

  "H-hey! Don't push yourself, son!"

  he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble as he set his knife aside and moved to Bi Kan’s side. But Bi Kan insisted, pushing himself up onto one elbow, the effort sending a wave of dizziness through him.

  He had to show proper respect. He had to acknowledge the debt.

  "This Disciple thanks his saviors! I am forever in your debt!"

  he declared, each word a monumental effort.

  The man was visibly flustered, a faint blush rising on his weathered cheeks. He seemed completely unused to such reverence.

  "No need for all that, son. Just glad we found you when we did. The name's Dai. And this quiet one here is my daughter, Lin."

  The little girl, Lin, merely gave Bi Kan a short, assessing nod before turning her attention back to the axe in her lap.

  "We were tracking a shadow-cat,"

  Dai explained, gesturing vaguely towards the cave entrance.

  "Led us deeper into this grove than I like. Stumbled upon you right after you took your tumble. That was a nasty viper's kiss you took. Lucky for you, the folk of my village know a thing or two about what grows in these woods. A poultice of Crushed Moon-Glow Moss and boiled Iron-Root Bark will draw the worst of the poison, but it'll leave you feeling heavy as a stone for a day or two."

  A mortal folk remedy had saved him where his own cultivation had failed. The thought was both humbling and astonishing. He owed these people his life.

  "You are from a village nearby?" Bi Kan asked, his curiosity piqued.

  Dai let out a short, humorless laugh.

  "Not so nearby. We're hunters from Ironhorn Croke."

  He said the name with a sort of weary, resigned pride. "It's a hard place, but it's home." The name was indeed terrible, Bi Kan thought, but the people it produced were clearly made of tougher stuff than most. He had been saved not by a powerful cultivator or a rare pill, but by the simple, practical knowledge of a man and his ten-year-old, axe-wielding daughter. His world, and his place in it, suddenly felt very small.

  For two days, the small, fire-lit cave became a sanctuary. Dai, with his quiet competence, would hunt and forage, while Lin would sit by Bi Kan’s side, methodically sharpening her small axe on a smooth river stone, her silence more comforting than any words.

  The heavy lethargy of the venom slowly receded, replaced by the familiar, steady flow of Qi as Bi Kan’s own formidable constitution reasserted control.

  On the third morning, he could finally stand, his legs shaky but his will firm.

  "Please, Sir Dai,"

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  Bi Kan insisted, bowing as deeply as his stiff muscles would allow.

  "You have saved my life. The debt is immeasurable. At the very least, let this disciple escort you and your daughter back to your village!"

  Dai waved a dismissive hand, though his eyes held a flicker of warmth.

  "It's our trouble, not yours, son. We know these woods. You just focus on getting your strength back."

  But Bi Kan was adamant, and his cultivator's sense of honor was a force Dai’s simple pragmatism could not deter.

  The journey began. Lin, who had been a silent observer for days, finally let her curiosity bubble over. She trotted alongside Bi Kan, her head tilted as she scrutinized his lean frame. "Big brother," she said, her voice clear and honest, "you move like a cultivator, but… you're so skinny! Are you sure you're strong?"

  Bi Kan’s jaw nearly hit the forest floor. He, a cultivator who had just reached the 5th Stage, was being called out by a ten-year-old girl.

  A hot flush of embarrassment was quickly followed by a cold douse of self-reflection. She was right. He had poured all his energy into sensing Qi, into refining his spirit, but had utterly neglected the vessel that housed it.

  The Body Tempering Realm seemed a thousand miles away.

  "Lin! That is rude! Apologize to the Disciple right now!"

  Dai scolded, his voice sharp.

  Bi Kan shook his head, a wry, self-deprecating smile on his face.

  "No, Sir Dai, it's alright. The little sister speaks the truth."

  He looked down at Lin, his expression turning sincere.

  "I must put some weight on, or I'll be a walking skeleton. As for your question, Little Lin, my strength is not yet in my body, but in my spirit. I am a cultivator."

  He gently patted her head, the gesture feeling surprisingly natural.

  "If you wish to become strong like this big brother someday, you just tell me, and I will find a way to take you to my sect."

  Her eyes widened, shining with a new, wondrous light.

  "Okay!"

  As they crested the final hill, the village of Ironhorn Croke came into view. It was a collection of hardy, smoke-stained huts nestled in a rugged valley, a testament to the stubborn resilience of its people. The air smelled of woodsmoke, tilled earth, and a quiet desperation.

  That desperation had a face. A corpulent man in ill-fitting robes was standing in the center of the small village square, backhanding a villager who had apparently displeased him. Bi Kan’s face hardened into a mask of cold fury.

  "That's our leader, Master Huo," Dai explained in a low, weary voice.

  "He… he has visions. Tells us signs from the heavens. He once ignited a flame out of thin air!"

  Bi Kan’s skepticism was a physical thing, a sour taste in his mouth. Uneducated, isolated mortals were so easily manipulated by the most rudimentary of parlor tricks. He swept his spiritual sense over the man. Qi Sensing Realm, Stage 3. A bottom-feeder, a charlatan whose cultivation was so pathetic he likely couldn't even win a duel against Gar Yu.

  The fire had to have been a talisman.

  Dai, ever the hopeful one, hurried forward.

  "Oh, Great Master Huo! We have returned! And we have found a boy in the woods! He seems to be quite strong! He says he is some kind of… disciple!"

  Master Huo turned, his piggy eyes narrowing with suspicion and contempt. "Disciple? Impossible," he sneered, his voice oily. "There is no power but that which the heavens grant me. That boy lies."

  He ignored Bi Kan, turning back to the downtrodden villagers with a grand, magnanimous gesture.

  "But rejoice! For I have received another sign! A great vision! It tells me that a bountiful harvest will yield from our fields this season!"

  A wave of hope and disbelief rippled through the small crowd. Their faces, etched with hardship, momentarily lit up. "But!" Master Huo boomed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial, lecherous tone.

  "Such a great blessing requires an offering. A pure offering. I must… be with a maiden tonight to channel the heavens' favor!"

  The light in the villagers’ eyes died. An elderly man, his back bent with age, shuffled forward.

  "B-but Great Master… there are no women here. Our wives have passed, and our daughters have long since left for the cities. There are only twelve of us, and all are men!"

  "Of course there is!" Master Huo’s greasy smile widened as his gaze swept the crowd and landed, with a sickening finality, on the small girl hiding behind her father's legs.

  He pointed a fat, trembling finger. "Her."

  A vein throbbed in Bi Kan’s temple. He gripped his fists so hard his knuckles turned white, the memory of the bullies harassing Mei flashing in his mind, fueling a cold, murderous rage.

  "N-no!" Dai stammered, instinctively pushing Lin further behind him. "You mustn't! She is far too young! She is just a child!"

  "Shut up, you useless hunter, or I'll break your legs!" Huo snarled, shoving Dai aside with surprising force.

  The elderly man, his face a mask of horrified resolve, had seen enough. With a weak cry, he drew a rusty skinning knife and lunged at the false prophet. Huo, for all his bluster, was a coward. "H-hey! That's dangerous!" he yelped, clumsily evading the feeble attack.

  He slapped the knife from the old man's hand and delivered a vicious kick to his chest, sending him sprawling into the dust.

  "You dare face me?!" Huo roared, his confidence returning as he towered over the fallen elder. "Have you forgotten that the gods themselves personally gave me power?!" He fumbled in his robes, produced a familiar paper talisman, and threw it to the ground.

  With a flash and a puff of smoke, a small, sad-looking flame sputtered to life. "See?! Do you see?! This is the power you defy!"

  A single, throbbing vein appeared on Bi Kan’s temple. The sight of that pathetic, sputtering flame, a cheap trick used to cow and terrorize these desperate people, was the final insult.