The morning air was crisp as Tianyu stood on the outskirts of Emberglade, his Fleetpaw Drakon pawing the ground beside him with quiet impatience. The sprawling city faded behind him, replaced by the sprawling forests and winding mountain paths ahead. His destination: **Silverleaf Grand City**, the heart of the region and the gateway to the **Thousand Peaks Sect trials**.
Before setting off, Tianyu encountered the merchant caravan—a lively gathering of wagons, guards, and traders preparing to leave Emberglade. The leader of the caravan, **Master Hu**, an affable but calculating merchant with sharp eyes, approached Tianyu with a proposition.
"You've got the look of someone who can handle himself," Master Hu said, his gaze flicking over Tianyu's fine yet practical attire and the gleam of his crystalline sword. "We could use an extra pair of hands on the road. Dangerous times and all. Food and shelter in exchange for protection."
Tianyu considered the offer carefully. The journey to Silverleaf was long, and while he didn't need the caravan for safety, traveling with them offered an opportunity to observe others, hone his skills, and gather information. "Fine," he replied, his tone even. "I'll travel with you. But I fight my own way."
Master Hu grinned, extending a hand. "That's all we ask."
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The morning air carried a crispness that hinted at the lingering chill of the mountains as the merchant caravan rumbled along the uneven dirt road. Tianyu rode alongside the wagons atop his Fleetpaw Drakon, his figure quiet yet commanding. His eyes scanned the forest on either side of the path, ever watchful, while the clatter of wheels and the casual banter of travelers filled the air.
Though there were Spirit Beasts skirmishes during the travel and bandits trying to rob them, Nothing matters at all with Tianyun as long as he reach his goal.
It had been 5 days since he'd joined the caravan, and though his presence was acknowledged, most avoided striking up conversations with him. Tianyu's quiet demeanor and noble bearing set him apart, making him appear unapproachable despite his age. But today, the atmosphere seemed lighter, and curiosity got the better of some.
Sitting atop one of the wagons, Old Bai, the storyteller and herbalist, puffed on his long pipe, his sharp eyes flicking between Tianyu and the horizon. The old man's voice broke the silence, his tone warm and filled with good-natured humor.
"You know, lad, you're quite the enigma," Bai began, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Young, quiet, keeps to himself but fights like he's lived a dozen lifetimes. Care to share your story?"
Tianyu glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "I'm just a traveler," he replied simply. "Nothing worth telling."
Bai chuckled. "A traveler, he says. With a sword like that and an aura like yours? Forgive me, but I'm not buying it."
Lan Mei, riding beside the wagon on a sleek black mare, smirked. "He's got a point. Most travelers don't leave shadow panthers dead in their wake or stare down bandits like it's a casual stroll." She shot Tianyu a teasing glance. "You're either incredibly talented or hiding something. Which is it?"
Tianyu let a faint smile tug at the corner of his lips. "Perhaps both."
From the rear of the caravan, Zhao Chen, the brash and overconfident guard, scoffed loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Hah! He's probably just lucky. I could've taken care of those panthers if I had the chance."
Lan Mei snorted. "You tripped over your own feet last time we had a skirmish, Zhao. Want me to remind you?"
The group burst into laughter, and even Tianyu's lips twitched in amusement. Zhao's face reddened, but he refused to back down. "At least I'm not acting like some mysterious hermit. What kind of cultivator keeps his techniques hidden when traveling with others?"
Tianyu turned his gaze to Zhao, his voice calm but firm. "The kind who knows when to act—and when to listen."
The jab wasn't sharp, but it carried a quiet weight that left Zhao fumbling for a reply. Old Bai patted Zhao's shoulder, laughing. "Easy now, lad. Not everyone needs to shout to be heard."
Later that evening, as the caravan made camp under the canopy of ancient trees, Tianyu found himself sitting by the fire alongside Lan Mei and Old Bai. The flames crackled softly, their light dancing across their faces as bowls of stew were passed around.
Lan Mei broke the comfortable silence, her tone curious. "You've got skill, I'll give you that. But you don't look like someone trained in a sect. Where'd you learn to fight like that?"
Tianyu stirred the stew in his bowl thoughtfully before answering. "Life has a way of teaching you. Sometimes through books, sometimes through battles. I've had my share of both."
Lan Mei raised an eyebrow. "Cryptic, aren't you? Still, I respect it. You hold yourself well."
Old Bai leaned forward, his pipe clutched in one hand. "I've seen many a young cultivator in my time, but none quite like you. If I had to guess, I'd say you've got the aura of someone… important. Am I wrong?"
Tianyu's gaze met Old Bai's, the faintest flicker of emotion crossing his face. He didn't answer directly. "Importance is fleeting. What matters is what you choose to do with it."
Lan Mei exchanged a glance with Bai but didn't press further. The air between them settled into a comfortable understanding—one built on respect rather than prying.
It was on the twelfth day of travel, as the caravan approached a narrow gorge, that the group encountered a blockade. More than a dozen rough-looking men stood in the middle of the path, their weapons drawn and their faces hardened by desperation.
The caravan came to a grinding halt as the narrow mountain path was blocked by a crude barricade of fallen logs and jagged rocks. The air grew tense as the guards moved into position, hands resting uneasily on their weapons. The travelers murmured nervously, their gazes darting toward the treeline where figures began to emerge.
Bandits.
The group, ragged but dangerous, fanned out across the path. Their leader—a tall, burly man with a jagged scar running down his face and eyes like burning coals—stepped forward. His presence exuded menace, his aura thrumming faintly with the unmistakable pressure of a cultivator.
"Hand over your goods," the man growled, his voice carrying like thunder. "The wagons, the coin, and whatever else you're hiding. Do it quickly, and we might let you keep your lives."
The caravan guards exchanged wary glances. Lan Mei's grip tightened on the hilts of her twin blades, her jaw set in determination. "They're more organized than the usual rabble," she muttered. "And their leader… something feels off."
Tianyu, seated on his Fleetpaw Drakon, observed the scene with narrowed eyes. His gaze flickered to the wagons behind the bandits, noting the faint movements and muffled cries coming from within. The realization settled in his mind like a stone.
"They're trafficking people," he said quietly.
Lan Mei turned to him sharply. "Are you sure?"
Tianyu nodded, his voice cold with anger. "I can hear them. Women and children." He dismounted, drawing his crystalline sword with a deliberate motion. "We're not negotiating."
The bandits laughed as the caravan guards raised their weapons, mistaking the team's readiness for fear. But the first laugh died as Tianyu surged forward, his blade catching the sunlight as it arced toward the nearest bandit. The strike was clean, decisive—a single motion that sent the man sprawling.
"Defend the caravan!" Tianyu commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whip.
The bandits charged, weapons raised, their ragged appearance belying their ferocity. Lan Mei darted into the fray, her twin blades moving like streaks of silver light as she engaged two bandits at once. "You're not taking another step!" she snarled, her strikes precise and unrelenting.
Zhao Chen, though brash and inexperienced, held his ground, clumsily blocking a blow with his shield before counterattacking with a loud, nervous shout. "I've got this! Stay back!"
Tianyu moved like a shadow through the chaos, each strike of his blade executed with deadly precision. The **Scarlet Immolation Tempering Art** flared within him, his body radiating heat as his strength grew with each movement. Bandits fell one by one, their aggression faltering as the caravan guards pushed back with a ferocity they hadn't expected.
Amidst the clamor of steel and shouts, the bandit leader stepped forward. His aura surged, the pressure of his cultivation washing over the battlefield like a tidal wave. The faint golden light of a **Nascent Soul Low Stage** cultivator surrounded him, sending a ripple of fear through the guards.
"This ends now," he growled, raising his massive, Qi-infused axe. With a single swing, he unleashed a shockwave that tore through the ground, scattering the caravan defenders like leaves in a storm.
Lan Mei was thrown back, her blades skittering across the ground as she gasped for breath. Zhao Chen froze, his shield trembling in his hands. "He's—he's too strong!"
Tianyu stood firm, his crystalline sword glowing faintly as he faced the bandit leader head-on. The man's aura was oppressive, his power evident, but Tianyu's expression remained calm. "A Nascent Soul cultivator stooping to trafficking women and children," he said, his voice laced with disdain. "Pathetic."
The bandit leader sneered. "You're just a brat with a shiny sword. Let's see how long you last."